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I parked the car in an abandoned lot next to a gutted out building. The abandoned
lot was filled with broken glass from emptied liquor and beer bottles mixed in with
some gravel and dirt. I grabbed my CD player and my electronic organizer, and I
headed out of the car, barefoot, across the gravel and broken glass up a small
embankment to the phone beside the street. It seems that the pay phone decision
makers in Puerto Rico think that all pay phones must be right next to a main street.
Thankfully, this street was not as busy and noisy as the streets in central Humacao.
I put my headphones over my ears, put a Bob Marley CD in the CD player, and
began to place my calls. My first call was to the MCI 700 number, to ask if my toll
free service was available yet, and if not, when would it be available.

I reached into my pocket and grabbed a dime to dial the toll free number. Normal
pay phones in the U.S. in 1991 didn’t require any deposit to make a toll free call. But
in Puerto Rico, in order to place any type of call from a pay phone you had to first
deposit a dime before you were even given a dial tone. So I deposited my dime
while noticing that I only had a nickel left. The dime goes in, I get the dial tone and I
call the 700 number (which is also a toll free number) after which my dime is returned.
Once again MCI is unable to find out any information about connecting my personal
800 numbers. So I end up calling my regular long distance carrier Sears MCI. Sears
MCI is just the same as MCI only I am billed monthly on my Sears credit card instead
of directly through MCI. I also deal with a separate customer service unit than a
regular MCI customer does.

By now I am working with only two fellows at Sears MCI who have been expediting the
connection of my 800 numbers. I call and either talk to Michael or Patrick to see
what’s up. They needed to check into the hold up and I would have to call them
back later. No problem.

Once again I realized that I would be on the phone for quite a while and as I learned
from my phone stint at the airport, it gets quite uncomfortable standing at a pay
phone for hours and there was no way I could pull the car up to the phone to sit on
the hood at this location like I had done last night. So I began to search the area for
something to sit on. I walked over to a group of workers waiting for a jitney to take
them to the sugar cane fields to begin the days work. I asked them if anyone knew
where I might find something I could use to sit on. Anything to sit on, like a box or
something. No one knew of anything or they didn’t understand me. The jitney came
and took them away and I headed back to the pay phone.

As I was placing my next call a man came to the phone and asked me if I was looking
for something to sit on. I replied with excitement, “Yes”. He must have overheard my
earlier request. He heads off across the intersection into the yard of a quaint, white
Catholic Church and heads out into the back as I follow along. He looks around but
sees nothing. He then tries to get into the church, which was locked-up with only a
small padlock. I look at him quizzically and tell him with a big smile, “I don’t need a
seat that badly!” So we head on back to the pay phone and he asks me about my
CD player. I explain to him how it works and then I let him listen to it. While listening
to the player he comes up with the idea that I could get a milk crate from the small
store just up around the corner. He said that the owner had plenty of crates and he
should be willing to let me use one.

I decided that was a good idea and besides I was hungry. So I went to the car and
grabbed the only cash I had with me, a twenty-dollar bill, and I left this fellow to sit
and watch over my belongings and the open car as he bobbed his head in time to
Bob Marley on the CD player. I run off down the street and reach a bend in the road
leading over a hill. I stop at the crest of the hill and turn around to see if the guy is
really going to watch my belongings or if he was planning something else. To my
surprise he was just sitting there on the guardrail near the phone, listening
contentedly to the CD player. I continued on around the corner and down to the
store out of his sight.

As I approached the store which was just a small wooden shack, I noticed several
men gathered around a covered area in front of the shack. I walked up to the open-
air counter and began to ask the store owner if I could borrow a milk crate to sit on.
While asking my question I was interrupted by a couple of the guys standing around
the store. One of them beat the other in telling me politely that the owner doesn’t
speak any English. The fellow who offered me this bit of information then graciously
offered to translate for me. So I explained to him that I planned to use the pay
phone up the street for quite a while and I wanted something to sit on. I wished him
to explain this to the owner and ask him if I could borrow a milk crate which I
promised I would bring back just as soon as I was finished with it.

