By the time I met Luis, I was feeling pretty cranky.
Luis, age approximately 25, hairstyle man bun, sat behind the Avis counter at Boston Logan airport. It was Sunday, late afternoon--yesterday, though it seems longer ago than that. I'd had four hours' sleep between the end of the pathetic Notre Dame/Stanford football game and getting up to drive to Midway airport, and I didn't use them well. Then I flew to Detroit, said goodbye to my darling daughter much faster than I'd planned (I'd already said goodbye to darling husband and darling son). Then, inexplicably, I forgot to eat lunch, so that by the time I landed in Boston, retrieved my luggage, navigated the complex overcrowded shuttle to the rental station and encountered Luis, I was in a crummy mood.
"We got you down for a mid-size," Luis said. "You want something bigger than that?"
I said,"No."
Luis said, "You wanna drive a Mustang?"
"No."
"You wanna drive an SUV?"
"No."
Luis sighed. "You WANNA drive a Toyota Corolla?"
"Look," I said. "I'm going to be driving in Boston. Last time I was driving here it didn't go well. I want something as small as possible." (Though the instant I said that, I realized I last drove in Boston thirty years ago, when I didn't have glasses, depth perception, a map, or a GPS. And I was driving a full-size van. So maybe things are different now.)
Luis got on the phone with someone and discussed cars for a few minutes. He said things like, "Nah, man, that's what she wants," and then he hung up and said to me, "They're trying to find you a Corolla. He's gonna call me back." Then he said, "You want the insurance coverage?"
"No."
"You want to prepay for gas?"
"No."
"You want to rent a GPS?"
"No." (I'd brought one with me.)
Luis fiddled with his phone. I fiddled with mine. Minutes passed. I said, "Look, this is ridiculous. Do you have a car for me or not? I never had to wait for a car before. And I know all that made me sound like a princess, but I'm hungry."
Luis said, "Why don't you just take the Mustang?"
I said, "Isn't that some kind of fancy sports car? The last thing I need is to drive a shift."
"No, no," Luis said. "It's fully automatic. It's just a little upgrade. For free."
"Okay," I said.
"What color you want?"
Was he kidding me? "Luis, I don't care."
I schlepped my bags out to the lot and there it was, a shiny, unbelievably flashy, cherry-red sports car. Mine. I started to laugh. Never in life have I driven such a thing. I drove it up to the checkout guy, squealing the brakes just a little.
"Man," the guy said, "the only thing better than a lovely young woman such as yourself driving a lovely car like this one is if you were going to take it to the beach."
"I AM going to take it to the beach," I said. "On Tuesday. I'm driving to the beach with my friend, and she's a nun."
"Nuns on the beach!" The man said.
I peeled out of the lot and wheedled my way through downtown Boston. The previous occupant of the car had left the radio set on the classical music channel, so I lowered the windows, cranked the volume, and blared Handel's Water Music so loud it made the windshield vibrate. And it was fine.
Luis, age approximately 25, hairstyle man bun, sat behind the Avis counter at Boston Logan airport. It was Sunday, late afternoon--yesterday, though it seems longer ago than that. I'd had four hours' sleep between the end of the pathetic Notre Dame/Stanford football game and getting up to drive to Midway airport, and I didn't use them well. Then I flew to Detroit, said goodbye to my darling daughter much faster than I'd planned (I'd already said goodbye to darling husband and darling son). Then, inexplicably, I forgot to eat lunch, so that by the time I landed in Boston, retrieved my luggage, navigated the complex overcrowded shuttle to the rental station and encountered Luis, I was in a crummy mood.
"We got you down for a mid-size," Luis said. "You want something bigger than that?"
I said,"No."
Luis said, "You wanna drive a Mustang?"
"No."
"You wanna drive an SUV?"
"No."
Luis sighed. "You WANNA drive a Toyota Corolla?"
"Look," I said. "I'm going to be driving in Boston. Last time I was driving here it didn't go well. I want something as small as possible." (Though the instant I said that, I realized I last drove in Boston thirty years ago, when I didn't have glasses, depth perception, a map, or a GPS. And I was driving a full-size van. So maybe things are different now.)
Luis got on the phone with someone and discussed cars for a few minutes. He said things like, "Nah, man, that's what she wants," and then he hung up and said to me, "They're trying to find you a Corolla. He's gonna call me back." Then he said, "You want the insurance coverage?"
"No."
"You want to prepay for gas?"
"No."
"You want to rent a GPS?"
"No." (I'd brought one with me.)
Luis fiddled with his phone. I fiddled with mine. Minutes passed. I said, "Look, this is ridiculous. Do you have a car for me or not? I never had to wait for a car before. And I know all that made me sound like a princess, but I'm hungry."
Luis said, "Why don't you just take the Mustang?"
I said, "Isn't that some kind of fancy sports car? The last thing I need is to drive a shift."
"No, no," Luis said. "It's fully automatic. It's just a little upgrade. For free."
"Okay," I said.
"What color you want?"
Was he kidding me? "Luis, I don't care."
I schlepped my bags out to the lot and there it was, a shiny, unbelievably flashy, cherry-red sports car. Mine. I started to laugh. Never in life have I driven such a thing. I drove it up to the checkout guy, squealing the brakes just a little.
"Man," the guy said, "the only thing better than a lovely young woman such as yourself driving a lovely car like this one is if you were going to take it to the beach."
"I AM going to take it to the beach," I said. "On Tuesday. I'm driving to the beach with my friend, and she's a nun."
"Nuns on the beach!" The man said.
I peeled out of the lot and wheedled my way through downtown Boston. The previous occupant of the car had left the radio set on the classical music channel, so I lowered the windows, cranked the volume, and blared Handel's Water Music so loud it made the windshield vibrate. And it was fine.
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