So off we went. Or so we thought.
Not a single car rental company operates in downtown Detroit on Sundays. So we needed to take an Uber across the border to Windsor Airport and get the car from there. It was shaping up to be a $20 ride, which was no problem. Until we got into our Uber car.
"I can't take you across the border," Marlon said.
(You know what Sam Reinhart would say in this situation..."S--- happens.")
Marlon presented us with a few options, none of them particularly appealing given the potential time crunch we were facing, but we appreciated them all the same.
We made the jump from the Uber to a cab.
"Windsor Airport," we said.
"One hundred bucks," was the reply from the unkempt driver of a van that matched his description. I can't tell you what my reply was because my mother might be reading this.
But suffice to say, the negotiation was brief, the price got cut in half and I told him I could only pay by credit card… And we still weren't sure this...driver...would ever…get us…there.
After imploring him to "go a little faster" (I should have asked him to stop smoking!), we eventually arrived at YQG. And guess what? His credit card machine wouldn't work! (That NEVER happens!!!)
I would have made him squirm for a long time if we didn't have a show to get to so I leaned on the Bank of Chris to settle the fare. Having just made the rental car reservation within the hour, we confidently strode to the counter, only to see a sign (in front of a rude, disinterested lady) saying that due to winter weather, they were all out of cars.
IT WAS 45 DEGREES AND SUNNY! AND I HAD JUST MADE THE RESERVATION.
But the sign actually said, "A reservation does not guarantee a vehicle." WTF.
Unsurprisingly, there was now a line of five people at the counter of the other car rental service (because no one else had vehicles) and I was beginning to...laugh. Honestly.
You know when you look at your friend and you're like "What have we just done?" It was really the only thing we could do.
On the inside, I was feeling pretty sure there would be no cars left by the time we hit the front of the line, but boy was I wrong.
This guy had a drawer full of keys.
Literally.
A steel filing cabinet. Bottom drawer. Sets of keys upon sets of keys and he just looks up like, "What kind of car do you want?"
"The cheapest!"
Not available of course, so we settled on something more mid-size.
And off we went.
And we made it.
And it was GREAT!