We landed and when the bell rang I went to jump up and had forgotten to unhook my seatbelt. I fell over the guy seated next to me, causing him to spill his bottle of water down the front of his pants. By now I’ve said “I’m so sorry” to so many people that I’m starting to question my sanity.
Took a train to Baggage Claim. You heard that right. A TRAIN. One baggage claim area for the entirety of Denver Airport.
Walked a hundred miles to Carousel 1. Ten minutes later an announcement came on saying our baggage was now at Carousel 9… ALL THE WAY AT THE OTHER END OF THE FUCKING TERMINAL.
Took the bus to car rental. I had prepaid so they sent me an email with the parking lot number so that I could bypass the desk and just drive away. Slot 614.
I get to the exit gate for Hertz and the attendant tells me that I have the wrong car. I had gotten into the car for Slot 612. So I had to go all the way back, unload the old car and load into the new car.
By this time all of the Hertz agents have gone to lunch so there’s only one exit booth open and 30 cars waiting to get out.
I get on the highway to Boulder and it says “Toll Road.” I’m driving, scrambling for money (how much? They don’t tell you), trying not to drive off the road. I keep seeing signs for “toll 35 cents” and “toll $1.20” And guess what? THERE ARE NO TOLL BOOTHS. The bastards are just screwing with your head to make sure you’re paying attention.
Once I got over the feeling that maybe the signs were taking me to my own personal version of “Deliverance,” I finally made it to Boulder.
