The 7,000 mile commute.

November 10, 2006 Dear Journal, Last week I quit caffeine, flew from New York to Fresno, called the audience "Modesto,"� drove to San Luis-Obispo, then flew back to New York City. With a trip like that, you're bound to run into some snags and I sure did, Journal. My troubles began at my hotel in San Luis-Obispo. It's a beautiful town on the coast, so I made meticulous plans to stay in a hotel on the water, so I could enjoy the finer aspects of California, not just the many freeways, Jamba Juices, and hate crimes. When I arrived at the hotel they said they didn't have my reservation. When we investigated further, they said they had made my reservation for the previous Thursday. I said, "I wasn't here last Thursday."� These are the nicest words I used in the interaction. You see, Journal, I had checked and double-checked these reservations and when the manager told me there was nothing he could do, I lost my cool. I said, "If you don't find me a room in the hotel, I'm going to be (expletive) furious."� And then the manager said, "Sir, you don't have to take it to that level."� Five minutes later, he found me a room. Apparently, I did have to take it to that level. I enjoyed my stay, did the show, and made my way to the airport the next morning. The San Luis Obispo airport is so small that it's kind of like parking at somebody's house. I felt like I should have brought a gift. Maybe a bottle of wine or some fuel. I usually don't fly out of small airports because over the years I've had a lot of cancellations. You see, Journal, if airlines don't have enough people to make a flight worthwhile, they'll just cancel the flight. This can be very inconvenient for people who are human beings. Human beings who love to go to destinations they have purchased plane tickets for. So the airline will say it's "engine complications"� or "unexpected maintenance,"� but what they really mean is, "We don't know you that well, we don't have any loyalty to you, and we don't feel like going."� As it turns out, my flight was cancelled. So I decided to rent a car to Los Angeles, where the other leg of my flight picked up. I went with Avis. Last time I rented from Thrifty and didn't have much luck. And people were like, "What do you expect? Their name is Thrifty."� I'm like, "Yea, but the other companies are called Budget and Dollar. One of the companies is called Rent-a Wreck. You're telling me that Thrifty is worse than Rent-a-Wreck? The last time I looked up the word "wreck,"� it means the car is irreparably damaged. They're using that as their selling point? So I went with Avis because I don't what the hell that means. And they pulled that passive aggressive thing that rental places do regarding insurance. They're like, "Do you want the 15 dollar coverage?"� and you're like, "I don't think so."� And then they give you that look like, "Hope you don't crash our car."� In the line I had become friendly with a woman who was supposed to be on the same flight. When she saw that I was renting a car, she asked if she could get a ride. I thought, "No, no, no, no."� And then I nodded and said "Sure!"� because for me to screw her over the way the airline had just screwed me over would have been too ironic. Megan and I enjoyed a pleasant trip down the coast. At one point my girlfriend called and I had to explain that I was in a car with a strange woman who I had never met but was on a 4-hour road trip with. Try doing that sometime. I considered telling my girlfriend that my new friend's name was Steve, but then I thought this woman might have thought that I was some kind of serial killer trying to form an alibi. I did not want to freak Megan out, or lie to my girlfriend, so I ended up being vague and elusive, like someone in a hostage situation. We got to the airport and after all I had been through, the woman at the ticket counter upgraded me to 1st class, which was almost too much. I'm so accustomed to coach that I felt like I should invite other coach class passengers up to share my seat with me. "Plenty of room up here, team!"� As I sat in 1st class sipping tea and wearing eye pillows, I thought, "The ticketing agent had been had been so sweet that it actually made up for everything that had gone wrong and it pointed out the lesson for my weekend: "˜Sometimes you have to take to that level, and sometimes you don't.'"� And that concludes this week's entry in my Secret Public Journal.