Where The Streets Have No Name…

…or in Denver’s case, WAY TOO MANY.

June 11th, Will and I raced to Wichita Mid-Continent Airport and got through security with 45 minutes to spare before our 8:13 p.m. flight. Fantastic. The schedule board said the flight was on time, but the moment we sat down at gate 10 we heard the announcement. Not only was our flight delayed, our plane hadn’t even left Denver yet and we weren’t scheduled to leave until 10 p.m. To make things better, the little deli counter, the magazine kiosk, and the bar were all closed. And there’s no vending machine. Brilliant.

After we finally boarded the plane, they told us it would be at least another half hour before takeoff.

Denver International Airport: I'm not sure why, but I am bothered by an airport terminal that is a tent.

We got up in the air and the pilot gave us the first good news of the night. He’d just gotten the flight path and our flight would only take an hour rather than an hour and twenty minutes. Except that with the thunderstorms popping up, the flight ended up taking two hours as we were diverted all over Colorado.

I can’t say I minded the length of the flight, though, because we had the most incredible view out the window. The thunderheads below us were lit from beneath by the city lights and from above by an incredible lightning display. We were flying at 38,000 feet and eventually the storm clouds ballooned to even greater altitudes and we saw only the black of night out the window.

The flight attendants passed out drinks and because the plane was only half full, we each got a full can of soda.  Score! But then the turbulence increased and the pilot turned the seatbelt sign on again, so the flight attendants rushed to collect the trash. It was a choice between chugging my ginger ale or wearing it, so I chose the former. Big mistake.

The plane was bouncing and I was doing the pee-pee dance in my seat.  So were half the other passengers.

Now, I know the seatbelt sign means you aren’t supposed to get up unless it’s an absolute emergency, but I was having a potty emergency. The cabin lights were off, so I felt my way toward the rear of the Canada Regional Jet where its only bathroom is located, only to find a flight attendant seated IN FRONT OF THE BATHROOM DOOR.

I would like to ask, as politely as possible, who the hell thought it was a good idea to put the jump seat in front of the damn toilet door? Because I’m telling you, it is not a good idea. It is a bad idea. A very bad, stupid, idiotic, horrible idea. Whoever designed that plane deserves to be strapped into a tiny little aisle seat, continuously force-fed liquids, and denied bathroom access for the longest, bumpiest flight ever.

So I ask the flight attendant if she can move to one of the numerous empty seats so I can pee and she says no. I know she’s just following protocol. I understood that, but my bladder did not. I returned to my seat and my fiance joked,“That was quick.” “Yeah, the flight attendant is sitting in front of the door,” I explained. The scowl on Will’s face mirrored my own. “So we can’t use the bathroom?” “Nope.” “Then can she at least bring me a couple of empty cups?”

The sad thing is he was barely kidding. By the time the plane finally landed, the barf bags were looking like a pretty good option.

Seriously, that's their slogan? I call BS.

After peeing, the next stop was the National Car Rental counter, which a nice man on the phone had assured me was open 24-hours. It was, of course, deserted. So Will and I ventured out into the rain to get on the shuttle bus which was supposed to take us to the main National Car Rental building. Again, the man on the phone assured me there would be agents working.

The bus driver told us there would only be two stops. The first was for emerald club members only and the next would be for Alamo rental cars. Since we weren’t renting from Alamo, Will and I tried to get off at the first stop. The driver totally flipped out. “Only Emerald Club! Yours is the next stop.”

We backpedaled and waited as the doors closed, the driver pulled forward (no joke) twenty feet, then opened the doors again. “THIS is your stop,” he said.

Inside the Alamo/National office, the National side was completely dark and unmanned. I used the kiosk to check in (thereby making my previous online reservation completely redundant), then went outside with my ticket as the kiosk screen instructed. We joined a group of several other people shivering in the fifty-degree, rainy, misery that was Denver at 1 a.m. We all looked around with matching “what the hell do we do now?” expressions on our faces.  One hoodie-wearing fellow customer (a hilarious dude whose name I didn’t catch) debated snagging a minivan.

Finally someone came from the building. He briefly glanced at each person’s ticket and pointed to a car lot. “Anything over there!” he said.
He didn’t have to tell us twice. Someone else beat us to the Dodge Charger. We decided we didn’t need an SUV, so we jumped in a Chrysler 300. About the time I found the headlights and adjusted my seat, Hoodie-dude pulled up in front of us in a bright yellow VW bug and rolled down his window. “I had to give it a test drive, man!”

We settled into the Chrysler 300 with a welcome sigh of relief. We could relax finally because we were on our way to the hotel.

I had my list of directions on hand. I drove and Will navigated. We exited the parking lot and headed for Pena Blvd. Unfortunately, the entrance to said boulevard is not marked. You pull up to a stoplight and see an underpass painted with huge letters saying “PENA BLVD. TO I-70.” How does it help to know what street is going over the top of your head with absolutely no way, at that point, to get to that street? So we ended up having to double back toward the airport.

I have a question for the City of Denver. Do you not believe in EXIT signs? Most airports have a way to loop around and get back out. Denver did not have this. Oh sure, in daylight I’m sure it all makes perfect sense to someone who has been there before. But for my first time driving in Denver at 1:30 a.m. during torrential rain, it was less than clear.

So we finally manage to get to Pena Boulevard. After lots of merging and such, my directions tell me to take “the CO-121 exit toward 287/Broomfield/Lafayette”.  This makes sense once you get there… but six or seven miles before you get to the correct exit there is a DIFFERENT exit for 287. Yeah, that’s not confusing at all. And instead of taking me to my hotel, this exit took me to a bunch of strip clubs and assorted shady stuff.

Let’s just cut to the chase. Driving in Denver sucks. It’s like sprawling Oklahoma City and oblique New Jersey spawned some weird, deformed baby. Streets change name without warning. Is it so hard to let a street be named ONE THING along its entire span? Granted, there’s a street in Norman, Oklahoma that begins as HW-77 on the south side of town, becomes Classen, is called Porter through the old part of town, and then becomes Sunnylane Road to the north of town. Four names within ten miles. Heading to breakfast in Denver, I took Fox Street, which turned into 23rd Street, which turned into Park Avenue West, which turned into 22nd Street. Four street names in the span of ONE MILE. Come on, Denver, is that really necessary?

Driving around Denver doesn’t suck because of traffic but because of the roads. You exit in one place but there is nowhere to get back on or turn around. I don’t know how long it would take before you could navigate the city without a map. Denver is the greatest argument for GPS that I have ever seen. If I hadn’t had a Google Maps application on my phone, I’m pretty sure we’d still be driving around trying to find the hotel. But for all the navigational difficulties, Denver was fantastic whenever the car was parked.

Advertisements

One Response to “Where The Streets Have No Name…”

  1. Sorry for any issues with your experience with National in Denver, we’d like to address this with you. Please email us at care[at]nationalcar.com with your full name, contact information, the rental agreement number and any other details of your experience.

    When emailing please list reference #100625-000937 in the subject line.

    – Elizabeth with National Car Rental

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: