Somewhere along the lines a rumor was started. I'm not sure exactly when or how, but certainly there was some fun to be had.
Having spent four days in New York City, my Australian friends and I were about to embark on the second leg of our journey. Per their request, our next destination was Niagara Falls.
In what would become a great feat of coordination, all of our connecting flights, rental vehicle, and hotel rooms were booked months in advance. For those two weeks in July, I would be traveling with my wife Ashley, and our Australian friends Andrew and Belinda, plus their two boys Lachlan and Mitchell, aged 14 and 12, respectively. We were headed down the East Coast during peak tourist season. The last thing I could fathom was being stranded somewhere.
Confirmation papers in hand, I breathed a tad easier when the airline kiosk recognized our party and spat out our boarding passes. So it was, early on the Tuesday morning following Independence Day. I had booked us a 6:50 a.m. flight from Manhattan to Buffalo, New York. Upon arriving in Buffalo in time for breakfast, we would pick up our rental car. Assuming everything went correctly, we could tour Niagara Falls during the day and check into our hotel for a relaxing evening.
The rental car was as integral a part of this itinerary as the airline flights. With four adults, two children, plus luggage, it was obvious that a full-sized SUV was in order, so that we could all travel together and in comfort as we made our way down the East Coast. The rental car we were to pick up in Buffalo was to take us as far south as Norfolk, Va..
And this is where rumor and speculation reared its ugly head.
Poor Mitchell. Poor young, gullible, and easily influenced Mitchell. The impressionable 12-year-old had gotten it into his head that we were not renting a full-size SUV for this leg of the trip, which was quite a shame, really. Gargantuan people-movers like Tahoes, Yukons, and Suburbans are not mainstream vehicles in Australia. In the eyes of a young Aussie like Mitch, shiny black SUVs are something from the movies. They are featured in fantastic car chase scenes where the VIP hero is eluding bad guys. Why, they are what the President's bodyguards drive around in.
Over in America, everyone owns either a giant SUV or a ridiculously oversized pickup truck - or both. What better way to tour America than in an SUV - the very symbol of her bounty and freedom? Of course we should tour America in an SUV - how cool would that be?
At least, this was Mitchell's logic. Inexplicably, I'm not sure when or how, Mitchell had convinced himself that we would be traveling in a minivan, pulling a U-haul trailer for our luggage. Remember, Mitchell is only 12 years old. Mitchell certainly believes that people are defined by what kind of car they drive. All that matters for the sake of this story is that in Mitchell's eyes, minivans are the antithesis of cool.
Of course, I did nothing to correct his misjudgment. Whenever he would look up and ask, in his Aussie brogue, "Dan, are we really riding in a minivan?" Which was about every five minutes, I would respond with something like, "How else do you expect us all to get to Virginia?"
With that setup, picture us all filing into the car rental facility at 8:30 in the morning in Buffalo. Keep in mind we had all just flown in from New York City, and had all been awake for over four hours. Confirmation papers in hand, I approached the counter. Behind me, the rest of the party was shuffling luggage and finding a respective seat on the line of chairs. Above the scrapes and groans, I leaned over to the kindly middle-aged lady and whispered, "The youngest one thinks we are about to pick up a minivan and is appalled. Please, just go with me on this."
Then, in a comfortable but louder tone of voice I added, "Good morning, I'm here to pick up my rental." Literally, she caught the ball and ran with it.
Avis: Fingers flying over the keyboard she remarked, "Oh, you must be Mr. Wegmueller. Yes, there you are - here to pick up that minivan?"
In my peripheral vision I noticed Mitchell's head jerk up, as he suddenly listened in on our conversation. I added, "That's right. It was supposed to come with a U-haul trailer for our things."
Avis, not missing a beat: "It's all hooked up and ready to go." Then, with a look of concern that could have been genuine she looked over my shoulder and, I swear, said this: "I see there are six of you traveling. There won't quite be enough seats for all of you, so maybe the little one (she gestured toward Mitchell) would be willing to be strapped to the roof rack? We do have bungee-straps available for an extra charge."
The exchange was so perfect I had to bite my tongue to keep from giving it away. Throughout the dialogue I signed the paperwork and grabbed the keys. I had to look twice to verify it was for a full-size GMC Yukon. I politely declined the bungee straps but added, "Does it come with a stick figure family?"