The fellow explained my wish to the owner who replied by shaking his head and
saying emphatically, “No.” The fellow translating told me the owner said he doesn’t
have any milk crates.

I look around and I notice right beside the owner is a small rickety old wooden stool.
So I asked the fellow to ask the owner if I could borrow the stool which I would bring
back just as soon as I was finished using it. The fellow again expresses my wish to
the owner who once again shakes his head and says, “No.”

So, standing there grimacing wondering what to do next, I came up with what I
thought was a great idea. This man is a store owner. He’s a pretty shrewd man.
Indeed he’s a businessman. A business man wants money. So I grab the twenty-
dollar bill from my pocket and completely forgetting about my hunger I offered him
the twenty dollars for his, in my opinion, fifty-cent stool. I explained to my translator
friend that I would even return the stool when I finished and the twenty dollars would
still be the store owner’s. The fellow translated my offer to the owner with the group
of men around the store now drawing nearer and intently watching the trade about to
take place.

The owner, upon the end of the translation, happily shook his head and once again
uttered a slow, flat, cool, resounding “No.”

I turned and looked at the fellow who translated the deal for me and stared at him
with a puzzled look shaking my head. Likewise, he stared back at me with the same
mirrored look of puzzlement and he shrugged his shoulders. The crowd of men
broke into a buzz of Spanish and too seemed to be astonished at the store owner’s
abstinence.

Once again forgetting my hunger, I took the twenty dollars, gave it to the fellow who
had translated my requests, and asked him to find me something for me to sit on,
anything to sit on. I told him I was at the corner pay phone up the street. He took
the bill and told me he’d find me something and he’d be there in a few minutes. I ran
in my bare feet back on up the road to the phone. As I ran up the hill back to the
pay phone, I realized that a strange event had just taken place but it didn’t really
quite register just how strange it was at the time. I just let it go off to the back of my
mind to be processed later.

Back at the pay phone I find the fellow I left behind just where I left him – sitting on
the guardrail listening to Bob Marley. He asks me, "Where’s the milk crate?" and I
explain what happened at the store. He laughs and nods his head as if he knew that
would have happened. A couple of minutes later, my translator friend arrives with a
milk crate, which I set in front of the pay phone. I thank him for his quick service and
continue on with my phone calls as the two men headed on down the road after
writing their names in my travel book.

Before I get a call off, I am once again interrupted. This time, some kids (three older
girls and one young boy) dressed in their school uniforms on their way to school,
stop to see what I am up to. They ask me questions about my organizer and my CD
player – both items of which they had never seen. One of them wants to hear a CD
and then they all wanted to hear it. Then I remember that I have a head phone
splitter and an extra set of headphones in the car, so I explain to the boy where the
splitter and the headphones are in the car. He runs off to the car to get them and he
brings them back up to the rest of us. I plug the extra set in and Kiko and his sister
Maria sit and listen Bob Marley and the Wailers together - and both begin moving
their bodies in time to the music. Then the other two kids take their turn listening to
the CD player.

I have them all sign my red travel book and then I decide I should take their picture.
So once again I explain to Kiko where my still camera is in the car and he runs off to
get it. Kiko runs up the embankment with the camera and the kids run across the
street and I take their picture. Then I remember my video camera and send Kiko off
once more to the car to get the video camera. He comes back and I set the video
camera on the guardrail and we all go across the street to be in the camera’s view -
waving to the camera and other inane things we do in front of a video camera. After
this they headed off to school and I took one final picture as they waved good-bye
heading up the hill.

Back at the phone I chose to call Kirk’s home phone to hopefully get a message off
of his answering machine from Tami. She was to call Kirk's answering machine and
leave her husband Danny’s flight itinerary so that I would know when to meet him in
San Juan. So I began to call Kirk. To connect to MCI I had to deposit the dime, dial
the 1-800-950-1022 number, receive my dime back and wait a the 8 seconds for a
new dial tone from the MCI system.

