I got off the plane in Grand Rapids, Michigan, took my bag from the carousel, exited the terminal through the sliding doors, and headed past the shuttle stop toward the parking garage. So far everything had gone as smoothly as modern air travel can.
Then I got to the Enterprise car rental desk.
If you can’t rely on a confirmed reservation for a car, what are we even doing here?
The young man at the desk was friendly, although he offered some surprising news concerning the transportation I’d reserved just the night before.
“We don’t have a car for you.”
Futile Enterprise
I asked him why, exactly, mentioning the confirmation email I had on my phone. He told me that they simply didn’t have any more cars and that the system was messed up and that he was sorry for the inconvenience and that the soonest I might — key word being might — be able to get one would be 10 p.m. the following evening.
Not great.
I left, pulled up Google on my phone, and found another Enterprise location in another part of the city. I made a reservation for a few hours later and received another confirmation email. Just to be thorough, I then called up the branch to make sure they did indeed have a car for me.
They didn’t.
It was the same conversation as before, but this time the worker told me they wouldn’t have a car for two days. He apologized for the inconvenience, a word I have to admit I peevishly found inadequate for my current dilemma. But then, I had just flown from Milan to Chicago and Chicago to Grand Rapids — after 23 hours without sleep — and so was uncommonly eager to get to my final destination. Which, even should I procure a car, would entail a good four hour’s drive.
What’s the deal?
There is a “Seinfeld” bit about this. What’s the point of the reservation if you can’t fulfill the reservation?
Seinfeld, of course, does the bit very funny. But it’s not really so funny, or at least it’s not so funny when you are the one in the midst of trying to claim a car reservation that apparently can’t be filled. Renting a car to get to the airport hadn’t been a problem; why was it impossible now that I wanted to go home?
I sat there wondering what I should do.
I thought, do I stay the night in a hotel in the hope of getting my hands on a car the next day? No, I don’t want to waste the money. Do I call my wife and ask her to pile all three kids in the car, drive four hours down to pick me up, and then drive four hours back home again? Absolutely not. That would be hell for her, and she does more than enough.
I sat there rather irritated at the situation I found myself in. I have had my fair share of detours when on the road, sure. Sometimes travel plans change and you have to adapt. But if you can’t rely on a confirmed reservation for a car, what are we even doing here?
RELATED: I want to like our Kindle, but I’m hopelessly addicted to real books
Jim Heimann Collection/Getty Images
Let it ride
So I thought and thought, and I remembered that buses exist.
I hadn’t taken one in years, but it turned out they hadn’t gone the way of free checked bags and wearing actual pants on flights. Sure, it’s worse than a rental car, but it might get the job done. So I checked the schedule, found my route, and bought a non-refundable ticket for $54.
The bus to St. Ignace wasn’t terribly full Tuesday afternoon. There were only a few of us riding the great steel chariot north. Some old people, a couple of guys in worn jeans and construction boots, and a young guy — a college student — heading back to school at Michigan Tech in Houghton.
He brought a heavy backpack, a suitcase, and a set of golf clubs. He told me that after getting to St. Ignace, he would transfer to another bus that would take him west across the Upper Peninsula and up into the Keweenaw toward Houghton. He said the bus would arrive in Houghton at 6:30 a.m., making his trip north more than 16 hours long.
While detailing his epic journey, he said, “It’s OK, it builds character.”
I said, “Yes, it does.”
He said, “Plus, I don’t have any money.”
I said, “Neither did I,” remembering the days I used to ride the bus.
Just the ticket
Sitting there on that stiff and uncomfortable seat I recalled those many trips. Coming back from college and going back again. Taking the Megabus when I had no money in my 20s. They always advertised it as having fares as low as $1. For some reason, I never found those tickets.
I thought of riding the bus to Granada in Spain with my wife. We brought egg salad sandwiches wrapped in tin foil. I remembered taking an overnight bus from Eilat to Haifa in Israel. It was so long, but it was so cheap, and I was too.
Our bus finally pulled into the Walmart parking lot — the makeshift bus stop in our little town — at 8:41 p.m. Tuesday night. My wife and kids were there waiting for me in our gray Honda. The kids were wearing their pajamas and all ready for bed. The failure of the rental car companies to do their job was annoying. The bus ride wasn’t terribly comfortable. The final leg of my trip home took longer than I had anticipated. But I didn’t really care once I stepped off the bus and into the Walmart parking lot.
I made it home, and it’s a funny little story (maybe “Seinfeld” had the right idea), and what’s life without those?
Lifestyle, Travel, Men’s style, Family, Rental cars, Buses, Michigan, The root of the matter
