Me and stinky onion garbage

Gather 'round children, I want to tell you a story. A story of a journey. A broken journey...

We begin at the rental car counter at the sunny Portland, ME International Jetport. That's right, I said "Jetport". No propeller powered aircraft in Southern Maine, no sir. This isn't the 1946 post war USO show extravaganza staring Bob Hope and Miss Bim. No, this is 2007 mid war Wednesday... uh.. staring me and, well you.

Where were we? Ah, yes... the rental car counter. I had been thrifty last month and found a dog-gone-done-good rental car deal on that Captain Kirk cheap site. I was proud and in control. I had my confirmation number, I had my driver's license and my credit card... WITH an available balance. I tell you my friends, I was ROLLING. After presenting all I had to offer, the gruff Mainer behind the counter blurts out "a Ford Fusion or a Jeep Liberty?". This was perfect. My trip was to the remote mountains of New York State and a Jeep would be IDEAL for the snow covered locals that await. "Jeep Liberty, please." I said, quite patriotically. And just like that, I had set the wheels of the best ever rental car fit for my trip in motion .

Until...

"$15 extra per day will be charged to you credit card." The Mainer mumbled. Say what? SAY WHAT, SIR? Captain Kirk got me the best deal for my car. You can't ruin that now. I told Kirk my price. He accepted it. Captain Kirk said.... KIRK! KIIIIIIIIIRRRRK! The man just stared at me. Probably because all that was in my head and all I got out was "Um... no. No thanks".

As I shlepped my crap out into the biting Maine air, I slowly walked by my precious Liberty to my crummy Ford. It was red, which was cool. I guess. It drove alright and had a CD changer (More on that later), so I guess I was gonna be okay. Earlier I had a call from the friend I was to pick up in Boston on our way up to the Mountains. He would be at South Station at 4:25, so I would leave the land of ports around 2ish. I packed more crap into the Ford Fusion, which by name you'd think would have a flux capacitor, but it don't. Just a boring gray interior and an over-abundance of cup holders. I decided I'd stop for coffee and cash on the way, so I was off.

The Fusion was fast and I felt pretty good about driving it. I was over the Liberty. I was ready to sit back and take in the drive. I had burned some CDs for the trip and tried to pop one in. It don't go. Captain Kirk! It don't go! I pushed and poked it so hard, that I broke the CD clean in half. Great. I start wishing for the Liberty again. So, I started fiddling with the CDer thing... at 85mph.... and I see a button for "load". Ahhh... It's a CD changer. Sweet. I could load them all at once. See ya later, Jeep Liberty! Warp 27.8, Mr. Sulu!

Halfway to Boston, I stopped for my coffee and sweet cash from an ATM. At ATM, my jeans rang and the lady next to me looks immediately at my crotch. I pulled out the cell phone and gave lady a stern "Get your own man-crotch" look. On the phone was my friend. He had been delayed longer than he thought an was now arriving at 6:25. Super. I would be in Boston at 3:30. Now, I apologize for the next thing I'm about to say... I Fucking Hate Boston. I'm sorry Crespo, sorry everyone from Boston. I'm sure you are all lovely people, but your city rubs me the wrong way. From your messed up "T" system and it's miriad of tokens, cards and passes printed on crackers, to the dead end streets leading to nowhere. Don't even get me started on "Red Sox Nation". I'm a New York man, through and through and that's how it's gonna stay. So, needless to say, the idea of spending a long waiting period in Beantown sucks for me.

So I successfully navigated the "Big Dig" and parked at South Station. The parking lot is attached to the BUS terminal. You have to walk a mile, some outside, to get to the TRAIN terminal. At the trains, I just wanted to sit, get a coffee and do some work on the old laptop. I finally got a table, opened up the computer to a dead battery. I remembered shutting off the damn thing earlier so I'd have battery. SHIT! I quickly scanned the room for an outlet. The only one I saw was near the door, behind a trash can and next to an insane yelling man selling trips to Bermuda. That can't be the only outlet... I scanned more... DAMMIT.

Sighhhh....

So now, as I type, I'm sitting on marble floor, near a door to the frozen outside, smelling onions and rotting milk.



I sit, type and wait. Maybe the Bermuda man has something warm and Febreezey to say.