A Wild Car Story (part 2)

We returned to the convention center, vying for sidewalk space with an increasing number of Riverfest attendees. We found the bathroom (where the sink handle proceeded to break off in my hand), and we sank into a couple chairs outside the vendor hall just in time for the call.

The conversation started poorly. “The tow company can’t get you until midnight,” claimed Roadside Service. “There’s some festival in downtown Wichita that has brought in 10,000 extra people and is closing all the roads there.”

I jumped up to grab a map from the conference hosts. “Tell them I can get them here! These roads aren’t closed!” I gestured frantically at the map while Brit-Brit attempted to listen both to me and the Roadside Service agent. She calmly relayed my insistence to the agent.

“I’m very sorry, but we simply cannot retrieve the car until midnight. And we cannot release a new car to you until the current one has been towed. Let me check if we can deliver a car to you by 7am.”

Brit-Brit and I resumed our seats, she calmly explaining the dilemma, I fuming at inefficiency and poor service. Our opposing approaches to the situation resulted in quite the brilliant (and logical) brainstorm: if the rental car company couldn’t get a car to our hotel by 7am, we would simply have to cancel our contract and find another rental company.

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"Did you push the start button?"

"Yes, we've tried everything and the car won't start."

"Does the key have a square end or a rounded end?"

Silence.

"Ma’am?"

"Um, it has a kind of rounded square end?"

Brit-Brit and our new Roadside Service agent, Charlie, repeated this conversation for about 10 minutes, finally determining that indeed it was not operator error and the car was truly broken. Meanwhile, I evaded overambitious homeschool security guards and finally found my convention contact to ask if we could catch a lift to our hotel.

When we reunited at the car, Charlie had managed to cut through a great deal of red tape on our behalf, to the point where he practically promised the delivery of a new car to our hotel within the hour. We manually locked the car, leaving the key under the backseat, and hiked all our stuff back to the convention center, where kindly board members of the convention delivered us to our hotel.

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The saga closed without much more drama: we finally ate dinner (huzzah for Pizza Hut delivery!) and the car arrived about 10:15pm. The whole episode only took three hours, though it felt much longer. And that leaves one more life lesson learned the hard way: always listen to your rental car’s feelings.

A Wild Car Story (part 1)

So here's a life lesson for you: cars are smarter than you think they are and getting smarter by the year. When your rental car tells you that the keyless entry system needs to be serviced, you better call the rental company ASAP...otherwise, you might end up stranded in a parking lot talking to Emergency Roadside Service for a few hours.

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The day started so inauspiciously: Brit-Brit spilled milk on her skirt. "This will be a strange day," she warned me. "I never spill things in the morning."

The omen seemed unfulfilled as the day passed. The rental car notified us that the keyless system needed servicing, but the notification disappeared within minutes. The convention went well, despite standing on the concrete floors for 11 hours, and we felt that all-in-all, it had been quite the successful day. Now, to find dinner and rest our weary legs at the hotel that evening.

We marveled at the throngs of people arriving for the Riverfest—this was a population vastly different than the families we had interacted with all day. On the brief walk to the car, we noted how the weather was quite nice: a bit warm, yet not nearly as humid as Virginia. We discussed where to find dinner: downtown Wichita? Or takeout?

Our thoughts of an easy evening were interrupted when the car wouldn’t unlock via the keyless remote. A bit perturbed, we finagled the physical key out of the remote and opened the car.

It refused to power on. In fact, the car was so locked down that the radio wouldn't even play as we sat there, attempting to find a keyhole where we could manually start the car. For goodness' sake, who would invent a keyless car with a 'push to start' button without a manual backup? "That person isn't making my 'smart list' right now," Brit-Brit quipped.

We called the rental company: "Yes, hello, our car won't start."

"Ok, we'll send a tow truck. It will take 30-60 minutes."

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The car was rather warm, and we were fairly hungry, so we manually locked it and wandered toward downtown Wichita, waiting for the 'rescue call.' Finding Wichita a rather deserted city, growing hungrier by the minute, and wishing we'd stopped at the ladies' room before leaving the convention center, we finally spotted a Quizno's on the next corner. Subs? Sure, it's better than nothing.

Except, Quizno's refused us entrance. "We can't let any more people in," they claimed. "Not even to use the bathroom?" we queried. "No, we're sorry."

Puzzled, since there were several empty tables, we wandered back to the convention center, laughing at the irony of our quandary: what else could happen tonight??

a strange airport happening

In honor of my trip tomorrow and airports in general, I give you a true story from a few weeks ago:

I strolled down the hall, stretching my legs during our 2+ hour layover in DFW. Having my father's fetish for knowing where I am and where I could be, I paused to examine the terminal map on the wall. Turning, I began the journey back to my seatmate, when I noticed an AirServe employee throw his hands up in exasperation. He caught my eye and quickly strode toward me.

"Ma'am! Are you waiting?" I looked at him in confusion. Am I not supposed to be down here? Why is this airport employee accosting me? Typically I view airport employees like lifeguards--we coexist but do not interact unless dire need or racaus behavior forces communication.

Airport Man continued: "Are you...keelling time? Are you waiting for your flight??" His urgency was unmistakable, though I could not understand why.

"Uh, yeah," I replied.

"Oh, can you help this ladeey?? She needs to be at gate A16! Can you please help her?"

"Um...sure..." I wavered between confusion and curiousity.

"Ok, ok, go get de wheelchair!" I obediently walked across the way; remembering the family with the '4-wheel lock' stroller from the previous day, I deftly unlocked the wheels and returned to Airport Man.

"Wheen is your flight? Do you have time?"

"Yeah, I have 45 minutes."

"Oooh," he glanced at his watch. "Ok, you take her and then you run back!" he exclaimed while pushing his arms back and forth like a runner.

We loaded the woman and her possessions onto the wheelchair. He chattered about gate A16 and if I saw anyone with his uniform, I should just pass her off to them (while making a motion that reminded me of a lateral football pass). From sheer curiousity, I asked him why he couldn't take her. "Oh, I half to drive upstairs! Ok, let's go! Oh wait! WAIT!!"

A cart drove by at that exact moment. "Wait, she needs to go to A16! Ok, thank you wery much!" (directed at me) "Come help me! A16!" (directed at the cart driver)

I stood for a minute, watching them load up, still slightly befuddled at the whole situation. "Thank you wery much!" Feeling the vibe that I was no longer needed, I turned and walked away, ending the entire scenario as abruptly as it had begun.

Hoping for Mass

I went to New England this weekend.

Specifically, to Worcester (which, for all you southerners, is pronounced "Wuss-ter") for the MASSHOPE homeschool conference, where my co-workers and I proceeded to tear down, blast apart, and smash previous sales records. Ooh yeah!

But while Worcester was fun (had my first taste of Uno's!), the real highlight was probably the little side trips we took to Boston, since we flew in and out of there. There really is nothing like eating Italian food in the North End, listening to Italian TV during lunch on Hanover Street, Italian waitresses saying "Whaat, do these people think we are a public restaroom!", cannoli from Mike's Pastry with only a 15 minute wait, and our version of 'clubbing.'

Oh, and the view from our hotel at sunset over Boston (thanks to friend who took this on his iphone):