Worst Vacation Attempt Ever

This is old news now - but the shear volume of typing necessary to tell this story has scared us from the blog entirely.
But now, the story shall be told (on the blog. It's had more than its share of being passed down in the oral record.)

Memorial Day Weekend: Needing a vacation, I took the whole week off. But we also decided decided it would be a good time for a long weekend road trip to Missourri to see my brother, sister in law and the adroable sack of cutness that is our niece, Morgynn. So Amy got friday off, I carved another half-day off out of my Friday afternoon, and we were on the road by 2:00pm Friday.

It was a hot day, but otherwise a good drive. Until we approached Terra Haute. That's when Amy's overheating light popped up on the dashboard. So... off to the side of the road. Pop the hood. Everything look OK. No plumes of milky steam. A higher level of coolant than maybe there should be on a hot engine. Probably just too much AC on too hot a day with a car that isn't used to it. No problem. Wait a few more minutes. Get back on the highway. And pull over again half a mile later. Repeat the primitive diagnostics scan. Everything still in order. A longer intermission. One more time back on the road. And Overheating light and check engine light within a mile (and less than 2 miles from the Terre Haute exit).

Sidenote: we have resisted getting a cell phone for years. Amy dislikes the idea of anyone being able to reach her anytime, anyplace, and I just don't talk enough to justify the expense. By a stroke of syncronicity, I had purchased our first cell phone three days earlier. Thank God.

So, new cell phone in hand (and fully charged, because i also decided to by a car recharge unit), we called for a tow-truck. The freindly/surly tow man took us to a nearby place off the next exit, with food and lodging nearby. The repair shop would be open first thing in the morning, and took business on a first come first serve basis. He also suggested that, hungry though we were,we'd be wise to get our hotel first, because, although there were a number of hotels visible within a mile, it was getting lat, it was Memorial Day weekend, and, most dooming, we were an hour from Indianapolis - which, Memorial Day weekend, means the Indy 500. Which meant rooms would be unusually scarce.

We didn't have to look long, but that may have been luck of the draw. We got the last nonsmoking room of the first two hotels (side by side, owned by the came chain) we checked. There was only one other smoking room. Which, sadly, might have gone to the woman and her three pre-teeners who came in just after us, also with car in tow.

A good, late dinner and up early the next morning. But not early enough. We arrived at 7:40, ten minutes after opening, and they already had all three garage stalls open and working, and a few cars waiting to get in. they had us in by 9:00, and by 10 were able to deliver the news. the news being of the not good variety.

It wasn't anything as simple as a shorte fuse or temperture gauge misread. It was probably the water pump. But they weren't sure, didn't have the part anyway, and were already booked for the day even if they could get the part. Which they couldn't. But they were willing to check around for someplace that might be able to help. And found one. Nearby. Close enough that we could drive to it without any car trouble.

It was maybe 2-3 miles away. Halfway there, the check engine and overheat lights popped back on, beeping shrilly for the remainder of the very long-feeling short drive. But we made it. The mechanic, another freindly/surly sort, said of course they couldn't fix it at the other place, they were all idiots over there, and went to have a look.

Rex returned within half an hour asking us if we had any plans for the day, because we might want to consider doing some car shopping. By their diagnostic scans, the problem was engine related. A cracked cylinder. Which wasn't supplying adequate power to the water pump, which is why it wasn't working (if this sounds like mechanical hogwashery, chalk it up to my mistranslation and inaccurate memory. I was also getting counsel from my stepfather--also named Rex, but we'll call him by the less personal 'stepfather' to avoid confusion--via the wonders of the newly purchased cell phone. He concurred it was unlikey, but possible, and the method for checking it was right).

So, that's an engine repair/replace. On a 2000 Volkswagon Bug. In a town with no volkswagon dealership. On a weekend. And a busy holiday weekend at that. And this sort of repair was out of Rex's comfort zone. His experience on Bugs just didn't run that deep. And it'd be 2 grand. At the very least.

No dealership. No available parts. No experienced Volkwagon mechanic available. No time. No luck.

And no idea what to do next.

Rex's shop was open through and including Memorial Day. He offered to let us store the vehicle there, until Tuesday rolled around and it could be dealt with. And that was all well and good. But we were still stuck in Terre Haute. and almost certain not to find lodging one night closer to the Indy 500. And Amy had to work Tuesday. So we couldn't wait around even if it were an option. And the thought of having to coordinate with an unknown mechanic 4 hours from home and drive back to pick up the car later wasn't settling too well either.

Fortunately, stepfather has a car-hauler. Unfortuneately, stepfather also live in Durand, Mi, 7 hours from Terre Haute, and surely had plans of his own for Memorial Day weekend. But it seemed the least unpleasant of the few options we had. So I calledmom to ask her, um, if this was the sort of favor I should even ask, or if this would be kind of an abuse of the convenience of his having married into the family not even three years ago. She put him on the phone before I could gauge the appropriateness. And I explained the situation (what I hadn't explained already on previous calls) really hoping he might feel terrible for us and offer to pick it up on his own. He did feel terrible for us. That was clear. But the offer didn't come up. so back to my mom, and, hesitantly, expaining the akwardness of what I was thinking before being put on the spot. So she discussed and said they could, could we at least pay for their gas. Which would be at least $200. My response: Heck, yeah. And dinner and a hotel if you want it.

Either thinking of my own financial well being or wanting to exhaust one last option so he didn't have to take 14 hours out of his weekend (wouldn't blame him), stepfather suggested that it might actually be cheaper to find someone to tow it straight from Terre Haute to South Bend. So, with Rex's help, I called aorund, found a place willing and able to tow it, and then we got to the cost. Roughly $900. Soooo stepfather and mom would be driving down to pick up the car in the next couple days.

