Super Shuttle Nightmare

My sister and I decided to be nice to our aunt when we touched down in San Francisco last week at midnight by taking a Super Shuttle to her house instead of having her pick us up at the ungodly hour at the airport. This usually works well, or at least when I've taken the Super Shuttles in Los Angeles, but this is not the case in San Francisco. 

After frantically looking for the confirmation email from Super Shuttle, and realizing they never sent one, we just assumed that they would be able to look up our name to find our reservation. I had printed a copy of my bank statement saying they took money out of my account, so I knew that they had our information somewhere. Apparently it was somewhere in cyberspace as the unfriendly shuttle driver grunts a confirmation that he is the driver to our destination, but then walks away from us when we say that we don't have a confirmation number. My sister and I shrug at each other and hope that the driver walking to the driver's door is a sign that he's going to find our reservation info. 

Not quite...he calls dispatch and proceeds to butcher our last name in asking if they have our information. Two minutes later he walks back over to us and just grabs my suitcase from my hand to throw in the back of the van. "I guess we're good to go," I think. We hop inside and sit with two other passengers. The driver is still bickering with the dispatcher, shouting our last name, letter by letter, into the phone as he puts the van in drive and takes off.

We circle the airport once and park right where we got in the van. The driver isn't leaving the airport until he has a full van. Crap. The two other passengers have apparently been circling the airport for twenty minutes and are about to strangle the driver. We're about to kill him as well because he won't tell us anything, but keeps shouting at the dispatcher. Suddenly his cell phone is thrust in my face and the driver tells me to speak to his dispatcher. 

"hello," I say.

"Can I have your confirmation number," the dispatcher asks.

"I was never sent one, but can you look me up by my last name?"

"Well I need your phone number to confirm that your reservation was actually completed..."

I cut the dispatcher off, "Um, no, my reservation did go through because Super Shuttle took the money for the ride out of my bank account. I just need you to find my reservation," I said a little hasty. Seriously, how do you run a business with no one being able to check anything on a computer and everyone giving you shit if you don't have a confirmation number?

"Mam, please don't yell at me, I'm just seeing if you did make the reservation..."

Yea, it's 12:30am, and I'm short tempered, tired, and now annoyed, "you took the money, so you have my info..."

"I'm going to transfer you," the dispatcher cuts me off and next thing I hear it a ringing phone. It goes to the main shuttle line and then says a dispatcher will answer my call in a second. Back to ringing. By this point the driver has decided that the latest passenger we picked up has hit his invisible quota to leave the airport and we're finally headed to one of the passenger's destination. The phone is still ringing.

"the phone is just ringing," yell up to the driver.

Silence.

"Do you want me to keep on the line?" More silence, more ringing.

A minute later I hang up and ask the passenger in front of me to hand the driver back his phone. I'm not gonna sit on the phone waiting for someone to pick up to fix a mistake that isn't my fault. The driver just takes his phone and asks for our destination address, proceeding to type it into his gps system while driving on the freeway. So safe.

Two minutes later, at 1:13am, my phone starts to ring. 

"Hello," I say.

"Yes, you order a Super Shuttle? I'm waiting to drive you," an Indian voice inquires.

"Um, yea, I'm in one."

"I'm at the airport waiting for you. Where are you?" the voice asks.

"I'm already in one of your shuttles, driving on the freeway," I say. 

"But I'm waiting for you, to drive you."

For a Super Shuttle you just make a reservation online or on the phone and go out to the sidewalk at the airport, hopping in the first van headed your direction. They don't actually have specific shuttles waiting for you with your name on a sign, so I'm slightly confused why this man on the phone is distraught that my sister and I have not shown up two hours after we've landed to have him drive us home? It's also funny to me that this man calling me has my phone number and knows I have a reservation, and yet our current driver and his dispatcher could not find our information in their system.

I manged to obtain my confirmation number from the phone guy and I tried to tell it to our driver, but I think he was past caring as he grunted and said he didn't need the info anymore. I wished I hadn't prepaid the tip. We continue onto one of the other passengers locations and then, finally, our Aunt's house, only slightly almost dying 3 or 4 times on the way there.

Once, when I was on the phone, the van suddenly swerves right across two lanes, then stops sideways on the exit ramp before the driver looks at his gps unit and then charges back onto the freeway. Apparently he turned off an exit too soon and decided to rectify his mistake. The rest of the near death experiences were due to "California stop" inducing whiplash and a swerve left to actually go right, turn. 

Once at our aunt's, we quickly exited the death trap, grabbed our bags, and grunted a thanks to the "still ignoring us" driver. San Fransicso Super Shuttle drivers, dispatchers, and customer service all receive a half star on service from me. It would be no stars, except for the fact that my sister and I did make it to our destination alive and in one piece. But seriously, if you're going to run a business, make sure your employees are courteous, helpful, understand English, and problem solvers. Plus, they should never type GPS in the computer while driving. So dangerous. 

