NOT-WHITE NISSAN SENTRA

While on my recent jaunt to North Carolina, I have the opportunity to rent a car from the airport for the very first time.  I've rented cars plenty of times at the car rental places, but, since I've never flown until now, I've never had reason to rent a car from the airport.

I make great plans ahead of time to rent a car from a company familiar to me, and I do this through the AAA website.  Everything goes along swimmingly until the car choice keeps reverting to a sub-compact.  No, I want a car about the size of a Corolla, something similar to the size I drive anyway.  When I change the car specs, the AAA site bumps me to a different rental company, which I do not notice until it is already booked.

This is the first mistake.

The line at the airport car rental counter is not that long.  Judging from the negative online reviews, I expected an hour's wait or more.  The wait is more like ten minutes.  When it's our turn at the counter, the woman says, "Okay, we've got you in a Chevy Spark!"

This is the second mistake.

The conversation inside of my head goes something like this:

ME:  "A Chevy Spark?  Do I look like a fucking tree-hugger?  I'm an old woman, for chrissakes.  I can't fold up like that anymore.  Give me a REAL damn car, for crimeny's sake."

The real conversation goes more like this:

ME:  "Spark?  Uh.  No.  That won't do."

FRIEND:  "It's okay.  I don't mind a Spark."

ME:  "I do.  It's too small, and I didn't reserve a sub-compact.  I should've gone with Enterprise."

The moment the word "Enterprise" leaves my lips, the competing company offers to put me in a bigger car for the same price.  She also tries to charge me $30 additional daily for insurance.  I tell her I purchased insurance through AAA, and she claims that doesn't count.  I politely but firmly instruct her to BITE ME.  After some finagling, the agent hands me a key and says, "Okay, you have a white Nissan Sentra.  The windows are down.  You can't miss it."

This is the third mistake.

My friend and I wander out to the garage, clutching the key to a white Nissan Sentra, only there aren't any white Nissan Sentras in the damn garage.  There are some white cars that are not  Nissans, and there are several silver cars, including a silver Nissan Sentra, but nothing matches the description.  I start smashing my finger into the clicker, and lights flash on the silver Sentra.  We use the remote to pop the trunk.

Oh, well.  It's not white, but the keys work.  I guess we're driving this puppy for the weekend.

As soon as we get to the hotel, I park as far away from others as possible.  After we check in and find our room, we head back to the car only to discover that a big-ass Jeep has parked next to us, and its door has swung open in the wind and hit the Sentra.  It leaves a little ding, but we pretend we don't see it, and, after touching it a few times, it's really not that noticeable.

Later we meet a gentleman in the parking lot while he is walking his dogs. After a brief chat, we ask him, "What color is that car over there?"

"Silver," he responds without skipping a beat.

Hmmmmmm.  "Just checking," we say, "because the agent told us it's white."  This is good to know because we are starting to think that maybe in North Carolina people have some color blindness issues (not that it's a bad thing -- we're just saying).

Surprisingly for us, there are only a few other interesting encounters, like the guy driving the big-ass truck who gets mad because we pull out in front of him when he is five hundred yards away then proceeds to make sure he cuts us off and prevents us from taking the ramp to the highway and the airport beyond.

All is fine until we arrive at the airport.  Somehow I miss Car Rental Road, and we have to go around.  Then, I go the wrong way and end up on another highway, which is fine except our cell phones lose the GPS signal, and we have to wing it.  We make it back to the airport and I find the rental garage on the second pass.  I am afraid to pull into the lot, though, as there are spikes in the ground.  My friend assures me that I can drive over them.

ME:  "I'm gonna pop the damn tires!"

FRIEND:  "No, really.  Drive over them.  They're facing the other way."

ME:  (In my mind, spikes are spikes, regardless of which direction they're facing.)  "I'm AFRAID!"

FRIEND:  (laughing) "Haven't you ever returned a car to the airport?!"

She knows I have not.  This is my first-ever plane trip, and it's the first time since the invention of the TSA that I've gotten near a gate or anything beyond, including the car rental company.  She is training me well, though, for my subsequent airport experiences.  I will know next time that car rental spikes are only meant to deter theft, not cause undue agida to poor old me (although this is a bonus, I suppose, for bystanders).

With all the strikes against me and the silver (not white) Sentra, it is a relief to hand the keys back over to the rental agent and get on a plane.  After all, now that I'm a seasoned flier (heading into my second trip...), these things don't bother me anymore.