It sucked. Everything about it sucked. We called Toyota to make an appointment to return Yolanda the Yaris because every piece of mail I received, every email, every prior phone call regarding my final inspection (which showed the car didn't have even normal wear and tear--as if it's brand new!) said to make an appointment. The woman on the phone said that they don't make appointments and that we should return it in the morning on a weekday to avoid having to be there for hours. My mom followed me to Toyota on a weekday morning, and when I said I was there to return my lease, the woman asked, Do you have an appointment?
I. Shit. You. Not.
So I said, I was told on the phone when I called that you don't make appointments. She asked who told me that. I said a very nice woman on the phone. She asked me to wait on a couch, so I waited on a couch. The lease manager appeared, and I recognized him as the salesguy who got me into the Yaris. He asked what I was doing for a car and I told him I'd bought a VW. After going out to the car to retrieve the plates, he told me that they were offering some really good deals if I wanted to buy it out. Because I obviously need a 3 year old Yaris in addition to the brand new VW. So I told him I would never buy the Yaris because the cup holders were in the dumbest place ever. My mother was mortified that I would say such a thing to a car guy, but really, it was the truth. It bugged me for 3 years.
For Chevy? I'm pretty sure they descend directly from evil spirits. They refused to accept his car back early even though he was paying through to the end of the lease. I even called and said that we were moving to another country in a week because of a work emergency, and while Chevy in general was sympathetic in giving me different dealerships that might take it back, the actual dealer we dealt with did not want it back. They said they had no room on the lot. We could not bring it back for months. Until I called on a random morning and a manager told me I could bring it in any day at any time.
I. Shit. You. Not.
So I asked, You mean even though you don't have room on the lot I can bring it back? She was like, we can take it. I was like, so why are we told every day until now that we can't bring it back? She was like, Well you can but just not tomorrow.
Eventually, Eddie just brought it there and refused to leave until they took it.
A few days later, GM called to see when he was returning his lease.
I. Shit. You. Not.
I told the woman that we'd returned it. She asked to which dealership. I told her it was Bical Chevy in Valley Stream and asked if they'd told GM. Nope, GM had no record of the car being returned. I told her that we'd been having problems with that dealership for a long time and asked what we could do. She couldn't tell me more because my name wasn't on the car, but by the time Eddie got back in touch with her, Bical had finally been in touch with GM. There was a disposition fee, however, that the folks at Bical didn't even mention ever, and the woman said there could also be charges for wear and tear. Eddie was like, I have a signed paper that says there's no wear and tear so I'm not paying any charge that shows I have any.
Thankfully, both cars are now in dealerships or with new owners somewhere out there in the universe and we no longer have to deal with that kind of car stupidity. Yeay!
Monday, July 21, 2014
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Right after security, we found bagels. We were in a different terminal from last time, and this one had real bagels and butter and it was a delicious breakfast. As we made our way to our gate, we started to board. Good timing. Eddie and I are always in Zone 3, so everyone boards before us. We waited until the crowd at the gate slimmed down and hopped onto the end of the line. As we waited on the line at the bottom of the ramp to get into the tunnel thingie to board, we heard someone shouting in a rush that the other hallway was the right hallway. The corridor that had been roped off when we passed it was the one to our plane.
Everyone in pre-boarding, first class, elite membership, Zone 1, and Zone 2 had gotten onto the wrong plane. We Zone 3'ers headed into the correct tunnel thingie as the pilot and one crew member stood there, saying they were wondering where everyone was. We had to wait until everyone got off of the wrong plane and onto our line to board.
When we were finally on the plane, we got blankets handed to us by a very efficient flight attendant who has a voice for radio. There were about five people in the two rows in front of us who simply did not understand the concept of "sit where your boarding pass tells you to sit" and everyone had to shuffle multiple times, including a final time to let an unaccompanied minor sit in her assigned seat (though I don't think the fact that she was unaccompanied should have been announced to the entire plane). Then? Part of something broke off. I don't know what it was but it was a long plastic thingie. The radio flight attendant picked it up, looked at it from several angles, looked around the plane, and then simply took it with him to the back. That made me feel real safe.
With all the switching of planes and seats, we were about 45 minutes late in landing. Our brother-in-law picked us up and got us to his house and we were finally on vacation! We had a spectacular July 4 (after napping) filled with food, games, and fireworks. Me and Eddie's mom went head to head on a ball toss game that took way longer than it should have. We also avoided bugs together. It's a fun hobby. Later on, I watched a Spades game unfold. This is a card game I despise because a lot of the winning is based on predicting the future. But then I got talked into playing with Eddie over my shoulder to help. I think I won but I don't really know. So let's say that I did because I like winning.
