Traveling Lady

8:15 on a Sunday night in Dallas Fort Worth airport. All of the flights to Austin were canceled due to thunderstorms, and the forecast assured me the bad weather would continue for the rest of the night. I immediately called the rental car service line and gave them my premium card number. If I stood in line at the rental desk, all the cars would be gone. I could already see arguments breaking out in the car rental desk area. The benefits of being a frequent traveler. I had a wallet full of cards that more or less ensured I would get a car, a hotel room, or the last seat on a flight in emergencies like this.

The agent on the phone assured me she could reserve a car for me and then transferred me to the DFW desk. A harassed man picked up the phone and I saw his eyes close when he realized that one more car had gone from their rapidly diminishing pool. He pulled up my account and allocated a full-size sedan on a five-day rental. “Please come to the desk when I call your name. It’ll take us about half an hour to get your car ready.”

I nodded and waved in case he could see me. He didn’t even try. I asked, “Do I have time to go and get a coffee? If so, can I get you one?” I always try to spoil the people who are making my life easier. He paused, surprised, and asked for an espresso and a cup of iced water. I saw him smile briefly when he hung up the phone.

The Starbucks line was very long, as expected. Now that my car problem was resolved, I was relaxed, and I fell into conversation with a businessman who joined the line behind me. He was very tense, knowing that he had no chance of getting to Austin tonight. He was talking to let off steam – I could easily relate to that. I asked him why he couldn’t change the times of his meetings in the morning, but he shook his head in frustration. “It took me weeks to get this appointment. This was my big chance to land a deal. If I tell them I can’t get there in time, I’ll definitely lose out. I should have flown yesterday to make sure. I just have to hope there will be at least one flight taking off first thing in the morning. I’ve upgraded to first class, and I have requests out with two other airlines.”

I made sympathetic noises. I’ve been in that situation. We all have.

The line inched forward. “What business are you in?” he asked.

“I’m a computer project manager. I specialize in saving failing projects. My client is expecting me at 7:00 a.m. It’ll be a long week, so I have to drive there tonight.”

He nodded. Solidarity between the traveling professionals. He handed me his business card, saying, “My name’s Alex. It’s good to have someone to talk to while I go insane.”

I laughed. Despite his words, and his sorrowful look, he seemed calm. His business card told me a lot about him. A business development manager, obviously trying to meet his quarterly objectives in the last week of the quarter. I guessed he didn’t think his job was at risk, just his bonus. I offered him my business card in the traditional exchange. “Diane. You’re taking it pretty well.”

His grin was charming. “Well, I’m fortunate to be stuck in line next to a sexy high-powered project manager. I could have been talking to someone who wants to sell me cosmetics or cleaning products.”

My eyes rolled at his cheesy line, then I forgave him with his follow-up statement – I dread sitting next to salespeople who think they can sell to me when I’m commuting. Last week I was on a full flight beside someone who was determined to hone her sales technique at my expense. I told Alex that story, including my solution, when I eventually just turned to her and demanded that she shut up and let me rest. She turned bright red and huffed but left me alone.

Alex threw back his head and laughed. I noted his shiny white perfect teeth, and his expressive eyebrows raised in shock. “You did that? Really? I would love to have seen that! I’d be afraid of having coffee dumped on me.”

I nodded. “Probably safer for me to do that with another woman. It might seem aggressive coming from a man. I spent a few years in Australia, and I learned to handle direct confrontation. I don’t often use the skill, but when I do, I aim to kill with a single shot.”

He started asking questions about my time in Oz, and the line continued its slow march forward. We enjoyed the same things, felt the same way about travel and the pros and cons of our jobs. It was a light, easy conversation. As we neared the front of the line, he offered to take our rollaboard bags to a free table while I placed the order. After a moment’s thought (would he steal my case or perhaps put a bomb in it?), I agreed. When he offered me a $20 bill to cover his coffee, I waved it away.

With three coffees and a water on a tray, I walked over to the table he had found. He looked questioningly at the tray, and I explained my offer to the rental car guy.

“Nice” he approved. “So you managed to snag a car? Where are you headed?”

I had avoided mentioning my destination. “Austin,” I said “Same as you. My car should be ready in a few minutes.”

We left that hanging in the air for a few seconds. He sipped his coffee and avoided eye contact.

“Okay, do you want a ride to Austin tonight?”

Alex looked at me seriously. “Don’t feel you have to. We’re strangers, and it’s an imposition. I can’t even often to share the driving with you. But I can chatter away and keep you awake and alert.”

I relaxed a little. “It’s alright. It’ll only take a couple of hours. But why can’t you share the driving?”

He explained the car rental companies’ rules about accepting second drivers who were not family members. I had no idea, and it seemed stupid, as so many rentals are for business purposes.

“Well, then I suppose you get to be navigator and entertainment for the journey. Are you staying in downtown Austin?” I hoped he was; I didn’t want to spend extra time driving around to find his hotel in the rain.

“Yes,” he said eagerly, “the Omni on 7th Street. But you can drop me off wherever works for you.”

I was actually staying in north Austin, at a cheaper hotel, more convenient to my client. But it would be an easy detour, straight down I-35. “I can drop you at the hotel, no problem. Let’s go and get that car.” I threw back the rest of my coffee and stood, grabbing my rollaboard and the coffee tray. Alex cleared the empty cups and followed me to the rental area.

The storm was brutal. I was glad to have someone in the car with me. I knew the drive well, it’s a straight shot down I-35. But traffic can be rough, and the visibility was poor. Alex and I kept our conversation casual. We shared stories about our travels first. Worst hotels, worst flights, best freebies, and so on. By the time we approached Waco, and hit the college traffic, we had exhausted that topic, so we started to talk about our upbringing and college years. My degree had been earned in Australia. He, improbably, had majored in Bible studies – I had been educated in Europe and Asia, so I had never heard of such a thing except for trainee priests. He thought my early life moving from country to country suggested a lack of grounding. It became apparent that although we were like-minded today, we had come from very different origins.

As we passed through Round Rock, the last separate city before Austin, we had started to feel like friends. Enough to talk about politics and argue about economics and policies. It was nearly 11:00 p.m. and we were both starting to get sleepy. With a crack of lightning almost at the same time as a loud rumble of thunder, the storm suddenly grew worse. The rain was almost horizontal, and visibility went from poor to non-existent. My driving skills have always been questionable, so I was very nervous. I had to focus all my attention on driving. Alex’s calm voice became a beacon for me to follow. “Slow down, put the fog lamps on. Don’t use your brights, they just reflect back at you. Stay in the right lane. Now just stay behind that car. We’ll let him guide us into Austin.”

I reminded myself to breathe slowly and steadily, and I did as Alex directed. The lights of downtown Austin started to appear, and the weather cleared enough for me to follow signs to the Capitol building, and then to find the Omni hotel. I was shaking by the time we parked at the hotel.

“Why don’t you spend the night here, Diane?” asked Alex. “I’m sure you could get a room, or we could get them to put a cot in my room. I don’t want you to drive farther than you have to in this weather.”

It was a tempting offer. It would soon be midnight, and the weather was not showing signs of letting up any more. But at 7:00 a.m. I was due to meet with a client in north Austin. He needed to rest and get ready for his morning meeting. Those of us who travel for a living don’t have the luxury of pretending to be on vacation. I watched him take his rollaboard out of the trunk, then I held out my hand to shake his. “It was good to meet you, Alex. Thanks for the company on the road. Good luck tomorrow.”

He met my gaze with a regretful look. “Same to you, Diane. Drive safely.”