48 Hours
The following is a brief summary of 48 hours out of my week, with one additional, notable event from Tuesday tagged on at the outset. I sincerely hope that you enjoy the description more than I enjoyed the experience. (All times are approximate, since I didn’t keep a journal of these events. They are added solely for dramatic and comedic effect.)
Tuesday
1:00 PM – arrive home for lunch with my paycheck. I put it on my desk, thinking that I will deposit it the next day. (I won't remember to do that).
Wednesday
3:45 PM – I am preparing to leave for Orlando on a business trip in five minutes. It occurs to me for the first time that maybe, JUST MAYBE, I might need to bring some cash. I ask Sheila if she has any, and she says she doesn’t. She suggests I could borrow $10 from my 8 year-old, who just got some cash for her birthday. “Naaah,” I reply, what good would $10 do me anyway? I’ll just get cash at an ATM in the airport.
3:46 PM – Sheila notices the check on my desk. She asks if it would be a good idea to deposit it. I say yes. She agrees to do it later today.
4:00 PM- on the way to the airport, Sheila calls. She mentions that we are showing a positive balance in our checking account, but asks about whether we should transfer a little more money, since it is getting low, and the check won’t clear until Thursday. “Naaah,” I say, confident that we’ll be okay for another day or two.
4:30 PM – (approx.) Sheila deposits my paycheck.
11:00 PM (now Eastern time) – arrive in Orlando, and get my rental car. I reach into my briefcase to find the map to my hotel that I printed a few days ago. It isn’t there.
11:01 PM – call the hotel for directions. I get the most confusing explanation for how to get from one place to another that is conceivable. Plus, I think that I’ve already started driving in the wrong direction.
11:02 PM – call Sheila. She generates a map on the computer. We both note that I will have to get on a toll road to get to my hotel. That’s okay, I say confidently, I’ll go get some cash at an ATM.
11:04 PM – I pull into a Bank of America. The ATM indicates that I have a $0 balance. “Hmmm, must be broken,” I muse.
11:10 PM – I pull up to another bank and try to get money out of an ATM. Again, it shows a $0 balance. Turns out that we have pending transactions that could cause us to be overdrawn, so the system won’t make any money available to me.
11:11 PM – I seriously consider uttering something at the machine that my mother taught me I should never, never say. I’m proud to say, however, that I didn’t.
11:12 PM – I call Sheila. Can she find me an alternate route to the hotel that doesn’t cost money? Sure, she says with surprisingly little exasperation (she was a saint through all of this!). In the meantime, I’m looking at a map for a route that I will need to drive the next morning to get to a deposition in Melbourne. It will involve THREE toll roads.
11:45 PM – While at the hotel, I (along with Sheila, who is at home) begin a two hour search for some means for me to get my hands on a few dollars for toll money. Eventually, Sheila wires some money through Western Union. She is told that I can get it at a machine at a nearby 7-11. I decide that I will do that on my way out of town in the morning. After all, how much time could THAT take?
Thursday
6:50 AM – In need of cash so I can get on the toll roads, I pull up to the 7-11 and go to use the Western Union machine. It won’t give me any money. I call Western Union. The lady on the other end of the line tells me that I need to show a photo ID to a live agent for this type of transaction. I tell her that we were told I could get it from this machine. For some reason, she doesn’t seem to care. I ask her where to find a live agent. She asks for the zipcode that I’m in. I tell her what city I’m in. She says she needs the zipcode again, using a tone which suggests that I am either an idiot or that I am deaf. I tell her I don’t have a clue. She says she can’t help me without the zipcode. My problem, clearly, is not her problem.
6:53 AM - I think about swearing again, but decide against it.
7:20 AM – Desperate to get on the road, because I am now running behind schedule, I start down the first toll-road, cashless. I have no money and no plan.
7:24 AM – I drive through a toll booth without paying money. An obnoxious buzzer goes off and a yellow light starts flashing behind me. I halfway expect half of the Florida State Police to start chasing me down the freeway, OJ style, but nothing happens.
