Scamming In Atlanta

Three of us set out from Baltimore with three Avis trucks to be delivered to Atlanta one late afternoon. We were advised to stay together, and we did until after a late supper in Richmond. Herschel and Jerrell wanted to catch a nap before continuing on. I left them behind and hauled ass. I arrived about mid-morning in Doraville, north of Atlanta, at the address on my delivery paperwork. It was an Avis Truck Rental place, all right, a brand new building, so new it wasn't open yet. The piece of paper taped to the door said it was opening soon, and included a phone number to call. This was 1977, ten years before cell phones, so I had to find a pay phone. The guy who answered gave me directions to the Avis place on Howell Mill Road, and I was there with my truck signed for and my CB radio, antenna and transporter tag in my truckin' bag well before noon.

I called several airlines to inquire about flights to Baltimore, and soon discovered that I didn't have enough expense money left to get home! I tried Amtrak and it was no better. The only thing I had money for was Greyhound, which involved a twenty hour trip starting in three hours. From the bus station I called my brother in Baltimore and explained the situation to him. He offered to Moneygram me enough for the plane, and that sounded good to me. It would take him a couple of hours to get it all sorted out and wired to me. The plane was at 7:30, so that was no problem.

When I got off the phone, there was a dazzling urbanite watching me. He couldn't help overhearing my half of the conversation. He told me he worked for Greyhound, and he could get me on that bus to Baltimore for free, for a fee. I declined, he kept talking, I kept declining and he kept talking until I finally agreed. He laid out the plan. He would vouch for me as a Greyhound mechanic visiting Atlanta who needed to get back to Baltimore. Employees rode for free. They would buy it because he would vouch for me. What the heck, I was in it for the adventure, right?
I went across the street to Western Union, collected my cash, and came back. He (I wish I could remember his name) took me through to the back where the bus to Baltimore was being readied for departure. He made a big show of my mechanichood and my urgent need to get back to Baltimore. The boss-man said, "Sure. Just go to the office and get your voucher, and come on board." Dazz folded. "Well, you can't say I didn't try!" I couldn't. I gave him twenty bucks for the fun, and hopped the MARTA train to the airport.

I bought my plane ticket and sat down to wait the hour or so until boarding. I hadn't been there long when Herschel and Jerrell came along. They were happy to see me. They went to the ticket counter and came away with tickets. "How did you have enough expense money?" I asked.
Ted had bought three tickets that were waiting for us at the desk. If I had stuck with them, I would have found that out. I probably should have been told anyway, just in case we happened to get separated, but I learned a valuable lesson that day: I'm a dumb-ass!