At a normal pay phone, after the dial tone comes back on, I would just have to dial
zero, the area code, and then the phone number of the party I desired. But on these
silly Puerto Rican phones I had to re-deposit the dime before I could continue
dialing. So, I re-deposit the dime but instead of staying in the phone and activating
the touch-tones, the dime came right on through doing nothing. I tried again and the
same thing happened. Third time was charm and I was finally able to get through to
Kirk’s home phone. The phone rings and I’m expecting for an immediate pickup by
the answering machine since it is only 3:30 a.m. in San Diego. The phone continues
ringing and on the fourth ring Kirk’s groggy voice comes on the line, "Hello."
I probably should have hung up but as I explained to him I was only trying to
determine if Tami had called and left me a message on his answering machine. Kirk
was not happy with my phone call for the obvious reason. He told me there were no
messages. I apologized for the disturbance and said good-bye.

Next, I tried to get in touch with Carlos but the problems with the phones in his area
remained the same as the night before.

Next, I called American Airlines, the airline Danny and his son were flying on. I
reached a helpful reservations operator in Miami who was able to help me determine
the time a flight left Los Angeles last night traveling to Miami and then traveling on to
San Juan. She determined Danny might be in San Juan at 11:00 a.m. today. She
offered to leave a message for him at the gate in Miami to meet me at the San Juan
gate which I accepted.

Next, I wanted to make a series of calls to persons in the states I needed to reach in
connection with the concert. Normally, as I explained earlier it is easy to make a
series of calls using a calling card one’s self. But, the pay phones in Puerto Rico
that I encountered didn’t work properly so I wasn’t able to complete the required
number entry in time and so the MCI operator would come on the line instead. So
for most of my calls this morning I was assisted by unwanted but helpful and friendly
MCI operators. This is how my morning went in dealing with these operators:After
dialing many numbers myself and trying to get the dime to turn the touch tones on
an operator comes on line with the words, “This is operator number 111. How may I
help you?”

In an attempt to cool myself down because I had just dialed a bunch of numbers
myself which were now wasted and the fact that I didn’t want the “help” of an
operator anyway, I said in a friendly manner, “You can help me by first giving me
your name.”

She replied, “This is operator number 111,” to which I responded, “No, I mean what
is your name, not your operator number. Your first name will be fine since I already
know you can’t give me your last name.” She replied, “I can’t give you my name sir.
Did you wish to place a call?”

I answered that question in my head, “Of course I want to make a call; why else
would I be talking with you?” Not wishing to press the issue I gave her the phone
number I wished her to dial, repeating it a couple of times until she got the number
right, and then my calling card number. All of the numbers made me dizzy. The call
goes through and she goes off the line. The phone rings but no one answers. I
hang up and I must start the dialing process all over again to make my next call.
Next, I call ???. I attempt to complete the call as usual but I must have had trouble
getting the dime to turn the phone on in time when it was time to dial my calling card
number, so I get an unwanted operator. The operator opens the conversation with,
“This is operator number 254. How may I help you?”

I think to myself, “You’d really help me by putting me back to the computer system so
I can dial the call myself so I won’t have to start all over to complete my follow on
call.” Instead, I give him the phone number of my party and then my calling card
number, which he needed a second time.

While we are waiting for the call to be approved by the computer system I break the
silence by asking him for his name. He states his name is “Operator number 254.”

I laugh and say, “That’s your name?” to which he replies “Yes sir.”

I say, “No, really what’s your name.” He responds, “I can’t give you that but my
operator number is 254.”

I ask him why he can’t give me his name and he tells me it is a policy. So I asked him
who made the policy but he didn’t know.

He apparently had trouble with my calling card number so he asks me for the phone
number and my calling card number again.

I take a deep breath and repeat the numbers to him once again.

