Geri-A-Tricks

"Wow!  We made it!" I said, as we congratulated ourselves and thanked God as our plane landed after our trip to Georgia.  We had successfully maneuvered our way through the Atlanta airport, security, lightning-speed tram/trains and a longer-than-expected flight ("Headwinds," the attendant explained).

We picked up our luggage and glanced around.  I saw a sign that said something about a shuttle, but Howard said we would catch it outside.  The north wind hit us like a sharp knife when we emerged from the revolving airport door. I was glad for my leather coat, which was too much when we boarded in the milder temperatures of the south.  We bravely headed for the shuttle shelter across the traffic lane.

We approached one bus, but it was for hotel guests.  Then Howard motioned me to follow him to a Park and Ride shuttle.  The driver helped us on, then seeing the parking ticket we had, told us it was for the south parking lot.  Puzzled, we struck out to find our car.  The ticket said it was in 1244, but where was that?  The sea of cars seemed unfamiliar.  Finally we saw the numbers 11-12 at the end of a row of automobiles.

"Can you tell me where 1244 is?" my husband asked a man near a car.  He shook his head and said this was Thrifty Car Rental, and pointed us toward the distant end of the next lot.  Pulling our luggage and braving the icy winds, we wandered in and out the rows.  I yelled at Howard to try the key pad signal, but he yelled back that  he had been doing that.  He tried again, and we heard the welcome electronic beep!

He was calling something else from several feet behind me, and I realized with alarm that he was saying he lost the parking ticket!  "The wind must have blown it out of my hand!" he shouted. It was useless to search for it in this gale.  At the exit, he explained, but the attendant was adamant that it would cost $15 per day for a lost ticket, and we had been gone a week! We expected to pay only $6!  At our (my) strong protests and Howard's diplomacy, she agreed to check with her boss and left her booth to confer with someone in the booth on the other side of us.  

Reviewing our plane ticket receipts and recalculating the charges, she came up with $9 for each of the 8 days we had been gone (our departure was at 11:00 a.m., and it was now 5 p.m., costing an extra day).  Relieved, but still upset, I asked, "Why wouldn't they let us ride the shuttle?"

"Because that's for Park and Ride!  It's only six dollars!" she said. "You are in Long Term Parking!"  O-oh!  We thought that was where we had parked!  It had been a couple of years since we used the Wichita airport and we had parked in the wrong lot!

We arrived home safely at last, and I was able to laugh about it when I told my daughter over the phone, "We are not to be trusted!"  She agreed and said she worries about us.  All I could think of was, "Headwinds."