rental retards

I got into Dallas this afternoon and had to wait for 30 minutes to get my luggage, and then another 15 to get the shuttle bus to the rental cars because all of the buses that drove by were full. Annoying.

Then, I get to my car, which was a huge jeep (with 3 rows of seats). I was like fucking hell because I hate driving huge cars. I had to lift my 60 lb bag onto the back seat (I'm not a wimp but I hate doing shit like that while I'm smoking because I'm afraid I'll drop my cigarette - and, BTW, my bag was heavy because I had to bring a bunch of books, not because I overpacked).

I get to the checkout thing and the lady tells me I have the wrong car. I was like dude, it had my name hanging off the rearview, and it was in my stall. She said "no, you have to also check the license plate number". I was like I thought it was YOUR job to do that. Apparently not in Dallas. That has NEVER happened to me before.

So I back the monster up, take it back to my parking stall, and wander around for 5 minutes until I found my car. Which had a hertz employee sleeping in it. Which is why, I will assume, it was parked in the wrong place.

I woke the guy up, got my shit packed up again, and this time was able to leave the hertz parking garage. I then proceeded to get way lost because I was talking to my friend Trina who had just saved some guy's foot from being cut off, instead of reading my mapquest directions.

The good news about this little shit show of a trip is that I put a bottle of wine in my suitcase and, oddly, they don't sell wine here on Sunday. What the fuck is up with that? Oh yeah, I'm in Bush country.