An Airport Car Rental Makes Life Easier

By Author: Steven Norris
Total Articles: 3764
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Convenience is what I like to consider my favourite word when travelling abroad. I like my suitcase to come out of the revolving bag dispenser first. I enjoy it when I am upgraded from Business to first class, without having to ask. I love it when they serve delicious and edible food on my flight to wherever. In addition, I turn into a screaming maniac whenever all the taxis at once disappear. Isn't this always the case? You step outside the airport and try to hail a cab, with your hands full of suitcases. Then, the only one who isn't reading a newspaper or smoking some foul cigarette speeds off to some unknown destination. So, convenience as I said is my favourite word, and convenience is airport car rental.

Airport car rental, it just makes sense. No taxis, no queues for the airport busses and absolutely no hassles. There are countless options and various car rental outlets at each and every airport. There is always a massive range of cars to choose from, ranging from budget to luxury and everything in between. I think the reason that people are so afraid of car rental is perhaps the price. Let me assure you, it couldn't ...
... be cheaper. As I sit here with laptop keys clicking away, I scan the prices first on the internet and then availability. I choose a modest 2 door, 1.4 liter Ford with all the added comfort options. I can't select a colour plus they say it won't be guaranteed. All that is left is to enter my credit card details and done. The next step is to see if it will be waiting for me when I arrive from my flight. I am updating this article in real-time and as each event unfolds, you will be the first to know of the eventual outcome.

The plane skids to a halt. Wheels grind under tarmac and leave their indelible tar streaks on the runaway. The hostess, with her dull stare and robotic gestures instructs us to depart from the plane. The door rolls opens as the mechanical stairs meet the opening with a satisfying ‘clang'. The outside world, it welcomes me with a fresh breeze as it rolls its scent under my nose. I missed Cape Town, I missed the smell of shack fires, roadside flower sellers and that beautiful eyesore called Woodstock. I scan my digital watch and a voice in the back of my head says, ‘It's time.' It's time to pickup my rental car.

I ignore the luggage at this point; I will come back to it when I have secured my vehicle. Plus there is a very good chance I will never see it again, as I seem to have that sort of luck. I make my way to the Car rental desk at the airport and spy a large sign hanging overhead stating, ‘Lowest Prices or your money back'. Sounds like a fair deal to me. With my head still buzzing from the tiny bottles of airplane alcohol, I nonchalantly hand over my fading and dirty credit card for authorization. The attendant behind the desk informs me that they do not have the model I ordered, but because I booked early I can have a model upgrade for free. That friends, is what we call a ‘Score' in the lexicon of business travel. I sign random papers that have been pushed in front of me and make my way to the depot, car keys in hand.

The overly-friendly depot manager guides me to my car, a shining polo classic 1.6. I am told that it is fully covered in case of accidents. He grunts as he wrenches the door open, his stubby fingers grasping at the door handle as if it were a fresh chicken sandwich. I loathe others opening doors or beer bottles for me. However, it is his job and I am not one to deny a man of his professional courtesy. The door is closed behind me and in an instant, the fresh smell of leather, of new car smell hits me like a summer heat wave. The key finds the ignition and turns clockwise, activating the engine which purrs into life. As I leave the depot, I thank my lucky stars for internet, car rental and Camel Lights [I need to buy a pack before I head home]. That's when a sick realization hits me. I left my luggage at the airport. No matter, I'll just replace the clothes I lost. I crank the window open and light up my first smoke in 15 hours. As the nicotine fills my brain with a smoky calm, I lie back in my driving seat and cruise down the highway, eager to see what the rest of day will bring.