7:33 AM – I blow through a second toll booth. No buzzers this time.
7:44 AM – I blow through a third toll booth. Buzzers and lights again. I’m really feeling like a criminal, now, but still no police pursuit.
7:47 AM – Sheila calls. She has looked at the tollway authority’s web site. It turns out that they take your car’s picture when you drive through without paying, and they write you a friendly letter. They give you a chance to pay your money for the toll. And that’s it.
7:50 AM – I breathe a sigh of relief that I will probably not be pulled over. But my desperate crime spree in the Deep South has not been without cost. Turns out, the cost – if any – will eventually be $1.50. I paid more than this for a soda at the airport.
7:54 AM – I’m starting to feel less like a criminal and more like a run-of-the-mill moron again.
8:40 AM – after arriving at my destination, I find a grocery store with a Western Union sign. I show my ID and they give me cash. Sweet.
11:45 AM – my deposition is over. I’m not scheduled to leave Orlando until 6:20, but I call the airline to see if they will let me fly out earlier on standby. Apparently, there is room for standby passengers on a flight that is scheduled for 2:56. The agent that I speak with mentions something about watching the time and weather in Dallas. I don’t pay much attention to that. After all, I need to get to the airport to catch that plane!
12:00 noon – I drive past exits to some of the nicest beaches in the continental US. I wistfully think about how I wish I could spend an hour or two on them. However, I need to rush to the airport to get on standby for the 2:56 flight. After all, its waiting for me. Right?
12:50 PM – I drive past signs pointing to Disney World and Universal Studios. I wistfully think about how I always wanted to go to Universal Studios. Oh well, no time for that now. I need to hurry home!
2:00 PM – At the airport. After getting myself on standby and working my way through security, I stride confidently to my gate. The sign on the gate shows that the 2:56 flight is delayed until 6:00. It turns out that this is because of weather in Dallas earlier in the day.
2:03 PM – It occurs to me that if I had listened to the nice agent on the phone back at 11:45, I could have sat on a beach under a spectacular Florida sun for about three hours this afternoon. As things stand, I will end up sitting around for four hours in the airport.
2:33 PM – As I look around the Orlando airport, I remember that I last came through the airport on the first night of my honeymoon in 1987. However, I don’t really remember much about it. Probably had other things on my mind at the time.
3:45 PM –I’m still thinking about how I could be on the beach right now, or at least on the Jurassic Park ride at Universal Studios.
4:03 PM – I go to a magazine stand to look for something to read. They have to have about 50 different magazines. None of them look interesting. Not even Computer Gaming World.
5:00 PM – I learn that I won’t be able to get on standby on the other flight. I can still get on my original flight, however, which is now scheduled to leave at 7:56.
8:10 PM – I’m in the air, heading toward Dallas.
9:45 PM (now central time) – we’ve landed! Along with about 4 dozen other jets! There are no gates available! Our plane is told that we’re going to have to wait for two hours to get a gate! Behind my calm exterior, my thinking is starting to be punctuated with exclamation marks!
10:01 PM – Reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond are being shown on the plane's TV monitors. Never seen this before. I decide to give it a try, and watch it for a while.
10:11 PM – I decide that, while Raymond is mildly amusing, I really don’t like it that much.
10:59 PM – Still watching Raymond. (Hey, I’m bored and tired!)
11:45 PM – As we approach the gate, I am told that my connecting flight to Abilene is still available. So I guess I’d better rush to gate A2, huh?
12:00 midnight – I’m at gate A2. The doors are closed, I see no passengers, and the monitors are off. There is one maintenance guy on an escalator moving away from the gate, and not another soul in the area. My keen senses and extensive experience in air travel are telling me that, unless they are hiding the plane, flight crew, and passengers from me, my flight left before I got there.