This time while waiting I ask him if he would mind staying on the line to see if
anybody answered. If no one answered I would like him to place a different call for
me. This way I wouldn’t have to give another operator my calling card number all
over again and I wouldn’t have to re-dial the 800 number. He chimes in, “I can’t do
that sir.” I explained to him the difficulties I have been having using the phones in
Puerto Rico and that I would really appreciate this added service. So he responds
with, “Here, let me put you through to a supervisor...”, and away I went to the
supervisor.

The supervisor begins with, “Hello, this is operator number 315. May I help you
place a call?” Stupidly, I ask her if she still has all of the numbers I just gave
operator number 254. Of course she didn’t. I look down at the ground and close my
eyes and take another deep breath. I give her the long chain of numbers and the
call goes through. Again, nobody answers, so I hang up the phone.

Luckily, someone standing beside me wanted to use the pay phone allowing me to
take a break. I also lucked out that they had an extra nickel because on my last call
the phone kept my only dime. I matched their nickel up with my last nickel to
continue my calling. Now at each step in the calling process I had to get two nickels
to stay in the phone to turn the touch tones on. It must have looked ridiculous
because half of the time the nickels just kept coming back out and I would put them
back in as quick as possible to keep from getting an MCI operator. I usually lost out
and an operator interrupted my call.

During the break I decided I would begin a list of the operators I talked to in my
personal organizer and log their responses to the question “What is your name?”
with the intent on speaking with MCI management some day soon about this peculiar
policy.

On my next call, the operator comes on the line and says, “This is operator number
302. How may I help you?” So, I type into my organizer this operator’s “number”
while realizing just how silly of a programmed question she was instructed to ask.
Her programmer must have been stupid. They know I wish to place a call or I wouldn’
t be talking to them. They also know the first thing they need is the number I wish to
dial. Why can’t the operator just ask me for the number. Instead, I have to tell the
operator I wish to place a call after which she or he asks me for the number (just a
software engineer thinking here).

So, to break the program I ask her for her name. She tells me her name is
“Operator number 302.”

I say, “No, I already know your operator number. Now I would like to know your
name.”

Again she responds, “Operator number 302.”

I say, “No, I would like to know the name your parents gave you, the one that’s on
your birth certificate. Just your first name will be O.K.”

She replies, “I can’t give you that sir.”

I ask her why she can’t give me her name and she tells me it’s against the policy. I
ask her if she knew who made the policy but she didn’t know who made the policy.
At this point she asks me, “Did you wish to place a call sir?” To which I respond,
“Yes, but I’d also like to know your first name.”

She takes the phone number I wish to have her dial and then my calling card number
which she didn’t get the first time so I had to repeat it. This time I repeated it like a
computer, very slow and metallic, and she got it in a cinch. I also tell her my first and
last name, which she was able to repeat almost instantaneously without a problem. I
guess using a human name to validate my account would be all too difficult for a
computer?

While she is entering all of my numbers I ask her if she could stay on the line
because of all of the problems I have been having with the pay phones in Puerto
Rico and the MCI system. I asked her kindly if she could just give me a bit of extra
service since I have been a faithful MCI customer since the AT&T break up. She
agreed to stay on the line until someone answered but she wouldn’t stay on if a
conversation ensued. I got an ounce of service; I was amazed.

No one answered so she placed my next phone call for me but this time she wouldn’t
stay on the line. Unfortunately she dialed the wrong phone number though. I hung
up, took some more deep breaths and rested before my next call.

On the next call the same process as above was basically repeated. I asked the
operator for her name, which after pressing her a few times she actually gave me
her name. I entered the information in my organizer and when I asked her to stay on
the line she sent me to a supervisor because she couldn’t do that. And, yes, I lost all
of the numbers I had just given her.