And that concludes my Supern Shuttle rant/review.

Jumping into Adventure or Playing it Safe?

If you were told by someone that you really trusted that they wanted you to move to a foreign island and help them with a venture that may, or may not, prove fruitful, would you go? If all expenses were paid and you had a place to live and a job to work? But you'd have to leave in the next month, pack up everything, say goodbye to your loved ones, and leave everything you've ever know. Would it be a sad good bye to your past life with a cathartic start over of new hope or a gut wrenching self deliberation that has you wishing to go, but playing it safe and staying?

People are often asked to make life changing decisions and I think that we always want to go with the one that sounds the best to us, the most fun or adventurous, but then our brains get the best of our inhibitions and start to tell us that what we want and what is stable for us might not necessarily be one and the same. How do you make the decision that keeps you happy, but also gives you no regrets? Is this a catch 22; trying to eat your cake too?

I sometimes think that freewill sucks because you never know if you're making the right choice, but if you jump and go for it, sometimes it turns out alright or leads to things that will make it all better and sometimes you fall, fall hard, but doesn't that also add a notch to your life story, build up your character and help you choose a different path next time? Maybe all our various paths are there and we were always meant to choose the one that we chose because it lead us to another path, our life's path? I guess we'll never know as there are no true 2nd chances or do overs. Just moving forwards and living life to the fullest.

So again, would you open your arms wide and jump into the fantastical unknown or keep on with the daily mundane? Maybe your mundane is what keeps you ticking and therefore it is your adventure. I'm just curious and thought I would express a psychological question to everyone out there. I'm sure you've all wished you had an opportunity to just up and leave your life and start new somewhere else, so if the chance ever came, would you take it or let it pass you by? Who would you trust enough to follow into the unknown?

Look to my other blog

So, I'm currently chronicling my adventures in Scotland and Ireland on my other blog. So if you're checking this blog for updates, please look at: esinick.blogspot.com. Thanks! :)

Optimism and Chotskis

I'm moving again. It's been 5 or 6 years since the last time. The longest I've stayed anywhere, ever. Wow, time flies. I remember the days when I moved 2-3 times a year. Whether it was from college to home for the summer and then to a new dorm at the beginning of the semester, or moving with my parents from apartment to apartment, or from changing jobs and cities, I've been a vagabond. Not that I particularly love the art of wrapping everything in paper towels, newspapers, or magazines (I'm cheap, so whatever is free or easy to come by is my packing "popcorn") and hauling all my crap up and down stairs after begging my friends to work for food - pizza mostly, while fending off a hernia, I've just had the urge to move on.

I kind of relate to the movie, "Chocolat", where the main character moves with the East Wind. It calls to her gypsy nature and says, "time to visit another place...there's much more to see." Maybe I'm an honorary gypsy? Staying in one place too long makes me complacent, which in any normal person is what everyone strives to achieve, a steady happiness or safeguard, but in me, it's a death wish. I can't just settle down and stay...what of all the countries to visit, the people to meet, the stories to tell, the memories to make, and the inspirations that lead to new creations?

I'm sitting here wrapping all my delicate knick knacks in paper towels, studying each one before it's incased in Bounty, reminiscing about where they came from and what they mean to me. I guess the tedious task of making sure everything is packed safely away for transportation gives me the opportunity to truly see everything that I have and to appreciate all the things that I've managed to accomplish. There are so many mementos, but to me, each one is special. A small purple clay chair I bargained for at my very first craft fair, little micro cars that I played with everyday when I was seven, lots of toy devils given to me by the people who know me best, a wooden "tuk-tuk" bought in Thailand during my semester aboard in college, a photo strip of my sister and I sticking our tongues out, and many more colorful keepsakes. Memories are the key to living forever and possibly staying young.

I guess if I get past the annoyance of begging the grocery store employees for their banana boxes, not seeing the sun while stuffing books in overflowing boxes, sneezing from the accumulation of all the dust I missed in my last "room cleaning", and the general, "oh crap, where do I even begin?!", moving isn't so bad. It allows me to "spring clean" and rearrange my furniture in my new place. I get to experience different coffee shops and restaurants, drive 15 minutes to work instead of an hour and 20 minutes, sleep in a little or rather get up and exercise, have my friends visit me at home (because to them, driving to the west side is "far"), explore a different place, and create new memories.

Hum, I intended to write this blog on how much I hate moving, but I guess when my figurative pen hit the paper, my true opinions came to light. There is of course a silver lining to everything, but I just figured I was forever the pessimist when not combated by someone else's dark thoughts (then I turn to an optimist because really, someone has to debate the other side), but I guess optimism snuck up on me. Strange...I guess with this new move, I'm subconsciously changing as well. Maybe that's what they call maturing?

Anyhow, I'm turning into a procrastinator, sneaking away to write while half my shelves still have chotskis on them, but hey, everyone needs a break now and then.