With an absolute straight face the Avis lady offered, "I'm sorry - stick figure families cost extra."
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
Having spent four days in New York City, my Australian friends and I were about to embark on the second leg of our journey. Per their request, our next destination was Niagara Falls.
In what would become a great feat of coordination, all of our connecting flights, rental vehicle, and hotel rooms were booked months in advance. For those two weeks in July, I would be traveling with my wife Ashley, and our Australian friends Andrew and Belinda, plus their two boys Lachlan and Mitchell, aged 14 and 12, respectively. We were headed down the East Coast during peak tourist season. The last thing I could fathom was being stranded somewhere.
Confirmation papers in hand, I breathed a tad easier when the airline kiosk recognized our party and spat out our boarding passes. So it was, early on the Tuesday morning following Independence Day. I had booked us a 6:50 a.m. flight from Manhattan to Buffalo, New York. Upon arriving in Buffalo in time for breakfast, we would pick up our rental car. Assuming everything went correctly, we could tour Niagara Falls during the day and check into our hotel for a relaxing evening.
The rental car was as integral a part of this itinerary as the airline flights. With four adults, two children, plus luggage, it was obvious that a full-sized SUV was in order, so that we could all travel together and in comfort as we made our way down the East Coast. The rental car we were to pick up in Buffalo was to take us as far south as Norfolk, Va..
And this is where rumor and speculation reared its ugly head.
Poor Mitchell. Poor young, gullible, and easily influenced Mitchell. The impressionable 12-year-old had gotten it into his head that we were not renting a full-size SUV for this leg of the trip, which was quite a shame, really. Gargantuan people-movers like Tahoes, Yukons, and Suburbans are not mainstream vehicles in Australia. In the eyes of a young Aussie like Mitch, shiny black SUVs are something from the movies. They are featured in fantastic car chase scenes where the VIP hero is eluding bad guys. Why, they are what the President's bodyguards drive around in.
Over in America, everyone owns either a giant SUV or a ridiculously oversized pickup truck - or both. What better way to tour America than in an SUV - the very symbol of her bounty and freedom? Of course we should tour America in an SUV - how cool would that be?
At least, this was Mitchell's logic. Inexplicably, I'm not sure when or how, Mitchell had convinced himself that we would be traveling in a minivan, pulling a U-haul trailer for our luggage. Remember, Mitchell is only 12 years old. Mitchell certainly believes that people are defined by what kind of car they drive. All that matters for the sake of this story is that in Mitchell's eyes, minivans are the antithesis of cool.
Of course, I did nothing to correct his misjudgment. Whenever he would look up and ask, in his Aussie brogue, "Dan, are we really riding in a minivan?" Which was about every five minutes, I would respond with something like, "How else do you expect us all to get to Virginia?"
With that setup, picture us all filing into the car rental facility at 8:30 in the morning in Buffalo. Keep in mind we had all just flown in from New York City, and had all been awake for over four hours. Confirmation papers in hand, I approached the counter. Behind me, the rest of the party was shuffling luggage and finding a respective seat on the line of chairs. Above the scrapes and groans, I leaned over to the kindly middle-aged lady and whispered, "The youngest one thinks we are about to pick up a minivan and is appalled. Please, just go with me on this."
Then, in a comfortable but louder tone of voice I added, "Good morning, I'm here to pick up my rental." Literally, she caught the ball and ran with it.
Avis: Fingers flying over the keyboard she remarked, "Oh, you must be Mr. Wegmueller. Yes, there you are - here to pick up that minivan?"
In my peripheral vision I noticed Mitchell's head jerk up, as he suddenly listened in on our conversation. I added, "That's right. It was supposed to come with a U-haul trailer for our things."
Avis, not missing a beat: "It's all hooked up and ready to go." Then, with a look of concern that could have been genuine she looked over my shoulder and, I swear, said this: "I see there are six of you traveling. There won't quite be enough seats for all of you, so maybe the little one (she gestured toward Mitchell) would be willing to be strapped to the roof rack? We do have bungee-straps available for an extra charge."
The exchange was so perfect I had to bite my tongue to keep from giving it away. Throughout the dialogue I signed the paperwork and grabbed the keys. I had to look twice to verify it was for a full-size GMC Yukon. I politely declined the bungee straps but added, "Does it come with a stick figure family?"
With an absolute straight face the Avis lady offered, "I'm sorry - stick figure families cost extra."
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
