As part of the job, we sportswriters travel to interesting places to cover major events in packed stadiums and arenas. Ah, the glamorous life we lead.
That is until you find yourself with a rental car that is out of gas on busy International Drive in Orlando, Florida, on New Year’s night.
Let me explain. Better still, let me start this comedy of errors from the beginning, when I booked an American Airlines flight from Lexington to Gainesville, Florida, to cover Kentucky’s football game in the Citrus Bowl in Orlando on Jan. 1.
First, my flight last Thursday, scheduled for a 2:46 p.m. departure, was delayed by two hours. When we finally began boarding the plane, I asked the gate agent if I would make my 6:05 p.m. connecting flight in Charlotte. “You’ll make it,” he said.
I didn’t. We landed and taxied to Gate E8. A good sign since my connecting flight was to depart from Gate E9. Unfortunately, Gate E9 was two more hallways away. After hustling to my connecting gate, I saw the screen showing the two words you do not want to see in an airport: “FLIGHT CLOSED.”
By this time, American had sent a text saying it had rescheduled me for a 9:01 flight. Not 9:01 p.m. Thursday, however, but 9:01 a.m. Friday. There were no more flights to Gainesville that night. So I had to (a) find a hotel in Charlotte, (b) reschedule my rental car in Gainesville and (c) cancel my Thursday night room in Orlando. Those three turned out to be the least of my worries.
After staying in a Charlotte hotel Thursday night, I reached Gainesville on time Friday, picked up my rental car and made the two-hour drive to Orlando. I parked at the Rosen Plaza Hotel shortly after 1:30 p.m. I would stay in that hotel on Friday and return to Gainesville on Saturday night for my early-morning flight Sunday.
Saturday morning, I checked out of the hotel, put my suitcase in my rental car and hopped on the hotel shuttle for Camping World Stadium. There, I helped cover a terrific bowl game with Kentucky rallying to beat Iowa 20-17. When my work was completed, I returned to the Rosen Plaza parking lot to get my rental car for the drive back to Gainesville.
The real trouble begins
One problem. The rental car wouldn’t start. Over and over I tried. The engine acted like it wanted to start, only to quickly die. I noticed that the low fuel light was illuminated on the dashboard. That’s strange, I thought. I had plenty of gas left when I arrived on Friday. Had someone siphoned gas from my car? Was it leaking gas? Was there some sort of other mechanical problem?
I called the rental car company. It said it would have someone bring me gas, but it would take about an hour. So I waited. Meanwhile, I called me wife back in Lexington. I told her the odd thing was that when I tried to get out of the car, a buzzer rang, with the dashboard telling me the car was on. That couldn’t be. How could the car be on when it wouldn’t start?
Finally, we figured out the problem: I am an idiot.
You had to push a button to turn the car on. But you also had to push the button to turn it off. When I parked on Friday, I had failed to turn the car off. It had sat running in the parking lot from 1:30 p.m. Friday until it had run completely out of gas.
Meanwhile, the car rental company’s third-party roadside assistance person never showed. I called the number provided. Voice mail. I waited a couple of minutes and called again. Voice mail. I called the rental car company. The woman there said they had been trying to call him, as well, with the same result.
What was I going to do? There was not a gas station in sight and I had to get to Gainesville for a 6:30 flight on Sunday morning.
Finally, I called an Uber. When my driver, Julio, arrived, I explained the situation. I said I needed to find a gas station, buy a gas can, fill it up and return to the hotel. Being a saint, Julio said no problem. By now it was 10 p.m. We found a Mobil station. I purchased a 1-gallon container, filled it and Julio returned me to the Rosen Plaza. I thanked him profusely and headed back to my car.
Another problem. You needed an engineering degree to know how to unlock the spout on the container to release the gas. I do not have an engineering degree. In the dimly-lit parking lot, I finally was able to get a half-gallon of gas into the car. That was enough to get it started. Hallelujah! I made it back to the Mobil station and filled up the tank. At about 10:40 p.m., I left Orlando.
The final straw
I arrived at my Gainesville hotel at 12:35 a.m. and got to sleep around 1. After waking to my 4:45 a.m. alarm, I took a quick shower, then drove 20 minutes to the airport, where I arrived about 5:40 a.m. I had no idea what to do with the gas container, so I left it in the rental car.
Meanwhile, at the gate inside the airport, we were informed that because of expected turbulence, beverage service would not be provided on the flight. So I purchased a bottle of green iced tea and slipped it into the side pocket of my backpack.
I made my connecting flight to Lexington. Once on board, I remembered I hadn’t eaten supper the night before, but I did have a protein bar in my backpack. I fished it out, then reached for the bottle of green tea in the side pocket. It wasn’t there. Of course, it wasn’t there. It was probably still rolling around on the floor of my previous flight.
Let’s just say that when my plane touched down at Blue Grass Field at 10:17 Sunday morning, and this idiot saw my wife’s smiling face there to pick me up, I was very happy to be home, sweet home.