OK, maybe not ever. But a pretty bad one.
As I write this it’s 3:39 am in Hermosa Beach, California. I just got here.
Had an 8:50 pm flight from JFK to LAX. Got there in plenty of time. Then the flight was delayed. And delayed. And delayed. Three of the five bathrooms on the plane weren’t functioning. Word was American Airlines was going to cancel the flight. Then … a bright light. 11 pm-ish—the plane can operate. Everyone rushes on … and we sit. And sit. And sit.
Finally take off. Arrive in Los Angeles at, oh, 2:30. Have a reservation with Alamo. Wait for the shuttle bus. Hertz comes three times, Avis twice, Budget—Budget!?—twice. Alamo doesn’t come. Doesn’t come. Doesn’t come. I call the 800 number—they disconnect me. Forty-five minutes later, the van finally arrives. I get to the Alamo office. The people working there don’t have time to talk to me—they’re debating what to order for breakfast. They finally take me, but give me bad directions. I drive and drive, get here, at my hotel. The parking lot is full, so I drive around and around. Finally make myself a spot. The woman at the front desk tells me she marked me as a no-show.
Fuck.
But she has a room.
Good night …
