The Wandering Writer

When you’re jet lagged and running off maybe two hours of sleep, you forget to check the open/close hours of the place where you booked a rental car in Honolulu (which you only booked because it was so much cheaper than picking up at the airport). You take a city bus to the rental place. The bus driver continuously gets off the bus to help people on/off because “it’s Christmas,” he says. His sweet gesture causes you to arrive at the rental place at 12:03 only to learn that they closed AT NOON, and, despite them being inside the office, they will only talk to you through the glass door and say there’s nothing they can do for you (because a magical elf locked the door and they can’t possibly unlock it? Fuck off). You call corporate and cry because you are so damn jet lagged and you just want a bloody car and for fuck’s sake you were only three minutes late and those three minutes were from the bus driver helping two elderly people onto the bus and into seats.

Corporate says you have to go back to the airport to pick up a car and the cost has now gone up SIX times. A security guard helps you call a taxi. The people in the rental place still watch you from behind the glass door, and you resist flicking them all off.

At the airport rental place a young girl says you look like you had a rough day. You tell her you just flew in from Thailand and three minutes has just fucked your bank account because does your US account even have $1,000+?? She walks you outside. She puts her finger to her lips and whispers “let’s give you a free upgrade.” Again, your eyes water because you’re tired and foggy, and this girl is so nice, but also still screw those people behind the stupid glass door.

And that is how you end up in a sexy convertible VW bug in Hawai’i.

Stay tuned for the sequel: How Jet Lag Made Me Steal A Bottle Of Water From Dunkin Donuts.