Saturday, August 18, 2007

My Journey to the Center of the Earth and Back –or– How the Hell Did I End Up in Hoboken

Yesterday I took the day off work to move furniture from Kevondrala’s apartment to mine. As he is moving into a new apartment, I am purchasing all of his furniture as I need some drawer space and I needed to get my kitchen table back in the kitchen, rather than have it as a TV stand.

The move went off without a hitch. I got the truck from Budget, drove that big ass thing over to Kevondrala’s, we loaded it up and headed to Queens. Once there we ran into SD who assisted and we had all that crap up the stairs by 4:30, well ahead of schedule. Broke down, physically hurting, and covered in filth, I was pleased with a day’s work.

I went to drop Kevondrala off and then back to 35th Street to turn in the truck. Well I am here to tell you that Budget exists in some timewarp where they have no technology to process their incoming cars after business hours. The fat little security guard, who could probably not secure his fucking belt buckle much less a truck lot, refused to take the truck back because I did not have my contract with me. I had left it at the house. Unlike any other vehicle rental place on Planet Earth, Budget does not have a handheld computerized intake system, so, resisting the urge to get back in the truck and run him over repeatedly in Kathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes style, I figured I’d head back to Queens and return it in the morning.

Well no one told me that once you get to 40th Street on 11th Avenue, all lanes become right-turn only lanes, and there is no escape at that point from entering the Lincoln Tunnel. The next thing I know I’m under the river and coming out in Hoboken, New Jersey. I figured my way back around and headed back through the tunnel in traffic like I have never seen, complete with crazy Jersey drivers, and thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown at the edging along speed of an endless sea of cars. Soaked in sweat and increasingly disgusting, I finally I made it back to Queens, where I parked the car and peed all over the side of the deli on 23rd Street because I had been holding it since I had started driving over eight-hundred hours earlier.

I worried that the street that I parked on would make me a target for graffiti, as a 10 foot truck like that is already a target for graffiti because these toys want to slap their tags on there and then have it driven all over. And I was absolutely right, I discovered this morning, that someone graphitized the side of the truck. If it had been something incredible it wouldn’t have bothered me as much as the fact that it was lame did.

I made my way back to Budget, and the intaker didn’t even mention the graffiti, thank God, but I hope there’s not something on my credit card later in life charging me too much money for that shit. I didn’t mention the previous night’s return incident, because my boyfriend who works behind the counter was ridiculously cute and sweet. I also didn’t raise hell about a “late fee” because he didn’t charge me for not refueling, even though they only started me out with 3/4 of a tank with a policy of “return full or pay $25”. Bitches.

So anyway, while I love the little counter dude and want to give it all up for him, I encourage everyone to join me in a boycott of Budget Truck Rental with the ultimate goal of running their shitty, crooked company out of business. I am going to write a letter and CC the manager, the district manager, the board of directors, the Better Business Bureau, the City Council, Mayor Bloomberg, all the presidential candidates, and the United Nations on this!!

1 comment:

S.D.A. said...

I'm powering up the DEATH STAR, and after I've taken out New York Sports Club, you're more than welcome to give BUDGET Rent-A-Car a Blast!