My Uber Eats order from Popeyes is 1 minute away and has been for 5 minutes. I go to the window of my third-floor apartment to see if the lost delivery person is walking around, as is often the case. There are two UCPD cars and one campus services car outside my window. They have blue police lights flashing, but no sirens on. Two people in orange reflective safety vests are outside the vehicle looking at something. It’s too dark to make out what they are looking at. There is a parked car in the midst of the triangle the other three cars form, but it’s not at the curb, it’s standing with its hazards on, like Uber Eats drivers do. Shit. 

 

I try not to make assumptions, but I am suspicious.

 

I remember walking with a group to my first party at UChicago. Specifically, I remember the drunk homeless person who was yelling things at us from across the street as he walked along it. As a New Yorker, I’m trained to not remember this, to keep walking and not engage. I looked back because my friend was experiencing his third day in America and had stopped. He didn’t know to keep walking and to not engage. I remember this moment because, looking back, I saw a UCPD officer in the homeless man’s shadow. The officer was trailing him, keeping pace with his steps and standing an arm’s length away.  

 

I remember walking with a group to my third party at UChicago. Specifically, I remember my class-president-roommate running back to the group after retrieving his forgotten wallet from our dorm. I’m not the type of person who usually remembers such things. I remember this moment because, looking back, I saw a UCPD officer in my roommate’s shadow. The officer was trailing him. He stopped walking and turned away when he saw my class-president-roommate join our group. It’s important to this story that my class-president-roommate was black. 

 

I assume my Uber Eats driver is black because most gig economy participants in South Side Chicago are and I’m suspicious that the UCPD has profiled him and is currently harassing him as they often do. I wonder if it’s too early to start feeling guilty for having summoned them into the trap for minorities that is this campus. I’m also quite hungry at this point. It’s important to this story that I’m white.

 

I unlock my phone and see that the car is still 1 minute away. 

 

I’m startled by my doorbell disrupting the dead silence of the night. No approaching car sounds or opening of car doors. I buzz him into the building and put on my mask. I’m surprised to find him in my stairwell because my Uber Eats instructions ask for the food to be left in the lobby. 

 

“They didn’t have any apple pies, here’s the receipt you should request a refund.” 

“Okay, no worries, thanks.”

“Man, that was the worst Popeyes that I’ve ever been to in my life.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” I say, reflexively. 

“Nah man I’m sorry for you. That’s your Popeyes. You live here.”

 

I went back to my apartment with my food and looked out the window to see what car he’d driven up in so stealthily that I hadn’t heard him. Instead, I saw him walking towards a car that wasn’t very close to my house. He had parked by the entrance of the hospital that treats COVID patients and walked for 10 extra minutes round trip. I can’t be certain why he parked so far away, but I have a suspicion. It was the only place he could have parked to avoid passing by the officers because I live on a one-way street. It’s important to this story that, yes, the Uber Eatsdriver was black.