Driving Around Orlando

(Previous: Driving to Orlando)

After solving the fuel pump problem, we couldn't continue on our intended route (which meant about 15 miles to our hotel), because that would require crossing too many lanes of traffic too quickly. We had to take the ramp in front of us, and go around the long way.

This meant about 35 miles to our hotel, most of it on surface streets in Orlando that have traffic signals every 100 feet.

Here's how traffic signals in Orlando work: You sit, stopped at a red light, watching the next intersection, 100 feet away, sit empty with a green light.

Your light turns green. About a second later, the next light turns yellow. It turns red just as you get up to the intersection.

Repeat this process until you are out of Orlando. This is part of the city's program of discouraging tourists, who are not familiar with the traffic-signal-free routes through the city, from venturing out of those districts dedicated entirely to their use.

We eventually make it to our hotel, in the heart of the tourist district, in heavy tour bus traffic. As we're waiting for a light to change (maybe it's to acclimate visitors to waiting in line, which is after all the main thing you do in Orlando?), I notice that the car now has a pronounced 'lumpiness' in its ride. It feels like one of the tires is out of round.

In a car with Hydrolastic suspension, an out of round tire causes the whole car to pitch and roll like a dinghy in heavy seas. We lurch into the parking lot and leave the car for the night. I was not equal at that point to doing anything other than taking a shower and getting something to eat with Nicole's parents, who had driven to Orlando from their home near Tampa to hang out with us. The last time we had eaten, we'd been in Baltimore and it had been about 8:00 a.m. By the time we arrived at the hotel in Orlando, it was 9:00 p.m.

I wasn't able to just sit around, though. Remember when I said I'd left my camera on the plane? Well, the good people at Southwest Airlines did not steal it, as had happened with every other thing I'd ever left on an airplane. Instead, they flew the camera up to Orlando, and we picked it up at the airport (see photo). You generally have a better chance of recovering property that you left on a New York subway train than you have of ever seeing again anything you leave behind on an airplane. I tend to do this a lot when making connections. Once, in Denver, I realized when I reached my next flight that I'd left behind my headphones and a jacket. I told the United Airlines guy at the counter for my departing flight, but he couldn't help. If I went back to the other plane myself, I'd miss my flight. I got a number from United for their Denver lost and found department; the procedure is to leave a message on an answering machine describing what you lost and where you lost it, and they will call you back only if they find it. Well, I was able to describe the exact location, down to the seat number and aircraft tail number (I notice these things), but I never heard from them. They, unlike Southwest, clearly do not care -- something that shows up in most of their interactions with customers. I am even a United Grand Poobah frequent flier, too.

Rah! Rah! Southwest! They do that crazy thing with the boarding-by-mob instead of assigned seats, but other than that, as a customer you don't get the feeling that they despise you. This is quite an unusual thing in American commercial aviation these days. (I might point out here that Southwest Airlines also has a greater return on investment than United. United management does not appear to see much of a connection there.)

For the trip to the airport, we drove Nicole's stepmother's giant supercharged Buick Park Avenue. I do not think that a greater automotive contrast is possible than between the Austin and that Buick.

Next: Driving to Sanford