Where to begin? Considering I was gone sixteen days, I figure I can wrangle quite a few posts out of this little experience. I may not have to come up with anything original for months!Ok, so we flew into Newark a day early so we could go to Wallkill before leaving. That required renting a car from the trusty Enterprise near the airport. Now bear in mind that I am from Hicksville, Nebraska, and I don't exactly love driving in the city. So I planned ahead and brought along the trusty Tom Tom to guide me into the trash-filled depths of Newark. Just one problem: I reached in my bag and no Tom Tom. It was apparently sitting comfortably on the dash of my car... in Omaha.So I rented a nifty little Garmin GPS from the car rental in hopes I could keep the new Chevy Malibu they gave me intact (only 4 miles on it!) and we were on our way. The delightful British woman living in the Garmin patiently directed me through parts of Newark I would have rather not seen, and we were on our way to New York. Everything went fine on the way, and I was feeling pretty confident about my driving abilities. And then we started back to Enterprise, just as we realized... it was freakin' rush hour.The bumper to bumper traffic and rage-filled drivers wouldn't have been so bad. You know, if it hadn't started to rain. But somehow torrential downpours seem to bring out the worst in New Jersey drivers, who I'm sure on a good day kiss their mothers with those mouths. Just as an hour and a half of dodging animals lining up two by two leaves me with white knuckles, it apparently doesn't bring out the good side of the natives either. I'm pretty sure I received the international hand greeting of NYC more than once, and truckers love nothing more than to get right on your bumper when there is nowhere for you to go. I almost became bug guts in the grill of a Peterbilt.As we got nearer to the Enterprise where I needed to drop the car, I realized that I was supposed to put gas in it before it was returned. We were about 20 miles from the place, and I started looking for a station. Guess what? Gas stations in Newark are as plentiful as nuns selling themselves on street corners. We were back in front of Enterprise and I still hadn't found a station. My solution? Go back on the road we initially took when leaving Newark.But this time I was wandering with a particular destination and I had time to look around. The further we went, the grittier it got. More graffiti, lots more trash, drug deals in the open. I kept looking around for Patty the Daytime Hooker, but no luck. And still no gas stations!I finally spotted a little hole in the wall place that looked like there was a fairly good chance of contracting hepatitis from touching the gas pump. I whipped in, only to discover that we were likely the only whiteys for miles. Mind you, we are also all in dresses (from our tour jaunt) and driving a 2009 shiny vehicle. Calling all carjackers!A large Arab man came strolling over and said, "How much?" I'm not used to full service stations out here, but I told him to fill it up. He replied, "How pay?" I told him credit card, and asked if I needed to go into the building to pay, thinking I could just pay at the pump. He reached for my card, and I wrongly assumed he was just wanting to see what type it was. Instead, he grabs the sucker, puts it in his shirt pocket and walks away. Uhh, helloo?! I'm not paying for my gas and your big screen tv!Just then, this hunched over, dirty, raggedy black lady comes shuffling over to me and says, "Girl, don' be worryin'. He cool, he cool. Now anywheres else, you be sayin' , 'Where he goin' wit my card?' But dis da way dey do it here in Newark. He da gas man, he do dis all de time. It's all good, he bring it back, cuz he cool." Yes, well, thank you, homeless lady, but I prefer to keep tabs on my card a little better than that. It was at that point that I realized the building I assumed was the station was actually closed up, and the shack I thought was a dirty concession stand was actually the gas station. We are not in Kansas anymore. The homeless woman proceeded to hit me up for money, "cuz all I got is dis thin dime", I gave her a dollar for crack or Colt .45, and went to collect my card. As it turned out, it was "all good", my card was returned to me without paying for anyone's falafels, and we made it safely back to the car rental without dying in the streets in dresses.When I got back to the motel, we met up with the two friends who were joining us from Rapid City, SD. I was grumbling about forgetting things in Omaha, reached in my purse and there was my Tom Tom. My brain had been more organized than I gave it credit for. But the $16 Garmin rental was still worth it, if only not to die in a pile of trash and used condoms in Sucktown, New Jersey.Next up: Day Two!
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