I’m not a fan of driving. When allowed to relinquish the reins to a competent driver, I nearly always defer. I’d rather enjoy the ride.
But sometimes you have to drive yourself. Tonight, I drove myself crazy.
After enjoying a nonstop flight to Chicago, in which the plane was only half-full (or half-empty, depending on your POV) and, I think, challenging the guy next time to a new game I like to call “Who Can Bob His Head More Coolly To His Music While Wearing Headphones” (I won), I got off the flight to take the longest walk I’ve ever made to retrieve my baggage. Fortunately, and for the first and most likely last time of my life, my bag was first off the plane.
I grabbed my rental car. I brazenly declined insurance. I wholeheartedly refused the GPS. I had, after all, an iPhone in my possession. It would not lead me astray.
My first turn out of the airport was the wrong way. With planes zooming into land inches from my head, driving back and forth into the sun, trying to figure out the car’s transmission, and staring at the small iPhone screen, it’s a wonder I didn’t smack the many, many buses around. As a Texan, I’m used to open roads, not cramped lanes. Getting from the airport to the first major highway proved difficult enough. I’ve never seen so many people out on the street. Granted, it was a very nice day, and I probably would have been outside too, but I had places to be.
Eventually I made it onto I-90, the interstate that would lead me to my destination. Except that I missed my exit, and the next exit was 10 miles farther down the road. And then I couldn’t quite make it back to the interstate. And did I mention this was a tollway? At this point (still 10 miles past my destination), I had to eat, and Arby’s answered the call.
I got back on the tollway, retracing the route I’d just taken, and took the correct exit for my hotel. Just one last tollbooth to pass through. One unmanned tollbooth. Where there were a line of cars. Immobile cars. For what seemed like an eternity.
I almost thought an apocalyptic movie was starting to happen as people got out of their cars, wandered to cars in front of them, then wandered back to their cars. I might have seen Will Smith. I have no idea what was wrong; I have to think the machines weren’t being nice. Overworked maybe? Regardless, I eventually got through. Only to take another wrong turn.
After U-turn #34, I was less than 2 miles from my hotel. Then I tried to turn onto an unfinished road. As in a road that was not meant to be driven upon. Once I realized my error (and I was so close to the hotel), I continued on that “road,” while remembering two things: It’s a rental! and I didn’t get the insurance!
Finally, I was on the road that was supposed to lead me home. And I missed the last turn. Seriously. After righting that wrong, I was never so happy to see a hotel sign.
Apparently my debacle merited some kind of providential remuneration. The hotel offered me a “spa room” at the same price as my conference discount. I’m not entirely sure what that means in the grand scheme of things, aside from the fact that there’s a large bath right next to my bed.
And this is how the Innovate Conference begins for me. Although technically it doesn’t begin until tomorrow, and I can’t really hold them responsible for my idiocy. Steve Jobs, on the other hand, better get turn-by-turn navigation on the iPhone soon, or I’ll probably be flying out of Dulles later this week.
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