12:05 AM – I speak with a ticketing representative at a gate where a flight is waiting to leave for Boston. She gives me the option of getting in a hotel at a “distressed passenger” rate. Based on the description alone, it sounds like I qualify for this discount. I choose the Marriott North hotel because it is closest to the airport. That way, I naively reason, I can get there sooner!
12:15 AM – I get to the “courtesy van” pickup area near my gate. Several other “distressed passengers” are already waiting as well for transportation to their hotels. For the next hour, I wait for a red and white Marriott North van to show up and be courteous to me. I see lots of other vans for lots of other hotels. Especially Super 8 vans. Every third van is a Super 8 van, casually driving by to see if anyone wants a lift to their properties. Like the unscrupulous lawyer on an accident scene, these vans drive by hoping to pick up business from the “distressed passengers.” But there are no takers. Nobody, it seems, is distressed enough to go with the Super 8 just yet.
1:15 AM – I see a red and white Marriott van! It turns and leaves the garage before it gets to the area where I am waiting! Its not going to pick me up! How about that, I think to myself, placing lots of exclamation marks at the end of my thought!!!!
1:30 AM – I walk to another courtesy van area that is earlier on the apparent route of the Marriott vans.
1:45 AM – The van pulls up. I load up my stuff, along with several other passengers. The very nice driver inside offers us a bottle of water, I suppose to make up for the 1 and a half hour wait. I just sit down.
1:55 AM – I wait in line to check in to the hotel behind a lot of other passengers, in varying stages of "distress" - some of whom are at an acute, yell-at-everyone-in-sight stage.
2:05 AM – I get to my room. My key card doesn’t work. I have to go back downstairs.
2:10 AM – A hotel employee follows me to room, probably thinking that I am a moron who doesn’t know how to work a key card. Little does the employee know that I am NOT the sort-of moron who doesn’t know how to work a key card. I am the sort-of moron who doesn’t remember to deposit his paycheck and doesn’t bring cash with him when he travels. I am also a wanted man in the State of Florida. The new card, it turns out, works.
2:30 AM – As I go to sleep, I start thinking about how my experiences for the last 48 hours needs to be preserved for posterity in my blog.
Tuesday
1:00 PM – arrive home for lunch with my paycheck. I put it on my desk, thinking that I will deposit it the next day. (I won't remember to do that).
Wednesday
3:45 PM – I am preparing to leave for Orlando on a business trip in five minutes. It occurs to me for the first time that maybe, JUST MAYBE, I might need to bring some cash. I ask Sheila if she has any, and she says she doesn’t. She suggests I could borrow $10 from my 8 year-old, who just got some cash for her birthday. “Naaah,” I reply, what good would $10 do me anyway? I’ll just get cash at an ATM in the airport.
3:46 PM – Sheila notices the check on my desk. She asks if it would be a good idea to deposit it. I say yes. She agrees to do it later today.
4:00 PM- on the way to the airport, Sheila calls. She mentions that we are showing a positive balance in our checking account, but asks about whether we should transfer a little more money, since it is getting low, and the check won’t clear until Thursday. “Naaah,” I say, confident that we’ll be okay for another day or two.
4:30 PM – (approx.) Sheila deposits my paycheck.
11:00 PM (now Eastern time) – arrive in Orlando, and get my rental car. I reach into my briefcase to find the map to my hotel that I printed a few days ago. It isn’t there.
11:01 PM – call the hotel for directions. I get the most confusing explanation for how to get from one place to another that is conceivable. Plus, I think that I’ve already started driving in the wrong direction.
11:02 PM – call Sheila. She generates a map on the computer. We both note that I will have to get on a toll road to get to my hotel. That’s okay, I say confidently, I’ll go get some cash at an ATM.
11:04 PM – I pull into a Bank of America. The ATM indicates that I have a $0 balance. “Hmmm, must be broken,” I muse.
11:10 PM – I pull up to another bank and try to get money out of an ATM. Again, it shows a $0 balance. Turns out that we have pending transactions that could cause us to be overdrawn, so the system won’t make any money available to me.
