Calling out Uber for being sh*tty is, of course, nothing new. Their explosive international growth has come with a glut of bad press. There have been the alleged sexual assaults and kidnappings, the blatant robbery attempts, and the price surging scandals. To imagine my relatively insignificant personal suspension would be anything more than a blip on their radar is ludicrous. However, it was. It was enough to outright ban me, ignore my pleas for clarification, and cut off communication with me, seemingly indefinitely.
Uber, what happened? Why won't you talk to me? I know it’s been months since we’ve been in touch, but we had something really great going on. Isn't there a way to start fresh? I miss you. And sure, my friends tell me to move on. "Try Lyft" they say. But it's just not the same. I miss being able to hail you from my phone in the middle of Bushwick at 3 a.m. on a Saturday. I miss being able to listen to MY music when we're stuck in traffic. I miss your fun on-demand ice cream and strange-but-adorable puppy promotions. But mostly, Uber, I miss the candy. Please call. I'll be waiting by the phone.