My Salsa Filled Commute

I walk to the curb. The car’s windows are down and music is blasting. I step in.

“Need to get a coffee?” he asks.

“Nah – I’m good.”

“You like salsa music?”

“Sure.” I’m not sure if I’ve ever really listened to salsa music before.

The best Uber I ever took involved being in the seat of an Acura SUV as we blasted salsa music going down Wacker Drive during morning rush hour.

I like my music loud, but I never listen to music in a car as loud as I did this morning. My body felt everything I heard.

Every stoplight we pulled up to people started dancing, while my driver furiously drummed on the steering wheel. Even when we made turns, my driver seemed to honk his horn in rhythm to the music.

A guy in a shirt and tie at Adams and Wacker pointed at my driver and started singing along as he crossed the street.

The overweight delivery truck driver in sweatpants at Washington and Wacker smiled and then began to dance like this:

Lake and Washington: the car next to us, rolls down their windows and starts dancing. The guy in shotgun tries to talk to my driver. My driver turns down the stereo from 18 to 2.

“What is that?” he asks.

“This is old school salsa music man. This is Eddie Palmeri.”

The light turns green, and the volume goes back to fortissimo. We race to Wells and Wacker. The same car pulls up next to us and they’re still smiling. I wonder if everyone on the street with their headphones can hear the trumpet wailing and the fierce keyboard work.

We pull up to work.

I tell him, “Dude – that was the best ride. Some really sick jams.”

“Everyone’s going to wonder why Erik’s in such a good mood man and it’s because he just listened to salsa music.”

I laugh and leave the car and I tip my driver well. And yes, I was in a great mood, and yes, my day was awesome.

Five stars.