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THE WAVE OF THE FUTURE
HAS WORK TO DO |
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It was my brother-in-law calling last week. He had just
exited a Waymo, the driverless taxis that are now available to anyone in
San Francisco.
"You've got to try it," he exclaimed. "You
could write a column about it."
Sold. I had seen these bizarre white cars eerily roaming
around San Francisco for a couple of years. And now it was time to see if
they really are the wave of the future.
I asked him to come with me, since he already had the app and
would hopefully pay for the ride, since it was his idea. He came to my
office near Fisherman's Wharf on Monday and we walked onto the street,
ready to hail a ride.
The problem was we had nowhere to go. We ultimately decided
to go all the way to the new Ikea store on Market Street, which I hadn't
seen. It seemed logical. Both Waymo and the new Ikea store were potential
financial disasters.
We'd also get to see the Waymo navigate the worst of San
Francisco downtown traffic, which should be fun. As a native San
Franciscan with an intricate knowledge of our streets, Waymo had little
chance of besting me.
"HE'S GOING THE WRONG WAY!!" I shouted, immediately
assuming, for unknown reasons, the driverless car was a male. "WHAT
AN IDIOT!!"
Nobody drives through Chinatown to get downtown. It's a mess.
But I couldn't say anything, even though I did. I just fumed as we got
stuck in horrendous traffic.
"This probably isn't a good idea for control freaks like
you," my brother-in-law said as I noted the Waymo driverless driver
should move into the right lane if he wanted to be remotely successful.
And then it got worse. After a few more wrong turns and
anguished cries from one of its riders, the Waymo apparently realized it
couldn't drop us off at the Ikea on Market because cars weren't allowed.
So it came up 6th street from the south (don't ask me why) and then looked
for a dropoff spot.
For those unfamiliar with San Francisco, 6th Street is not on
a lot of postcards. While I'm a huge fan of my native city and its
beautiful neighborhoods, 6th Street doesn't do much for San Francisco's
reputation.
The Waymo didn't care. But just as I was shuddering at the
thought of exiting among the mentally ill and drug addicts, it turned
right down an alley. If 6th Street was the Night of the Living Dead, this
alley was Armageddon.
"NOOOOOO!!" I screamed at the empty driver seat.
"YOU CAN'T DROP US HERE! WE'LL BE ROBBED AND STABBED WITHIN
SECONDS!!"
I was exaggerating a bit, but the empty driver's seat
couldn't care less. No taxi driver or Uber driver would ever think of
dropping us there. It was a mass of tents and a crush of very unfortunate
people, all staring at us as we sheepishly exited.
"I don't think Waymo is ready for me," I whispered
to my brother-in-law as we tried to become invisible. "I need to be
heard."
He was still a fan, though, especially after we weren't
robbed or stabbed. We checked out Ikea on Market Street, which was
gorgeous and empty, and then he went on his app and ordered another Waymo
for a trip back to my office.
We found a reasonably clean street corner to wait the nine
minutes the app said it would arrive. Meanwhile, I wistfully watched four
empty taxis glide by. But I was on a mission. I was giving Waymo another
chance.
When it arrived 15 minutes later (they all lie, including
Uber and Lyft), we piled into the back seat for a presumably less eventful
ride home.
"IT'S GOING IN CIRCLES!!" I cried when the stupid
driverless car made four consecutive right turns after sensing an
emergency vehicle light somewhere in the distance. "IT'S MAKING ME
MISS UBER, LET ALONE TAXIS!"
After at least three more bonehead moves that prolonged the
trip, the Waymo finally got us back to my office near the Wharf. My only
satisfaction was that I didn't have to feel guilty about not leaving a
tip.
Next time I want a futuristic ride, I'll just go to
Disneyland. |
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