I landed in SoCal yesterday and picked up my luggage. Next stop was the rental car garage. Normally I can get just go straight to the car and the keys and paperwork are waiting for me. This time, there were stars on the board next to my name, instead of a stall number.
That's never good.
After some silliness with the credit card, the agent began looking for a car for me.
"Mr. Cromely, I see you reserved a mid-sized car. I have a Toyota Corolla for you." I say it's fine and look forward to getting to my hotel room.
"Well, Mr. Cromely, if you want, for $14 a day more, I can upgrade you to ..."
Awesome. They are offering me an upgrade. They took one look at me and must have though I need something cooler than a Corolla. What kind of car do they think befits a character as suave and cool as me? A Cadillac? A Mustang Convertible? A Jaguar? An H2? That special sports car in the back?
"Well, Mr. Cromely, if you want, for $14 a day more, I can upgrade you to ... a Camry. Would you like to do that?"
What?!?! A Camry? The car I belong in is a Camry? For $14/day more? That's what you see me in? I'm Camry material?
Now don't get me wrong. The Camry is a lovely vehicle. I've rented a few. But today, despite all the nifty looking cars they have, the one they think I will want to pay an extra $14/day for is a Camry.
Am I really that old?
I declined the offer.
And let me tell you, that Corolla can really tear it up on Alton Parkway.