When I Return

I'm insanely obsessive-compulsive, so in preparing to travel anywhere, I always create a series of lists to cover anything and everything. There are packing lists, to-do lists, and occasionally, lists of phone numbers, addresses, and/or confirmation numbers. I also like to do a lot of prep work, if it seems like the trip is going to be a little complicated, or involve something out of the ordinary. 

For my trip back east, I had to park my car long-term at San Francisco's airport; this was not a problem, really, except that I had a) never before been to this airport and b) had no idea how to get from the parking lot to the terminal. And the prospect of undertaking something without a little foresight and preparation is always extremely daunting. I don't know how to fly by the seat of my pants.

But the good old internet is really helping the way in which we travel, because I logged onto SFO's website to do some research, and figured out everything I'd need to get from my house to my flight's gate on Sunday morning. Literally, everything, including which restaurants would be in closest proximity to my gate (I really need to stop thinking about food all the time). 

I did the same on Philadelphia Airport's website, and didn't fare as well, as the quality of its website is equivalent to the quality of its airport. I'll let you do the math.
I needed to figure out how to get from my arrival gate to the Hertz rental site, since I had a rental car for the week. As I'm (only?) 24, I've obviously never rented a car before, so this was completely new territory for me. The website very succinctly told me to go to Zone 2—this, of course, meant nothing to me. 

And so I arrived in Philadelphia on Sunday evening, and proceeded to scrutinize every sign for arrows pointing towards Zone 2. They didn't exist; I instead followed signs for the exit, and it was only upon my arrival there that there were signs for various zones. By some lovely stroke of luck, the Hertz shuttle pulled up at the exact same time I walked out the door, so I didn't have to spend time internally panicking over whether or not I was in the right place. 

Within a half hour, I was sitting in the driver's seat of a Nissan Versa, blasting the sweet sounds of Radio 104.5, and driving down the familiar roads of I-95.

My return to California was also seamless, after an initial roadbump: I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to get into the Hertz rental parking lot to return the car. Apparently you don't actually follow directions to the lot's address. Instead, you drive into the airport under "Arrivals," and follow signs for Rental Car Drop-off. Did everybody know this but me? Don't answer that; I don't want to know.
I learned this piece of information purely by chance, after making a few wrong turns (thank you GoogleMaps, for failing me), and trying to salvage the situation by turning again into the arrival lane of the airport. 

I get irrationally irate at myself when I make wrong turns or get lost, since I pride myself on being fairly competent when it comes to directions and navigation. Of course, it'd be a lot easier if places could pony up for some well-labeled signs. Finding the long-term parking lot in San Francisco would have been a breeze even if I hadn't looked up directions beforehand.

But once I pulled the car into the Hertz parking lot, everything that followed unfolded calmly and with ease, all the way back to my car in SFO's parking lot.

If there's ever a next time, I'm going to be a pro—and it will be awesome.