Any one who has flown for business knows how stressful it can be. Last year I got to fly to Atlanta for my first business trip. The whole excursion was a bunch of firsts for me, so I couldn't wait to go. I was to leave on a Thursday to install a new phone system for one of our companies, test and train the staff, stay the weekend and fly out on Tuesday. Sounds pretty straight forward, (I have learned nothing is straight forward anymore). I packed my bags, got the rental car and headed to the twin cites to begin my journey. I got to the airport around 5 pm, went to the counter to check in and guess what? My reservation code would not work. After 30 minutes with the check in lady (not sure what you call them now days) I got my boarding pass and got through security. "That's the worst of it" I thought...yeh right!! As I walk up to the gate I take a look at the plane through the window. This thing looks like some 1945 WWII bomber that was taken out of storage just for my flight. The inside was worse, it smelled like a cramped hospital waiting room full of flu victims. I made my way to one of the last rows (not the very last row, that was reserved for the crying baby behind me) but one right next to the, you guessed it, ENGINE! I took my seat on the isle, then gave a little wave and said "hi" to the vary attractive lady next to the window. As we got closer to departure my luck had to change and sure enough here comes this sweaty guy who looks like he just did a forty yard dash across the airport. I looked around to see if there was any other empty seats, no such luck. He squeezes his 300 lbs frame between me and miss hotie and proceeds to take off his coat exposing the four gallon wet stains under his arms. Hang on it gets better.... Half way thru the flight he orders a drink, and as he as he turned to talk to his new best friend sitting by the window he spills the beverage all the way down my leg. He then slurps the last of the drink, and proceeds to tell me where all the strip clubs in Atlanta reside. Now what the hell am i supposed to do with that information! We finally land and I make it off the plane smelling like I just stumbled out of one of those local hangouts that were so elegantly described to me earlier in the trip. I get to the rental car kiosk and present my managers credit card for my car and I'm told...."ahh this aint your card buddy, so you aint getting a no car"! WTF!! So lets take inventory so far...Sat in front of a screaming baby, endured a stinky drunk guy with a potty mouth, I smell like a wino, have two hours to drive and no one is going to rent me a car. FANTASTIC!!! I assessed my situation and decided to turn on my southern charm. (Spent the first 5 years of my life in southern Texas, I guess that qualifies.) I took a chance and got on a bus that dropped me off at a different rental place only a few short miles away. I walked up to the counter and smiled like I owned the place, pulled out the card and said "Howdy Mame I'd like to rent one of your nicest cars". She didn't blink twice "We'll get you out of here in no time flat Mr. Thompson". She handed me the keys to a beautiful 2003 Mitsubishi eclipse that looked like it had been used in a scene from "Days of Thunder", gave me a wink and said "we'll see ya'll on Tuesday". I don't think James Bond could have been any smoother. The rest of the trip went good. I got the phones installed, had my fill at the local Waffle House and made it back home on the same credit card and big smile. Just goes to prove that when your in a jam and things look bleak "Kill them with Kindness"
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