11:11 PM – I seriously consider uttering something at the machine that my mother taught me I should never, never say. I’m proud to say, however, that I didn’t.
11:12 PM – I call Sheila. Can she find me an alternate route to the hotel that doesn’t cost money? Sure, she says with surprisingly little exasperation (she was a saint through all of this!). In the meantime, I’m looking at a map for a route that I will need to drive the next morning to get to a deposition in Melbourne. It will involve THREE toll roads.
11:45 PM – While at the hotel, I (along with Sheila, who is at home) begin a two hour search for some means for me to get my hands on a few dollars for toll money. Eventually, Sheila wires some money through Western Union. She is told that I can get it at a machine at a nearby 7-11. I decide that I will do that on my way out of town in the morning. After all, how much time could THAT take?
Thursday
6:50 AM – In need of cash so I can get on the toll roads, I pull up to the 7-11 and go to use the Western Union machine. It won’t give me any money. I call Western Union. The lady on the other end of the line tells me that I need to show a photo ID to a live agent for this type of transaction. I tell her that we were told I could get it from this machine. For some reason, she doesn’t seem to care. I ask her where to find a live agent. She asks for the zipcode that I’m in. I tell her what city I’m in. She says she needs the zipcode again, using a tone which suggests that I am either an idiot or that I am deaf. I tell her I don’t have a clue. She says she can’t help me without the zipcode. My problem, clearly, is not her problem.
6:53 AM - I think about swearing again, but decide against it.
7:20 AM – Desperate to get on the road, because I am now running behind schedule, I start down the first toll-road, cashless. I have no money and no plan.
7:24 AM – I drive through a toll booth without paying money. An obnoxious buzzer goes off and a yellow light starts flashing behind me. I halfway expect half of the Florida State Police to start chasing me down the freeway, OJ style, but nothing happens.
7:33 AM – I blow through a second toll booth. No buzzers this time.
7:44 AM – I blow through a third toll booth. Buzzers and lights again. I’m really feeling like a criminal, now, but still no police pursuit.
7:47 AM – Sheila calls. She has looked at the tollway authority’s web site. It turns out that they take your car’s picture when you drive through without paying, and they write you a friendly letter. They give you a chance to pay your money for the toll. And that’s it.
7:50 AM – I breathe a sigh of relief that I will probably not be pulled over. But my desperate crime spree in the Deep South has not been without cost. Turns out, the cost – if any – will eventually be $1.50. I paid more than this for a soda at the airport.
7:54 AM – I’m starting to feel less like a criminal and more like a run-of-the-mill moron again.
8:40 AM – after arriving at my destination, I find a grocery store with a Western Union sign. I show my ID and they give me cash. Sweet.
11:45 AM – my deposition is over. I’m not scheduled to leave Orlando until 6:20, but I call the airline to see if they will let me fly out earlier on standby. Apparently, there is room for standby passengers on a flight that is scheduled for 2:56. The agent that I speak with mentions something about watching the time and weather in Dallas. I don’t pay much attention to that. After all, I need to get to the airport to catch that plane!
12:00 noon – I drive past exits to some of the nicest beaches in the continental US. I wistfully think about how I wish I could spend an hour or two on them. However, I need to rush to the airport to get on standby for the 2:56 flight. After all, its waiting for me. Right?
12:50 PM – I drive past signs pointing to Disney World and Universal Studios. I wistfully think about how I always wanted to go to Universal Studios. Oh well, no time for that now. I need to hurry home!
2:00 PM – At the airport. After getting myself on standby and working my way through security, I stride confidently to my gate. The sign on the gate shows that the 2:56 flight is delayed until 6:00. It turns out that this is because of weather in Dallas earlier in the day.
2:03 PM – It occurs to me that if I had listened to the nice agent on the phone back at 11:45, I could have sat on a beach under a spectacular Florida sun for about three hours this afternoon. As things stand, I will end up sitting around for four hours in the airport.
