Sunday, August 22, 2004

Where I am alive to write about it...(Part 3)

And now the concluding part of our epic saga.

When you last saw them, our intrepid hero and his companions had just returned from a second night out in Manhattan. The task that lay ahead of them was two fold, dropping Divya off at Newark International Airport and getting back to State College.

We woke that morning, a tad late. Just an hour and a half late. I got just four hours of sleep. After being woken by Daya and getting directions from him, we set off on what would become an epic journey.

We reach Newark Airport completely incident free and drop off Divya at Terminal A (Delta Atlanta). And then we leave for good old' State College.

We reach it without incident four hours later.

Um...

No.

We reach State College, seven hours later after just a few minor incidents.

So there we are. We've just left Newark Airport and we actually make it to I-80 incident free. I was hungry so we decided to get something to eat. The first detour we took got us lost in the wilds of New Jersey (Surprisingly New Jersey does have wilds). We end up at a really desolate lawyers office where a secretary and a cop point us back to the freeway. Well, the secretary gave us the correct directions; the cop gave us the wrong ones. He did follow us and then give us the correct directions.

The next detour we took resulted in us reaching a PNCBank branch, which was convenient (My bank, so could go to the ATM). Now we have money but still no food.

The final major detour for food was then taken (My grammar sucks and I'm pretty sure that I am mixing up tenses with, for lack of a better phrase, gay abandon). We reach this nice, friendly deli place off I-80. Good food, egg and cheese on rolls and a Danish. That’s what I had. And a cup of coffee.

Well…

Um…

How do I put this?

No way of sugar coating it.

The car caught fire.

Smoke was pouring out from under the fucking hood. I kid you not.

Stepping back a bit.

Breakfast being eaten. Nice. Pleasant conversation and company.

A guy walked up to my table, points to the car and asks if it’s mine.

Hmmm…Lets do this as a dialog.

Mustached Guy(MG): Hey, is that your car?
Me: Yup.
MG: I think it’s on fire.
Me: Whaaaaaa!
Me: Running frantically outside.

Actually I did not say that. I did that.

Back to the story. The car is on fire. And then a bunch of guys appear from nowhere. They pop open the hood, remove the burning clumps of grass. Pour water over the smoking innards, close the hood and disappear.

The fire incidentally was clumps of grass stuck under the car from Friday’s incident. They decided to catch fire for some reason on Monday.

The fire is out. We go back in. Finish our breakfast. Fill up on coffee. And leave.

That was a rather inadequate narrative, but that’s the best that I can do.

Well, the rest of the trip was really pretty eventless. Made a lot of rest stops on the way because I was so sleepy, drank heaps of coffee, ate lots of chocolate and stayed awake.

Thirty miles outside of state college, I smashed my right thumb in the car door. Just to make the drive back more challenging.

That’s about it.

Dropped the car off at Enterprise. Didn’t have to pay a cent. A bit of advice gentle reader, if ever you rent a car, TAKE EVERY POSSIBLE KIND OF INSURANCE.

The saga ends.

The cat is in Manhattan.

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