BLUE SKIES, NOTHING BUT BLUE SKIES...

Sometimes traveling can discombobulate me.  Recently I spent five days in Southern California for a calligraphy conference. While there, I rented a car, a dark grey Honda Civic, at the airport. Hondas are common in California. I got to the car, opened the door with the clicker on the key fob, inserted the key, turned on the car, drove out of the lot thinking that I had checked all the boxes for renting a car, and paused to look at the beauty of the rugged San Gabriel Mountains in the distance. I drove to Cal Poly Pomona and parked my car and went to sign in for my classes.

At the end of the day, as the sun went down, I drove to a local shopping center and parked the car. As I walked towards Target, another Honda Civic drove by me and turned to park near my rental. I went into Target, made some purchases, had a quick dinner at a local eatery, went back to where I thought I had parked, opened the trunk of the Honda, put my bags and purse in the trunk, closed the lid, tried to open the driver's door with the clicker on the key fob. Nothing happened. I tried to open the trunk. Again nothing happened. I looked at the key fob in confusion and discovered that the license plate number on the fob didn't match the license plate on the car. It was too dark for me to see inside the car to verify that the Honda was my rental. I thought, "Wrong car. Could I really have put my purse and purchases into someone else's trunk?"

 I decided that I must have parked in a different lane or maybe I had opened the other Honda that looked just like my rental. But no, the other Honda parked in the same row also had a different license plate from the key fob. I recently read that Honda Civics are top of the list of stolen cars which made me wonder if my car had been stolen. So, whose Honda was this that now contained my purse and bags?

"A Small Bottle of Perrier" by M. Slavin

I walked around the parking lot trying to get a car to respond to the clicker on the fob. No response. I waited and waited by the car that wouldn't open, thinking that someone was shopping and would return so I could get my stuff out of the trunk. No luck. 

When I called the rental car office numbers, all I heard was a recorded voice giving me their office hours, which were long past closing. Finally getting a little desperate and cold, I called the police. They responded but couldn't do anything with the car. One of the officers walked over to Target to see if the car owner could be identified. No luck in the store. As the officer came back, I remembered that I had a bottle of water in the cupholder of my rental. I asked the officer to shine his flashlight into the car. Tucked into the cup holder was a bottle of Perrier, which made it obvious: this was my rental car. The officer used the key, not the clicker, on the key fob to open the driver's door. I groaned with relief, took a deep breath, and shook my head. The officer tried very hard not to laugh. In the end, I didn't get hurt, my car wasn't stolen, and the police were helpful. All of this occurred just because of a dead battery in the key fob and two license plate numbers that didn't match. 

It's okay to have a good laugh at this story. I did when it was over.

My sage advice coming from this travel tale:  when you rent a car, check that the license plate number matches the one on the key fob and that the key fob has a new battery. Otherwise, dark clouds could ruin your day.