A couple of weeks ago, I gave a ride to a Time Traveler.
Now, you scoff. “There’s no such thing as a time traveler, JohnT. This is the SDMB and you should know better than to pass off that crap as real.” And you are quite right – by the typical “science fiction definition” of the term, I did not meet a time traveler. Sorry – no stock tips. Don’t know when Trump will leave office. Have no idea when any of us are going to die.
But I still gave a ride to a Time Traveler.
Got a call from Mary, (names changed, of course) in downtown San Antonio on the riverwalk, requesting a drive to somewhere near US 90 and 1604, about 10-15 minutes west of the city. On my way, Mary calls and let’s me know I’m picking up her brother, Lance. So I get there and a man… Lance… gets in the car and, I gotta tell you, for a time traveler, Lance looked a little rough. Not drunk, just… let’s just say that Lance has lived the sort of life which wore heavily on his face, you know what I mean?
So I get to driving, head east on Commerce street in downtown SA, going to connect to 35 south, then US 90 West. And Lance, like a lot of men who have had maybe 1 – 3 too many, is in a mood to talk. So we do so, the usual stuff – what’s it like driving for Uber, his lack of success at the women in this bar, etc. Then, approaching his exit ramp, Lance begins the part of the conversation which leads to my realization that Lance… as rough as he looked… was a man who traveled through time, thrown from the past into a future both unknown and uncertain to him.
“This is my first time using Uber.” (Not unusual.)
“Really?”
“Yeah. This is my sisters… account. I didn’t even know this existed until an hour ago.” (That’s… unusual.)
“Oh, that’s cool. That happens all the time – people calling rides for other people.”
“Yeah, true. The guy at the bar was irritated for me using his phone, though.”
“Sorry to hear that. Your phone broken?”
“No, I don’t have one. I just got out of prison two weeks ago and the last cell phone I had was in 2002, when I was imprisoned.” (This, too, is not typical conversational patter.)
“Oh, yeah, they’re a little different from then, that’s for sure. I’m not too sure I even had a phone back in 2002 – probably.”
We ride on a few more seconds… he’s probably waiting to see how I respond to his revelation. And I did respond… Straight Dope style!
“Mind if I ask you a question?”
Here it comes… he’s probably thinking. “Sure.”
“So… you said you went into prison in 2002, and just got out last week. Same sentence?”
“Yup.”
In my typically nerdy way, I’m rather excited about this! Wow! Here’s a guy who… well, let me continue:
“In some regards, it’s like you time traveled, right? You went in during 2002, and come out in 2019… it’s still America, but things have changed, right?”
Chuckles… “Oh, yeah.”
… and we’re pulling in to his street, but I’m not going fast and we still have 1.5 miles to go. Time for a question or two.
“So… what’s the biggest difference? What change in the world have you noticed most?”
And it’s here that my Time Traveler – for a man who enters a parcel of land, never to leave for 17 years, in my mind, can be considered as such – began to sound frustrated as we pulled up in front of his destination.
“You people don’t talk to each other!”
“Really! How do you mean?”
“All you do is look at your little TV sets, and when you’re not looking at those, you’re looking at your big TV sets! I go see my friends, and it’s difficult to get a conversation going, you know? They get interrupted, they try to talk to you and their phone at the same time, and they end up talking to their phone, mostly. Even now, I’m going here to say goodbye to my niece, and I know that for the most of the time we’ll have together, she’ll spend looking at her TV. Her phone, dammit, I gotta stop saying ‘TV’.”
“Wow. It’s that different?”
“Yes. And there’s TV’s everywhere! On the bus, in restaurants, embedded in cars, on your phones. I was told about this, too, but didn’t really believe it. But, goddamn, there are a lot of TV’s around.”
“Fascinating.” Turning around to offer my hand, “Lance, I appreciate you answering my questions and I believe we are here.”
Shaking it, “Yes this is my sister’s place, and no, don’t worry about it. You at least didn’t ask the ones everyone asks, about what it’s like in prison. Appreciate it.”
Lance exited the car, I collected my $18.43, and we made our ways, likely never to meet again. And I learned that, according to my time traveler from the year of 2002, the year after my daughter was born, that we live in a world with too many TV’s and not enough conversation.