The first trip I ever took that involved renting a car happened to be in Mexico. Specifically- the Yucatan peninsula, all throughout the state of Quintana Roo and small parts of the state of Yucatan. Beautiful land. Gorgeous sea. Amazing culture. Spectacular weather. And the vacation was long overdue, especially for my very patient wife (back then- my girlfriend of a few years) who for seemingly ever had been putting up with my very long hours at the office (something that was unheard of due to her, how can I say- Frenchness?) with very little time off. Literally the only other vacations we took were quick trips to places like Saugatuck, Michigan on a bitterly cold weekend in mid-October. That was supposed to be our Summer holiday- things just kept getting pushed back. Or there was the time where I thought I was being all suave by taking this poor woman to Midwest tourist hell, otherwise known as Wisconsin Dells. Needless to say, we both needed this time and this vacation to go smoothly and be fulfilling.
We arrived at the Cancun airport knowing that we had to find the little Dollar rental car hut just outside. Time was ticking and our seven day trip had been pre-planned almost down to minute intervals. We wanted to get the most out of this trip! The plan was to get in that car and drive the hell out of the over-developed Cancun area and head immediately south into the lesser-developed Riviera Maya, specifically to our palapa on the beach in Tulum.
We approach the counter with the understanding that everything has been taken care of, considering we booked the car ahead of time. Then time came to pay for the initial usage of this tiny, manual transmission car, and that was when I should have seen all of the problems that we would face over the next five days or so. Like the idiot that I am, I forgot to notify my bank that I would be in Mexico... Card denied.
Now this is a common thing for many travelers. How do I know? Well, you see, I WORK FOR A BANK and have to handle this issue for people all the time. You would think that lesson would have been learned by me through others' habitual mistakes, but no. Not me. I remain ignorant to the ways of the world. Which is why I was probably ignorant to the high probability that this would not be the last time we had problems with this little car.
Looking back on it, I am sure that I would have normally not have forgotten such a basic thing, but I chalk up my forgetfulness to divine intervention. Who knows- maybe it was one of the ancient Mayan gods looking out for my well being. After all, while this little car did take us all throughout the beautiful land of the Yucatan, it did also lead to quite a lot of head aches and frustration (not to mention neck pains, broken glass, cracked bumpers, bruised egos, and most importantly- terrific stories).
A quick call to my office, a favor to someone that probably still owes me more than she would care to admit, and a little negotiation with the Dollar people got us on our way only about an hour behind original schedule. What is great about it all is that the changes to the plan, all due to the fact that my card was screwed up for me not calling in advance to let them know I would be out of the country lead us to having to pay a little more per day on insurance in order to get the car right then and there. Choc Muhl or one of the other Mayan gods must have been looking out for us, because without these little changes to our plan, we would have been in a world of hurt (not to mention debt).
Onward bound we were, on our way to the most beautiful white sand beach and the coziest set of sticks bound together to form a little hut one could ask for. Excited doesn't describe how we felt. I just wish we would have heeded the Mayan gods' warnings to not get in that car. To stay in touristy and quite literally "American" Cancun and hang out with frat boys getting wasted poolside as they try to boss around a local to bring them another drink.
For that would have been the safe trip...
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