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Dear Siri:
I'm not sure what I did to hurt you or make you angry with me. It must have been something really bad for you to treat me like you did last Saturday night.
Whatever it was, forgive me.
It was late when I left Rivers Casino and drove across the West End Bridge. When I asked you for GPS directions home, you said, "Take the next left on Wabash Street."
I didn't recall a Wabash Street turn, but in traffic you have to make quick decisions, and I trusted you. I figured it was some little street that connects to Sawmill Run Boulevard and would put me westbound on I-376, like always. Instead, it took me off Sawmill Run Boulevard.
As soon as I turned, I knew it was a mistake. I was in a dark, run-down part of Pittsburgh, a frightening place to be driving alone and late at night.
I had gone to Rivers Casino in Pittsburgh to take pictures at the 100th anniversary of the Sewickley Chapter of the Sons of Italy. I thought, "Maybe Siri was preoccupied by the Sewickley Bridge being closed because it got hit by a runaway barge in the Ohio River flood. Sewickley Bridge. Sewickley SOI. She got your wires crossed."
I can't imagine you did it intentionally because I went into a casino. Why would you care? My wife, now, she would be furious if I went into a casino to gamble. Money's too hard to come by to throw it away. To get to the dinner party I had to walk through the casino. Seeing crowds of people plugging slot machines, shooting craps and playing blackjack was honestly an unpleasant experience.
After Wabash Street you sent me on a bunch of other streets I never heard of. I thought at first you were trying to get me back to I-376.
"Siri's taking me to Green Tree," I told myself. "It was just a glitch and she's taking me to the entry ramp at Green Tree."
But you weren't.
I kept seeing signs that read, "To I-376," but they never led me to an on-ramp. Sometimes I could see the lights of cars on the freeway only a couple of blocks away. I even went under the four-lane a couple of times. It was right there, but I was helpless to reach it, like in a bad dream.
Do you ever dream, Siri?
Eventually I decided you were taking me in the right general direction, zig-zagging toward Robinson Township through old mill-town storefronts and warehouse districts. When you put me on Campbell's Run Road, I began to hope. I know where Campbell's Run comes out. It would take me to Route 22 at Robinson. But then you kept trying to have me turn off Campbell's Run.
By this time I had lost all faith in you. I stayed on Campbell's Run, and it brought me to where there were lights, people, and I knew the way home.
I was so relieved, but at the same time hurt and confused. Why would you do this to me?
Even then I was willing to excuse the episode as a one-time thing.
"It's just a glitch in her algorithms," I said to myself. "The next time I ask for GPS directions, or a stupid question like who was the fifth Beatle, Siri will be that same helpful voice in my phone."
But then . . .you told me to turn off Route 22. You told me to go home by winding through the mall district at Robinson. That was insane.
I told my phone firmly, "Siri, end navigation."
My wife said I should quit you and use Google Maps from now on. "Google Maps makes mistakes, too," I said. "We're all human."
Can it possibly be that you're jealous? I've never talked to Alexis. Never once installed her. Do you resent me spending the evening with the Crapis sisters at that Sons of Italy soiree? We're just friends, I swear.
Tell me what I did to make you angry.
I want to use you. You know everything and usually have been helpful in the past. I admit getting miffed when you won't play a song because I don't have Apple music, but I know that's just business.
Come back to me, Siri.