2:33 PM – As I look around the Orlando airport, I remember that I last came through the airport on the first night of my honeymoon in 1987. However, I don’t really remember much about it. Probably had other things on my mind at the time.
3:45 PM –I’m still thinking about how I could be on the beach right now, or at least on the Jurassic Park ride at Universal Studios.
4:03 PM – I go to a magazine stand to look for something to read. They have to have about 50 different magazines. None of them look interesting. Not even Computer Gaming World.
5:00 PM – I learn that I won’t be able to get on standby on the other flight. I can still get on my original flight, however, which is now scheduled to leave at 7:56.
8:10 PM – I’m in the air, heading toward Dallas.
9:45 PM (now central time) – we’ve landed! Along with about 4 dozen other jets! There are no gates available! Our plane is told that we’re going to have to wait for two hours to get a gate! Behind my calm exterior, my thinking is starting to be punctuated with exclamation marks!
10:01 PM – Reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond are being shown on the plane's TV monitors. Never seen this before. I decide to give it a try, and watch it for a while.
10:11 PM – I decide that, while Raymond is mildly amusing, I really don’t like it that much.
10:59 PM – Still watching Raymond. (Hey, I’m bored and tired!)
11:45 PM – As we approach the gate, I am told that my connecting flight to Abilene is still available. So I guess I’d better rush to gate A2, huh?
12:00 midnight – I’m at gate A2. The doors are closed, I see no passengers, and the monitors are off. There is one maintenance guy on an escalator moving away from the gate, and not another soul in the area. My keen senses and extensive experience in air travel are telling me that, unless they are hiding the plane, flight crew, and passengers from me, my flight left before I got there.
12:05 AM – I speak with a ticketing representative at a gate where a flight is waiting to leave for Boston. She gives me the option of getting in a hotel at a “distressed passenger” rate. Based on the description alone, it sounds like I qualify for this discount. I choose the Marriott North hotel because it is closest to the airport. That way, I naively reason, I can get there sooner!
12:15 AM – I get to the “courtesy van” pickup area near my gate. Several other “distressed passengers” are already waiting as well for transportation to their hotels. For the next hour, I wait for a red and white Marriott North van to show up and be courteous to me. I see lots of other vans for lots of other hotels. Especially Super 8 vans. Every third van is a Super 8 van, casually driving by to see if anyone wants a lift to their properties. Like the unscrupulous lawyer on an accident scene, these vans drive by hoping to pick up business from the “distressed passengers.” But there are no takers. Nobody, it seems, is distressed enough to go with the Super 8 just yet.
1:15 AM – I see a red and white Marriott van! It turns and leaves the garage before it gets to the area where I am waiting! Its not going to pick me up! How about that, I think to myself, placing lots of exclamation marks at the end of my thought!!!!
1:30 AM – I walk to another courtesy van area that is earlier on the apparent route of the Marriott vans.
1:45 AM – The van pulls up. I load up my stuff, along with several other passengers. The very nice driver inside offers us a bottle of water, I suppose to make up for the 1 and a half hour wait. I just sit down.
1:55 AM – I wait in line to check in to the hotel behind a lot of other passengers, in varying stages of "distress" - some of whom are at an acute, yell-at-everyone-in-sight stage.
2:05 AM – I get to my room. My key card doesn’t work. I have to go back downstairs.
2:10 AM – A hotel employee follows me to room, probably thinking that I am a moron who doesn’t know how to work a key card. Little does the employee know that I am NOT the sort-of moron who doesn’t know how to work a key card. I am the sort-of moron who doesn’t remember to deposit his paycheck and doesn’t bring cash with him when he travels. I am also a wanted man in the State of Florida. The new card, it turns out, works.
2:30 AM – As I go to sleep, I start thinking about how my experiences for the last 48 hours needs to be preserved for posterity in my blog.
posted by Matt at Friday, July 08, 2005
2 Comments:
Oh my - what a travel experience. Next time you are stranded at DFW, you are more than welcome to call me!
And why don't you have your paycheck direct deposited???
Traveling! What fun!
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