A short trip back to PA for my mom’s birthday and some work projects went off without a hitch. Getting home was the tricky part.
Having run my Thrifty rental bone dry of gas, I made mention that we would have to get an earlier start for the Philly airport to fill up. I know I made mention of this. I really mentioned it!
Somehow, as we got in the car to head to PHL, Duane looked at the fuel gauge and said, “#$%@^ – we have to stop and get gas.” (Neither of us were inclined to pay the $8 a gallon option to return the car less than full.)
So really, what’s a five minute stop to get gas? We’ll be fine.
Except we couldn’t figure out how to open the gas cap. Insert additional expletives and imagine Duane pulling on the gas flap (is that what you call it?) while I furiously try to read the user’s manual. Ten minutes and counting.
Finally, I slammed it in frustration. And it opened. Ohhhhhhhhh….so THAT’s how it works.
Back on track for PHL! We’re hitting a little traffic, but making headway, finally pulling into the rental car return area. Passing Enterprise…passing Hertz…passing Dollar…passing Budget….um…exiting the airport.
Where the #$%^^$ was Thrifty????????
Pulling over to get our bearings and becoming increasingly annoyed with each other as every moment passed, I suddenly recall, “Oh. That’s right – I took a shuttle to get the car.” (NOTE: Look folks, it was a busy, roller coaster of a week. Friday’s arrival seemed like a lifetime ago.)
Another 15 minutes to find the off-campus Thrifty depot, and begging the shuttle to not wait for other passengers and get us to the gate! Our driver made like the wind, leaping over bumps and using skills reminiscent of hair-raising taxicab rides in Mexico.
A rare window of grace – no lines at security – had us arriving at the final boarding call. Whew! We made it.
And that, you would think, was that.
Fast forward five hours later (there are no directs to Sarasota from PHL) we arrive to the land of sun and palm trees once again. We pick up our little fluffball from the doggie sitter and head back to our condo…turn the key…
…NO. Really? Five inches of water EVERYWHERE?
Somehow while we were gone, the water in our washing machine inexplicably turned on, filled up and opened the door (front loading), flooding the kitchen, dining room, parts of the living room and my office, ruining rugs and leaving a lovely, musty, yucky aroma while warping hardwood floors.
1. Thank GOD we are renting.
2. Thank GOD again for renter’s insurance.
Over the next ten days, this little condo will be taken over by huge fans and dehumidifiers, the baseboards ripped out and floorboards replaced.
We are leaving for a little “vacation” at a resort in the heart of Siesta Key, a grand resolve to turn these lemons into lemonade.
Isn’t it true that the things that go wrong often make the best stories?