2004-04-17
Like nothin' wants to go my way | Yeah, it just ain't been my day | Nothin's comin' easily

3:53 p.m.

Back History, or Why We Want to Rent a Car Six Days Before Moving
Tyler needs to be in Frankfurt at 6:30 AM on Monday. Beth wanted a car to drive him to the airport, about three hours away. Rental places are closed on Sunday, hence, rent one today. Then, we could take it to Bremen on Friday, and have it to use in between. Renting from Budget in Strasbourg was at least 80 Euros more than Karlsrue, about an hour and 17 Euros (for me) train ride away. Plus, it being in Germany, we would save on the international fees of renting a car in France (Strasbourg) and dropping it off in Germany (Bremen). Beth made the reservation last night and we were to leave this morning to get it.

How it Would Have Turned Out if We Were Unexciting People, or, The Boring Version
We met at 9 AM at the safe and friendly train station to catch the 9:20 train to Karlsrue, tickets bought, in hand, and validated. Uneventul train ride to Karlsrue. Snagged a taxi from the stand located conveniently in front of the station, rode to Budget, handed over the reservation and required ID (which, of course, we had) and were presented with keys to our (midsize class) VW Golf. Climbed in the car, and without any problems, proceeded to take off back towards Strasbourg, never going over any curbs.

What Actually Happened, The Fun Version, or, What Not to Do
Tyler and Beth show up at 9:10 to get tickets from the counter because they have coupons (you can also use machines), but the lady takes forever, and then won't let me jump in with them when I show up a few minutes later. I run to the machine to try and buy a ticket while Beth and Tyler go to the train. Stupid machine goes through the whole deal and then tells me it can't print a ticket. They come back saying that the train's left, anyway. Nice. The next train to Karlsrue arrives at 11:47, thirteen minutes before Budget closes.

Using Beth's phone, we attempt to explain to the barely-English-speaking Budget clerk that we won't be there by noon, can they please stay open a few minutes more. Puts us on hold to find someone (presumably) who speaks English; Beth's phone promply dies. Neither Tyler nor I have a phone. Beth talks to the help desk guy (who speaks English, French, and German) and he tells us there's a Budget around the corner. We find it, but it's closed. Of course.

Back in the train station (where, incidentally, there's a guard wandering around with a machine gun), Beth puts credit on her phone and hands it to the very nice help desk guy who calls Budget for us, only to tell us that a) they don't have our reservation and b) they don't have another car like that and will we take smaller. Um, no - the whole point is that we're moving and need a larger car. Finally, he agrees to stay open until we get there and to give us a larger car at the same price. Yay, something's gone right.

But we're not done. Oh no, my friends, far from it.

We purchase tickets (Beth and Tyler had refunded theirs) and with half an hour to go and growling stomachs, we go to McDonald's across the street. Turns out, we get the trainee who types in the order wrong (repeatedly), the English Muffin machine is being tempermental, etc. Now we're down to less than ten minutes. Tyler and I run back to the train in case it leaves, and the conductor blows his whistle just as we're arriving. We attempt to get on the train but are yelled at and told to go down to the end, to the other second class seats (of course, silly us!). Jump on, find four seats, and Beth arrives a few minutes later, having convinced the conductor to let her on. Whew!

So, now we're on the train. In the clear, right? Think again. Have you not learned anything?

Around Baden-Baden, two German policemen come on our car and ask several apparently suspicious-looking (to them) people for their passports. Beth and Tyler don't have theirs; turns out, neither do I. Oops. Convinced that the scary gun-toting policemen are going to haul us off to German jail, we shrink down in our seats and try to appear innocent. Fortunately, the policemen only check them and move on. One potential international incident avoided. However, on the contract it is clearly stated that must have a passport to rent the car. I have an International Driver's License and am hoping might be able to get away with just that. Tyler's convinced we won't get a car. Beth and I are using her dictionary to look up words and come up with possible ways to convince them to rent us the car, anyway.

Arrive in Karlsrue, exit the station, where the heck are the taxis? A man overhears us and points us in the right direction. We run for about five minutes, jump in a taxi, and are dropped off at Budget (after some more delays). We run in; there are two men behind the counter, one of whom speaks English (the other didn't say anything; may have been the one on the phone and he called in a colleague - smart man!). "License", "credit card", "address", he barks at intervals. The three of us wait with bated breath for the next one: "passport". We don't say anything; Beth and I are literally standing with our fingers crossed. Suddenly, it's "sign this, here is the contract, and here are your keys". What? No passport? How did that happen? Who cares! Let's go!

We grab the stuff and literally run out when Beth asks where the car is (sort of important). The man, now quite friendly, jokes, "it's not in here!" and then takes us out to it. Turns out it's a VW Touran - huge! Well, compared to most cars around here. It's a wagon-type car, lots of room; Beth and I are set for moving (although, still need a place to move to.) I climb in and stall three times. The VW's are different than what I'm used to - not a standard H so reverse is upper left, not lower right. I didn't know about pushing down to get in reverse, so I thought first was reverse and kept trying to start in third. We wanted to get out before he came back and took the car away from us, so I switched with Beth and she drove for about a minute, explained the deal with reverse, and then I took over and remembered how to drive.

Amazingly, that was it; except that the car has a really sharp turning radius and I've already run over two curbs. Well, really only one but almost another. And it maxes out at 180 km/hr. Suck. Tyler thinks it has a "governor", meaning it's limited 180, despite the fact that the odometer goes to 260 and you can feel that it can go faster; it has six gears! Never driven a car with six gears. It's a turbo diesel, gets good gas mileage, and has a nice little kick (thank goodness; the other cars I rented had incredibly sucky acceleration).goDespite being in Karlsrue (with Nick and Ollie driving and navigating, we got lost there to and from Munich), we had no problems getting back to Strasbourg.

So, we have a car. What an adventure. Tonight, there's a party at Beth and Will's. Should be fun.

Oh, yesterday the Americans and Canadians presented for culture night. I attempted to make Nanaimo Bars and pecan pie, both of which I've made before, and well. However, not yesterday. For the first, the butter was too melty for the middle icing layer to set correctly, and the chocolate hardened up too fast and was v. difficult to spread. However, they still tasted fine, even if they looked pretty sketchy! For the latter, I forgot the eggs completely, and burned the top a little. However, the pie still managed to set (amazingly enough; maybe leaving out the eggs is the trick) and after picking off the burnt pecans, it was okay; at least, everyone liked it and it went fast. Overall, it went pretty well, and the presentation was funny. I wore my light-up American t-shirt (generating many comments), and an American bandanna which I actually found here.

Now, to finish TP, clean up my flat, defrost my refrigerator (yes, that's required), pack, and move out. All by Friday!

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