I explained to the supervisor that I was a very good MCI customer and that I had
been with the company for a long time. I asked her if she could assign me an
operator to give me some special service just this once. I explained to her the
situation with the pay phones here in Puerto Rico. I told her that after all, MCI is a
service company and that their sole purpose as a company is to provide service. I
told her that all I want was some extra service today and I was willing to pay extra for
that service. They could just charge it to my phone card like they do my phone calls.
After I finished my explanation she really appeared concerned with my problem but
she needed to get approval from a supervisor. So, she placed me on hold. After
what seemed forever but was probably no more than eight minutes, I hung up the
phone since it was now nearing the time for me to head to San Juan to meet with
Danny by 11 a.m. and I had a couple more real calls to make.

I took a deep breath, looked out across the road, and suddenly, for reasons
unknown, some interesting thoughts came into my mind. It was as if my mind was
filled with a supersaturated solution that was suddenly perturbed and the ideas
began to crystallize before my eyes. I recall seeing in my mind a row of doors, an
infinite row of doors like you might see if you had a mirror in a mirror where you see
yourself over and over again. I then see keys falling from the sky and entering the
locks of each of the doors and one by the one the doors were opening. The best I
can recall, the thoughts that came were as follows:

MCI, a service company whose sole purpose is service, could not give me service,
extra service for which I would have gladly paid. In fact, all anybody at MCI could say
was, “I can’t do that.”

This thought correlated with the next thought.

The smartest man in the little town of Buena Vista, Puerto Rico, a store owner, a
business man who is theoretically only driven by money, would not take a large gain
for hardly any loss, actually no loss since I would return the item. Today it seemed
he was the stupidest man in town.

Then, I realized what I had signed on a contract in Fort Lauderdale when I
purchased the phones. I didn’t take the time then to think about what I was signing
but I suddenly realized I had signed a contract which said that each cellular phone
was worth $800 but I would only have to pay $400 as long as I retained service for
six months with Cellular One. Was the phone really ever worth $800? This thought
correlated with the next thoughts.

The computer industry in its infancy sold computers at high prices but gave the
“instructions” that guided the machine away. Today these instructions are called
“software” and the computers are known as “hardware”. As time progressed the
industry discovered they could make far more money selling the software than they
could selling the hardware.

Nintendo, a seller of a home video “computer” gaming system, at this time has a
monopoly on the game cartridges that can be placed into their machine. Another
company would have to create their own video “computer” to market games they
wished to create. Basically, the game cartridges are just the “software” needed to
make the machines (hardware) work. Without the cartridges you have nothing.
It then occurred to me that software is basically a “service”, where service is basically
a human function.

All of the above thoughts gelled to become the following statement that I wrote into
my red travel book:

There's more than plenty to go around. Hand out the HW and provide

services for profit.

Realizing at the time that this was not a totally new idea, I later took the time to
indicate this by writing above the statement in my travel book, “M & E were half
correct.” M & E stands for Marx and Engels and I was referring to the Marx and
Engels' belief which I learned in college, that in their time they felt there were enough
‘goods for everybody to have one of everything. They firmly believed everybody
should be able to own and has the right to own one of every item currently being
produced. They just hadn’t thought about providing services or ‘software’ for the
‘goods’ for a fee.

Not having any time to analyze or judge the thoughts I placed the next two calls
without playing my little game with the operators and ended my calling for this
morning.

Before I left the phone booth that day a few other fellows past by to talk to me and to
ask me for work. Why they thought I had work for them I don’t know. But their need
has stuck in my mind to this day. Some of them signed my red travel book with some
adding their phone numbers as well. I also kept track of who I was meeting in my
electronic organizer.

I packed my belongings in the car and headed back to Humacao carrying a young
man into town with me so he could look for work.