Now, with all that taken care of, we turned to moving ourselves along. decided we'd shell out for the rental car and continue out trip. But guess what. Rental car places, all of them, are closed for the weekend by Saturday noon. And it was now 1:00. We even tried calling the (still open) Enterprise at the Indy airport to see how far that "we'll pick you up." slogan carried. Not as far as Terre Haute.

So, since clearly getting ANYWHERE would be a challenge, we shifted gears towards just getting home. And asked if there was a bus station nearby. And there was. 3-5 miles away. And a very nice woman watching our melodrama playing out before her offered to drive us there when her car got done in a couple hours. And Rex, also with a front row seat to the whole production, said, "Hell, Wilma, you can take 'em in my truck right now," and tossed her his keys.

So, at the Greyhound station, we baught our tickets back to South Bend. South Bend to Indy, a two hour break, switch busses to Chicago, a half hour break, and switch busses to South Bend, arriving 2:50 am, local time. At least we'd be home.
I think we got the last two seats to Indy (for the buss we took. We could have chosen to wait for a slightly later buss to Inday, but decided, if we were going to have to kill 2 hours, we'd rather do it in Indy). And our time in Indy wasn't bad. Would have been nice if it had been the plan. Got some food, browsed a bookstore, and back to the bus station.

And the bus pulled in. The busdriver and some passengers got off. And...nothing. Being familiar with boarding commuter trains and more standard passenger trains, and figuring this should be similar, I said to myself: "Seating will be first come first serve. I'd rather spend the trip to chicago with my wife than a stranger, so we'd best get on now. I would expect this to be more like a standard passenger train, where people line up and get there tickets checked while they board. but there is no line. and the bus door is wide open. So it must be more like a commuter train and they get your ticket once you are on. And if not, its their own damn fault for leaving the bus door wide open and unattended or not clearly designating what the procedure is."

So I urged Amy to get on the bus. Who still had more patience than me and a greater concern about following rules even if they are not clear. So she asked someone on the bus "do they check our tickets when we are all onme, or are we supposed to show someone before we get on." and of course, the asnwere was "before we get on".

This really pissed me off. Because I was tired and impatient and what the fuck were they going to do, kick us off because no one was there to check our ticket before getting we got on? But now, at amy's insistance, we had to disembark and stand around and wait. And while we were standing around waiting for someone to come to the buss to take out ticket so we could legitimently get on the buss, a whole crowd of people clustered at the doorway inside the station. The bus driver came to the door at the front of the cluster and started checking people tickets, who then walked past us and on to the bus.

And thus my pateince snapped.

I was there first. I had been waiting 20 minutes, in clear sight of any number of Greyhound employees. And now I was going to be the last one on the bus and have to sit next to some smelly, sweaty stranger for 4 hours because Geyhound doesn't believe in posting a simple fucking "line up here" sign and any number of people who surely knew this unspoken, unwritten rule could have tapped us and said 'hey, if you're waiting to get on the bus, you'll need too line up over there", and my wife had to be too much of a goody-goody to just let us sit on the bus and wait for them to figure out we screwed up because of their scrweed up system. BULLSHIT. Someone was getting an earful of something!

But damn Amy again, she wouldn't let me. And this time, she was right (I still say we should have stayed on the bus when we got on the first time. It's there problem for not educating their customers on boarding procedures). I probably would not have gone so far as to get us banned from our bus, but someone else was already cause quite a stir, a policeman was already sorting out that altercation, and my ranting probably would have had authorities against us quicker than for us.

So after 15 minutes on the bus I lightened up and let it go. At least I did get to sit next to Amy, after she asked someone if they would switch seats.

And on our way to Chicago, the bus made a breif pit stop. "Get your snakcs and get back on, "said the busdriver, "you've got ten minutes." and what had to be 30 minutes later, the bus left the truck stop.

We arrived in Chicago at 12:18, wondering if maybe the busdriver forgot to set her watch back before announcing the time. We got of, checked out tickets and frantically set out to figure out where we needed to go to catch out connecting bus, which could leave any minute (again, yeah Greyhound for making everything so clear). While I was trying to decifer the departures arrivals board, Amy snuck away and came back long faced. "Our bus left 8 minutes ago."

The ticket counter people told her that our ticket was still good for the next bus to South Bend, whihc would be leaving at 7:15 AM. so we could wait in the bus station in downtown Chicago until then, or there was a hotel a few blocks away. And though I was tired, I thought this might be a more appropriate moment to pull out the hint of outrage that my irritated but exhuasted self could muster.

I walked up the the "customer service" desk, holding my temper but clearly frustrated. The 'customer service representative' gave me a very monotone "Can I help you, sir".

Not sure where to being, I said as much, and handed her my ticket. This seemed as good a starting point as any.

She looked up at me, blank-faced, and said, "You missed your bus, sir."

And I explained, in the halting, akward manner of someone who is very angry, very tired, very frustrated, and very much trying to be reasonable, that i was well aware of this, that I missed it because of poor scheduling and a bus drivers whim to take a 30+ minute "ten minute" stop whith only 30 minutes time between the connecting bus schedule, and what was Greyound going to do to get me to my destination on schedule or otherwise make good on the situation.

And she looked up at me, with all the expression of a sack of potatoes, and said, "That's what you get when you take public transportation, sir."

Now, THIS would have been the appropriate time for me to go apeshit. But really, how can you argue with that. When you go to the customer service desk, and complain about poor service, and the customer service representative's response is "that's because we have bad service" -- there's pretty much no place to go from there.

So we went to the $$$ hotel, got a good night's sleep, and took the South Shore commuter train into South Bend late the next morning.

It took us 4 hours to get as far as Terre Haute. It took us 44 hours to get back home.