The Vacation from H-E Double Hockey Sticks

It was almost a year ago that my family went to Arizona. I fondly blogged about our experience there and eluded to another vacation that we had had once. We were going to Disney World with our three children. It was December 1994, the week between Christmas and New Year’s. We had an infant, a two year old, and a five year old. They were so cute and life was wonderful. We planned a wonderful trip to Disney World- a place where all things are wonderful.

I had, at the time, a 1973 Chevy Chevelle Malibu. That car could kick butt. It could leap tall buildings, it was impervious to bullets, it could have created world peace if only it had been given enough time. BUT, it was old and needed a paint job, and yada yada yada. We bought it from (this is not a joke) an old lady who had to sell it because she was going into a nursing home. It really was a great car that we had to get rid of because we ran out of car seats. We got a minivan when I got pregnant with number 4.

The plan was that my brother, who is an auto body guy, would paint the car while we were away. DH reserved a car at a rental place. We headed out for the place and he assured me that he had a general idea of where this place is. We drove up the road for about five miles, then down the road for about five miles, then up the road for another five minutes when DH admitted that he did not know where he was going, so we pulled off onto the side of the road to a payphone (this was before most people had cell phones), got the phone book out, called the place, and got exact directions. Of course, we were no where near the right place. Twenty minutes later we pulled into the parking lot of a used car dealership! They lied. It really did say that it was a rental car place in the phone book. Sooooo, my darling husband went in and to get a car and while he waited he overheard a salesman on the phone with the Greyhound bus station getting a ticket so that he could go get a rental car that had broken down in some other city! DH hightailed it out of there, well actually, he used their phonebook and phone to call a reputable rental car dealership.

So, off to the airport we went where the rental place was located. We enter the airport grounds and pass the signs "For short term parking –left turn here", "For long term parking left turn here", those sort of signs. We pass a sign that says “Rental Car Drop Off- Left Turn Here”, we knew that the rental car pick up had to be next. NO, IT WASN’T!! There was none, pick up was the last turn before your butt gets kicked to the curb. Well really to the exit booth. We approached the exit booth and told the attendant what happened and she told us to go back in and just before we reach the exit booth make a right turn. “That is the rental car pick up area” she smiled at us. Hmmmmm. Here is where you raise one eyebrow.

We reenter and pass all of the signs, just as we approach the drop off area we slow down, anticipating the pick up area- guess what? There is no %@$ right turn! So, back to the exit booth we went. This time when we approached the rental car drop off we pulled in there! We are such rebels. The attendant came quickly. I am guessing that he didn’t think the 1973 Chevy Chevelle Malibu tank we were driving was a rental. We explained why we were there and he replied, “Well hurry because this is the drop off area”. Ugh!

I know what you are thinking right now. You are wondering how you can trust me to be telling this story accurately. After all, it was 1994. Well, let me assure you, first of all I keep a journal of our vacations, remember? And secondly, I never promised that I would tell you the exact way that things went down. So There!! All that matters is how I remember them.