How Kind Employees From Hertz and United Airlines Totally Made My Night

I'm driving up Interstate 71 toward the Cleveland airport. It's been a long day, and I need time to think tonight on my flights home.

At Rocky River Drive, I wheel into the BP station to gas up my rental car. It's a few minutes before 5:00 pm and my flight departs Hopkins at 6:10. Running early, by my standards. Everything is fine.

At the rental center, a friendly Hertz employee checks me out and soon I'm waiting on a bench for a shuttle bus. It must be shift change, because it's about 5:15 till a bus arrives and we're headed to the airport. I'm still tuned in on my phone to the board meeting I left early to catch this flight.

The bus drops us at the airport and I take the elevator that comes out by a Pre-Check security point. There's no one in line. The TSA agent motions that all he needs is my ID. I cut my phone call and reach for my wallet.

It's 5:20, and it is panic time. My wallet (with my ID) is nowhere! 

I frantically dig through the pockets of my luggage. Nothing.

I do some quick calculating. Should I keep digging through my luggage, or race back to the rental facility? If I can get back on the bus in 5 minutes, it's another 5-7 minutes to Hertz. Maybe if I call ahead, they can put my wallet by the front counter, and I can ride back on the same bus.

I decide to race back.

I make it down to the shuttle bus and unbelievably, there's a long line. How is this possible? I thought people weren't flying anymore? I'm third in line when the driver says, "The next bus will be here in 4 minutes."

I've already been checking Uber on my phone. They can't get me to the rental facility until 5:32, and I'm not certain they'll wait outside while I try to get my wallet. I wait for the next bus.

I try calling Hertz, but get an unhelpful lost and found voicemail that says if you've lost something within the last 30 days you need to first go to their website. What about something you lost in the last 30 minutes?!

I call again and choose the customer service option, but get nowhere. Oh well, when I get to the rental facility I'll just make a mad dash to the car return area and see if my car is still there.

The bus pulls up to the facility and I dive off, jogging past long lines at the counters. Out in the lot, two workers are talking. 

"I just dropped off a white Chevy Malibu and I left my wallet in it," I say frantically.

"Hang tight. The transport guy will be here in a minute." 

The "transport" guy ambles up. He just recently brought a white Malibu back from the car wash. My heart sinks as I imagine him gleefully swiping my wallet. I know, judgmental, but that is what goes through my mind.

I race toward the freshly washed Malibu. Yes, it looks like mine. I pop open the driver's door, and search frantically. Nothing. I look under the seats, beside the seats, in the center console. Absolutely nothing. 

I turn on the car to make sure it's the same one. Yep, 40,000 miles, it's the one.

The world is slowing down now, and I'm calm. It's about 5:40. My flight leaves in 30 minutes and I'm still at an offsite rental facility with no ID. There's no need to hurry any more.

Frankly, now I'm more worried about my wallet than my travel plans. How am I going to get a hotel, or food, or anything? How much hassle will it be to cancel my credit cards and apply for a new driver's license?

I find the friendly Hertz guy who checked me out originally. He tells me to wait for the service manager. As we wait, he provides hilarious tales of the things people leave behind in rental cars. I laugh freely, and the world keeps slowing down.

The service manager pulls up, and wouldn't you believe it, he's holding my wallet in his outstretched hand! No one stole it, they've carefully tagged it, and brought it back! Unbelievable!

I won't make my flight but that's okay, at least I have my wallet and my ID. I am back in business.

I wait in quiet peace on a bench for the next bus. It pulls up a few minutes later. I'm the only rider. In non-hub airports like Cleveland, the action starts slowing down early these days. The driver drops me at the front doors of Hopkins right before 6:00pm.

So close, and yet so far away.

I've never been one to give up easily. I head to security, and am on the other side in a few minutes. My gate is C27, which is like a half a mile away. My heart sinks again. 

I ask a policewoman about getting a cart. She says there's one in the direction I'm headed, right by Auntie Annie's.

I get to Auntie Annie's but there's no cart. Two policemen tell me, "Keep going, you should run into it." 

In an embarrassing scene to all humanity, my out-of-shape accountant figure motors toward C27 like a disabled hippopotamus. If you've flown much, you can picture it. Not pretty.

I run, until I have no air, then I just galumph. I remember this was the last flight of the night. The airport is quiet, and there's no cart.

Finally, I come panting and sweating up to C27. I can see the screen from a distance: BOARDING CLOSED.

It's about 6:05.

There are two friendly United agents by the counter.

"I guess I'm -puff- too late -puff-, right?

"Sorry, Mr. Hoover (they know my name - I must have been the only one missing). Yes, it's all closed."

I can see my plane sitting there with the jet bridge pulled away and the doors closed. There is my ride, just a few feet beyond the glass. So close, and yet so far away. The warm lights of home are disappearing.

"Where are you headed tonight?" The one agent asks.

"I was -puff- headed to Wausau."

"Maybe American or Delta have something," they say between themselves. They tap on the keyboard. I can tell they are very kind and want to help me, but we all know Cleveland is shutting down for the night. My travel plans are doomed.

Then one of the agents looks out the window and sees something. I can't believe what I hear next: 

"We don't always do this, but get ready, we'll get you on!"

One grabs the radio, talking to the flight attendants on the plane: "I see you have a fuel ladder or something still by the plane...

"We're going to make a passenger's night, and open up again."

One agent is tapping on the computer, while the other races toward the jet bridge. The door slams behind her. I'm left with the other agent who does a few things, and then opens the jet bridge door for me.

"Don't I need to scan my ticket?"

"No, we already cancelled it. Just go!"

I don't need further prompting.

On the jet bridge I catch up with the other agent. We wait together for the plane door to open.

"Now" she tells me, "everyone's going to be looking at you." 

"That's okay," I say. 

"That's right," she says kindly.

The plane door opens, I offer profuse thanks, stumble down the aisle, and crash into 11D.  

It's 6:09 pm. I'm on my plane, headed to Chicago.

As we take off into the sunset, I'm already writing. By the time we land (ahead of schedule) at ORD, this article is pretty much done. I flip off airplane mode and there's a reply text from my wife:

They [the gate agents] must be angels. Tell them thanks from your wife and seven children!

I don't think they're angels, just kind people. But either way, it's too late to pass along my family's thanks now.

I'm standing in the bustle of O'Hare. It hits that I'm here because of the integrity and kindness of total strangers. I feel a few tears well up behind my eyes.

Hertz, United - I'm sure you spend millions urging people to travel with you. You've developed appealing taglines like "Welcome to the Friendly Skies" (United). I'm sure you both have loyalty programs, to keep people interested in you.

None of those things ever really moved me.

What moved me, was a simple act of integrity (Hertz), a simple act of kindness (United), a little human touch. Here I am, cheering for your global operations.

Skip the marketing budget - you don't have to spend another dollar to convince me the skies truly are friendly when I travel with you!

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