CAR #61

Last night I arrived around midnight at JFK sad that my trip to California had come to an end. I fished my three suitcases off of the baggage claim belt only to walk by a slew of paparazzi ferociously snapping pics of Gwen Stefani with baby in toe. It was my second celeb sighting in the same trip. When I arrived in California a week ago, I was waiting just a seat a way from Will Farrell at the baggage claim at LAX.

I crossed the street to the taxi line only to find the line winding three times over. Yuck. I fished out the number for our company car service, Utag, and made a reservation for immediate pick up. I could barely hear the dispatcher on the line amongst the traffic and crowds, but I swore she said my car, Car #61, would be arriving at post “C” in ten minutes. Not too shabby. I waited under the sign reading “C” and not three minutes later a driver arrived flashing a fabulous red sign in the window with the word “Bell.” Sweet! That was so fast. I could not help but be impressed that they had even gone to the trouble of printing out my name so quickly and professionally. The number on the sign said 161, not 61, but perhaps I had misheard the dispatcher through the blaring horns outside the airport.

The driver helped me load up my luggage and I confirmed with him one more time, “the car is for Catherine Bell, right?”

“Bell, yes,” he replied in broken English. I settled myself in the back seat and off we went down the Van Wyck Expressway toward Manhattan. About 15 minutes into the ride, the driver’s phone rang. It was his boss yelling at him that his customer was still waiting curbside and was furious. Where was he?”

At this point the driver looked back at me and asked me my name for the second time. “Catherine Bell,” I replied.

“Oh no…I am in deep trouble now. Huge mix-up! The name of the car service is Bell. The sign was not for you, but the company’s name!” That explained the very professionally printed sign. Hmmm.

“I’m turning around now,” he told the dispatcher. The dispatcher told him he was too late and that he had sent another car. The driver frantically called the angry passenger and begged her to let him pick her up explaining if he did not make the pick up he would be fired. Yikes. I felt awful.

He asked if he could take me home then so he would not loose out on the $60. I had to tell him he would have to return me to the airport, because I had already pre-paid a car service on my corporate card to Utag. My correct driver was most likely there and waiting, wondering where the hell I was. Grudgingly he turned the car around and drove me back to the terminal.

As we rounded the bend toward Arrivals Area “C” we pulled up directly behind Utag Car #61. I guess the dispatcher did say #61 after all. What a coincidence. “That’s my driver!” I exclaimed. The Bell Driver began frantically honking at the Utag driver. Just then my cell phone rang and the dispatcher asked my location. “I am right behind Car #61. Have him pull over immediately.” We were stopped at a light so I snapped my cell closed, jumped out of the car and ran up to the Utag car, giving him a few quick knocks to the passenger window. “You’re my driver. I AM BELL!”

Both cars pulled off to the curb and we made the luggage switch. My stomach hurt for the Bell Driver and the look of despair on his face. Out of guilt I gave him a tip for his efforts and apologized for the mix up, though I know it was both of our faults. Hopefully his boss would understand the unfortunate Bell mix-up.

Once safely nestled into Car #61 and back on the Van Wyck Expressway, I began to ponder the “Bell” coincidence and came to the conclusion that although Bell has served me well for 30 years, this must be a sign that I should officially make the name change to Ellis.