When time for the fireworks came, we headed to a shopping center parking lot to watch fireworks being set off from a nearby golf course. I was freezing because why wouldn't I be cold in the summer in Georgia?
|Terminal 2 wins over Terminal 4|
|Our niece's Welcome sign. I am wearing clothes, though it looks like I might not be.|
|Spades. This is a good hand. Or not. I still have no clue.|
The arcade also had bumper "cars" and laser tag. Eddie and his sister did the bumper cars. I watched because back in January, I was involuntarily involved in real life bumper cars, and my back doesn't seem up for a game that involves possible whiplash, especially when the two Everything Is A Competition Siblings are involved.
Laser tag was uh-may-zing! I've never played before, but since there were only four of us (me, Eddie, his sister, and our brother-in-law), I was pretty safe in catching on. Then a fifth person joined in, a little kid who was flying solo. We played in teams, girls versus boys. The guy giving us directions asked if we were really sure we wanted to play in teams. The Everything Is A Competition Siblings said yes of course we must play teams. I wanted to play in teams, too, because I really had no idea what I was doing.
However, I listen and follow directions really well. So when the game started, while Eddie was on the second floor trying to pick us off every time we recharged, I was running back to his base, shooting at the target. Hitting a person is 25 points. Hitting the base is 100. I kept shooting at it until my power ran out and I would have to go recharge. Then do it again. The guy who gave us the instructions was in there, yelling out to both teams who was winning and where we should go to catch up. He was mostly telling the red team that they needed points desperately. Every time I ran to the red team base, he was like, keep pointing and don't stop. Heh heh. I liked this guy.
The only thing that got me down was that darn little kid. Everywhere I went, he was there. He kept shooting me and shooting me and I couldn't shake him whenever he caught me until he had to recharge. He would simply empty out his rounds by stalking me every time he saw me and he saw me a lot.
|Very fashionable with my phaser|
|In case you can't read that, it's 16,315 points for me. Yeah, that's right.|
|Meerkats and Me|
|Not a real reptile|
|Gorillas behind us|
|Turtles. But I thought this bike was cooler.|
Then I had some cotton candy
and hung out with my favorite kind of children.
|Quiet. Stationary. Nice.|
|For shame! But at least we were on display!|
And to top it off, a train ride.
|I don't know what he's supposed to be other than terrifying.|
Then it was time to pack and head home.
|Why we need many suitcases. His shoes take up an entire bag. And that's just one pair.|
The agent after that was a little snippy, too, but only to people who were clearly not listening to her instructions, which she was repeating over and over. She told us not to leave our bags until they went onto the conveyer belt because no one else was going to push them through. At that moment, a woman tried to walk away from a bag on the table. The agent was like, And where are you going? The woman pushed her bag on the table but not on the belt and tried to move again. Seriously, that must be exasperating. After that, the agent told us that people 74 and older did not have to remove their jackets and shoes, and if we felt 74, we should do some stretching. Heh heh.
We went through the scanner and I got stopped. The guy asked if I had anything in my pockets. I said no. Then he looked down and said, Oh you've got on fancy pants. I said, Oh no I didn't realize they were fancy. Another female agent told me she was going to check my pockets and I was like, sure thing, and then she wiped my hands and we waited for a machine to tell me I was clean. While we waited, Eddie got stopped, too, and I was like, Oh no he has on fancy pants too! We both had pants with designs on them that the scanner clearly did not like, but the agent at the machine told me not to worry. I apparently sounded really distressed about the whole fancy pants. Incidentally, we wore the same pants on the flight out from JFK with no issue, so ATL and JFK have different ideas about pants and their level of fancy.
We got to the gate on time! Then our flight was delayed! An hour. Then another. Then a half. It was all weather related. This is another reason wind is my least favorite weather.
To make up for the delays, Delta rolled out a cart of free snacks. Everyone pounced all at once. We waited and then Eddie got a Sprite for me. Later on, we got some pretzels.
We finally boarded and sat and took off and landed and upon entering the JFK area, the turbulence rocked the plane and we flew through thick fog and more bumps and fog and more bumps and more until we landed, at which point I separated myself from Eddie, releasing my claw-like grip of terror. We were about three hours later than we were supposed to be, but really, I was just happy to be home. And in one piece.
By the way, this is me and my "little" niece.
|She's about an inch taller than me.|