I dropped the young man off and I headed to Hotel Palace to check out. Next to the
hotel there was no place to park. Following the parking habits of the residents I
pulled the car up over the curb and onto the sidewalk at the corner and I ran
hurriedly upstairs to my hotel room to gather my belongings. I rushed back down to
the car only to find a policeman didn’t like how I had parked. I guess I hadn’t parked
quite like the Puerto Ricans park. The laundry clerk had noticed all of this though
and held the policeman off until I came down stair. He had me pull my car into his
reserved business parking space which satisfied the policeman. In my rush to move
the car I just basically threw all of my belongings in the back seat. I went into the
laundry and picked up my clean clothes, paid the clerk, and I headed out to the car.
As I got in I noticed just up the street there was a flower shop. My thought was,
“What a great idea. I can send flowers to Carlos’ family since he had given me their
address. I can place a card on the flowers telling Carlos I was in Puerto Rico and
that he can call me at the Palmas del Mar in care of Aunt Lori’s room”.

I walked into the shop and after the experience of this morning, the first question I
asked of the woman was, “Do you know good service?" She was already at a
disadvantage however since she didn’t understand English very well. After
attempting to figure out what I was asking she finally answer shaking her head, “Si,
entiendo, good service”.

So then I tried to explain to her that I wished to send flowers to my friend in Villa
Alba. But unfortunately she didn’t know enough English to understand me and I
knew very little Spanish. So, she went down the street and got a shopkeeper who
did know English. As it turned out they didn’t know good service after all. She
couldn’t send flowers to Villa Alba even when I offered her a thousand dollars, which
I had but I wouldn’t have given her just to get a message through to Carlos. So I
gave up on this avenue to reach Carlos and headed to the airport to meet up with
Danny.

I drove toward the freeway and I suddenly got lost. Painfully, I could see the freeway
to San Juan up on the hill in front of me but I couldn’t find an entrance. I drove
through a residential area, passed a tiny market, and came to a freeway bridge that I
believed I could drive under, get to the other side of the freeway and enter it. I was
wrong though. Instead I ended up in a cul-de-sac. I turned around and I drove out
the way I came in. On my way back out I passed the market again and I noticed a
man sitting out in front of the store, so I stopped to ask him how to get to the
freeway, hoping he understood English. To my surprise, he spoke English very
well.

He began to explain the directions when I realized it would be very nice to have
someone with me today that could speak both Spanish and English. So, I asked him
if he had plans for the day. He replied “No, I’m not doing anything until later this
evening.” I then asked if he would mind driving to San Juan International Airport with
me to keep me from getting lost. I offered him twenty dollars for his services for the
day. He agreed and we headed on our way. He introduced himself as Edward. I
asked him how he came to speak English so well and he explained that he was once
in the Navy but he didn’t get along well with the commanding officer and so he quit.
On our way to the freeway we filled up on gas as well as several submarine
sandwiches and sodas. I finally got to eat some food.

We made it to Luis Muñoz Marin International Airport in San Juan in under an hour. I
parked the car in the open-air parking lot in the middle of the u-shaped airport
terminal. I then changed into business presentable clothes: my freshly cleaned
khaki polo shorts, a dress shirt and a pair of running shoes.

Edward and I headed off into the terminal to find Danny and his son. We went to the
American Airlines terminal and found that his plane was already in, so I had him
paged. He didn’t answer the page so I called his wife Tami in Malibu. I told her that
Danny and his son were now in San Juan but that Danny hadn’t answered the page.
She told me that it would be very easy for me to recognize them both if I saw them.
She explained, “They will be the only two people wearing a suit and tie and that his
son is over six-foot four”. So I arranged for an American Airlines Reservation
Manager, Juan, to escort me into the boarding area where the plane landed. We
walked past rows of travelers but I didn’t see them.

Their plane was scheduled to leave at 11:40 a.m., so my next plan was to have him
paged again starting at eleven twenty. Edward and I stood around waiting. At 11:20
American paged Danny again and this time he answered. His first question of me
was, “You're not here to serve me with a subpoena are you?” which I answered with
a surprised “No” and a laugh. I give him my name and explain how I know him and
his wife Tami. I let him know that Tami had suggested that I meet him here in San
Juan for a few minutes. So we agree to meet outside the security check area
leading into the American boarding area.

