But It's a Bus!

Landing in Oklahoma City a little after 10 p.m., it felt good to finally be here and soon to be dealing with my father's service. I still won't make any predictions of how I will feel 72 hours from now, or 48 for that matter.

To get me off thinking about my loss over and over in my head throughout the two flights, I hit the ground on the roll. The folks Dollar Rental Car informed me that the only compact they had needed an oil change so they were going to put me in a van. "A van? Don't you mean a bus," I said looking at the pictures. Well, we can give you a mini-van. Well, once I walked up to the Dodge Caravan I was still convinced it was a bus.

I then drove to what I thought I'd booked on line as the Fairfield Inn. I double checked the address and my reservation, and it was actually something called the Cambridge Inn. It was pretty spooky, but I can say the same about lobbies of some Hyatts. I went to the room "Oh, behind the tennis courts," the receptionist said. That sounded promising. I got to the room and was pretty shocked. Okay, I've stayed in places this spooky in Bolivia, but for $8 a night. I was really beat and I'd only be there 7-8 hours, but still...

Walking back to my car to get my bag, I walked past a guy talking to the manager who blurted out, "Excuse me sir, did you just walk by my room? Are you the one that broke out my window?" Within 90 seconds, I had my money back, and whizzed by two police cars. Driving through the parking lot I spotted three shirtless guys in mullets. It looked like an episode of C.O.P.S. or a crystal meth convention.

Fifteen minutes I was cozy in bed at the Marriott Courtyards.