Edward and I waited outside the security check area for Danny to come out and talk
with me. Danny arrives, we shake hands and I inform him that I am considering the
possibility of constructing a cellular phone system on Jamaica.

He tells me as Tami had that he had just completed a market survey of placing such
a system on Jamaica and he found out that there were already three systems on
Jamaica and all three were working well. Then he said, “But the island I am going to
now, Dominica, has no cellular system. Let’s get together and talk about putting a
system on Dominica.”

I told him that sounded fine to me. He gave me the name of the hotel he was staying
at in Dominica and asked me to call him tonight. I told him that indeed I would be
calling. We shook hands and he headed back to catch his plane.

Edward and I then walked over to a circular kiosk of phones so that I could call a
large florist in San Juan who could send flowers to the address of Carlos’ family in
Villa Alba. I explained to Edward what I wished to do and he spoke to the florist for
me. When he told them he wished to send flowers to Villa Alba he was told they
couldn't do it. Next we called a flower shop near to Villa Alba. Again they couldn't
send flowers to Carlos' family. Finally, I decided I knew what to do. I would phone
my good friend and my old boss Rosy at the flower shop I used to deliver for in
Seattle. I knew she could pull this one off. I explained to her my problem, I gave her
the address Carlos had given me and I gave her the very long message to put on
the card which informed Carlos to call me tonight at Palmas del Mar in care of
Marsha's parents. Rosy believed it would be no problem. I thanked her for her
great service as usual and said good-bye. Strange that from Puerto Rico I would
have to call Seattle to order flowers to send to Puerto Rico. But whatever works,
works.

Only two things remained for Edward and me to do in San Juan. We needed to go to
Dollar Rent-a-car to exchange the small vehicle for a van and I needed to go to the
public phone company building to get my cellular phone turned on. It was only
shortly after noon and Edward wished to be home by four o'clock. That would have
been no problem on a normal day but today was not a normal day for me.

The reason I needed a larger vehicle was because last night when I told Marsha that
I had met a member of José Luis Rodriguez's band and that he had invited me to
attend one of his concerts, Marsha wanted to go with me. Not only that, she knew of
a couple friends of hers who also would want to go. So I decided a van would be in
order.

Edward and I pull into the Dollar rental lot and I walk in and I am greeted by Rosa,
the same girl I invited to the José Luis Rodriguez concert yesterday. I tell her that I
am definitely going to the concert tomorrow so that she should expect me to pick her
up tomorrow afternoon after she finishes work. I then explain to her that I wish to
rent a van instead of the compact car I had. She informs me however, that their
Dollar lot does not carry any vans. I then ask her if Dollar could get one from
another lot but she informs me that she’s not able to do that either. She then tells
me that the only rental company in the airport with vans is Budget Rent-a-car. She
points out the window to their office right next door. I ask her if it is a problem if I
return the car early to which she replied it is no problem. So I thank her and Edward
and I drive on over to the Budget rental office.

I enter the crowded Budget rental office and sit and wait my turn to be helped. A
group of couples from the states were arguing with the manager about a problem
they had with their rental vehicle for which he was now trying to get them to pay. He
keeps telling them that they somehow caused the damage to the transmission and
they keep telling him that they didn't. Eventually they take their problem outside of
the crowded building. While waiting, I took the time to talk with four guys from
Germany who had just arrived here in San Juan to go scuba diving. They explained
to me how exciting scuba diving was to them. I ended up taking their names and the
place they were staying here on the island in case Carlos and I wished to go scuba
diving sometime this week.

I was finally helped by Nora, the rental agent, and I explained to her that I wished to
rent a van. She tells me the name of the vehicle, a Chevy Lumina, and I agree that
is what I want. She takes my credit card and begins the rental process. A couple of
minutes later she informs me that my credit card is over the limit. I look at her a bit
puzzled because I knew that before I began traveling in February that I had a $1000
credit on the account and I knew that I hadn't spent above the $2000 limit plus that
credit. So she let me use her phone to call my bank in San Diego to find out why my
card was over the limit.