 We approached the car rental booth, produced our ticket supplied by our travel agent and asked for our full size car or station wagon which should now be waiting for us. He simply said he had no cars left and when I asked about the ticket saying it would be there he just shrugged and said he had no cars left. Mike offered to go around the other booths but soon came back saying there were no cars available anywhere. I pleaded with the original guy now. “Can't you see that there are five of us with a whole heap of luggage stranded in front of your booth because of your company's incompetence? Your company must have thousands of cars. You advertise all over the US and Canada that you are almost Number one. Surely you can find us a car from somewhere.”
Finally he decided he could call his office and told us he had a Cutlass coming for us.
It wasn't what we needed but when the car arrived we piled the luggage in the trunk and made him get us a piece of rope to tie it down because it was far too full to close.
I pointed out that the gas tank was almost empty so he made a note on the rental form and off we went.
First thing we needed was a gas station and I found one without any problem. I was about to get out the map when I saw a sign pointing to the highway which would take us through the everglades and then to Tampa.
I always liked the way the Californians drove and thought that the worst drivers in the world lived in Vancouver and but what happened next made me wonder.
The traffic was moving at a little over the speed limit and I just stayed with it following the signs. Coming up to a red traffic light I stopped only to have the car behind start honking his horn and shaking his fist out the window. What did he want me to do, go through the red. I know there was nothing coming across but I wasn't about to break the law so I just waited with him getting more and more furious. When the light changed I crossed over and then pulled to the side to let him pass. Still following the signs I turned corner after corner but soon found that I had made a complete circuit and was starting again. This time we both followed the signs to find out where I had screwed up but once more ended back where we started. By this time I really wanted out of this place so I got out the map found a route that worked and got on the freeway although it earned our car the nickname the Guttless Cutlass because I had to turn off the AC to get enough speed to enter the freeway.
 Driving through the everglades was quite an experience for people used to mountainous terrain. Miles and miles of nothing but swamp with every so often a sign for something strange like the one advertising Alligator Pie.
In the middle of the everglades we stopped at a very weather beaten building advertising cold drinks.  We parked close to a tree that was so weird I have never seen anything like it before or since. It was a sausage tree. Huge sausages hung down from it. When we went for a closer look a monkey jumped down on Mike's shoulders and then disappeared into the tree again. Its screams didn't sound friendly so we took off into the building. Inside we found a surprisingly modern well stocked store and after selling us some soft drinks the owner told us not to go close to the water because there was a 'gator hanging around.
Needless to say we headed right back to the car because I knew alligators were amphibious and I wasn't ready to meet a lizard large enough to snap me in half in its jaws.
The rest of the trip was uneventful except for the mini storm. We had traveled in beautiful sunshine the whole way when we noticed a cloud hanging over the road a little way ahead. As we approached we noticed the oncoming cars were wet but we never expected the downpour that hit us. It only took a minute to get through but in that time the rain that hit us would have filled a swimming pool. On the other side everything was back to normal.
We arrived at our hotel on the beach in Tampa and emptied the luggage into the room before going back out to eat.
We stopped at the first restaurant we saw and ordered dinner. As usual the food was excellent and this time the American portions were welcome because we hadn't eaten since breakfast. When the bill came I handed over my Visa and was told they didn't take credit cards.
“Show us to your kitchen so that we can do the washing up then” I said only half joking. The waitress looked perplexed but laughed when I smiled and produced our last American money.
I asked if this was normal in Tampa restaurants and she assured me it was.
Now we were in a bit of bother. We could get money from a bank but it was Sunday tomorrow so the banks would be closed.
Back at the hotel we pooled our resources and found we could manage breakfast tomorrow but not dinner.
I spent the next hour with the yellow pages finding a restaurant which would accept Visa and luckily found one. It sounded expensive but at least we could eat.
 
Sunday evening we drove out to the restaurant and what we found was a huge building in spacious grounds with archways, waterfalls and statues all around a main hall that resembled St. Peters in the Vatican. I shuddered to think what this was going to cost but when the menus arrived the pricing was hardly much above Macdonalds. What a strange country this was. The waiters were extremely polite and friendly and the food, as usual, came on huge platters. We ordered a drink and were told we could keep the glass. Those glasses served as our largest vases at home for many years after that.
That week in Tampa was one of the best times we ever had. We needed to relax after the cruise because we had had much too good a time to think about getting much sleep.
 We lolled on the beach and went diving for sand dollars.
Only one incident of any importance comes to mind.
I was floating on a small inflatable boat a good way out from the beach when I noticed a triangular fin going past not much further out. I started a frantic paddle back to the beach but was stopped short by the lifeguard who picked up his bullhorn and informed me, and the rest of the people on the beach, that it was only a dolphin. I was glad I was far enough out that my red face didn't show.
We had a great vacation that year and I think the picture I took of Scott on our last afternoon summed up the way we all felt.
When we left Tampa Mike asked if he could carry his own id and we figured he was old enough now. I told him not to lose it or it could cause big problems.
Except for the argument at the airport about the car having no gas in it when we got it, an argument we lost and paid as though it had been full, our trip back to Vancouver was uneventful even going through Chicago and we arrived in the airport at 11pm which to us was 2 am. We had walked through at least 4 customs checkpoints in foreign countries in the past two weeks and had never been asked for more than a birth certificate or a boarding pass.
One last run through customs and we could get a cab home.
The Canadian customs at the airport was divided into two sections.
First you were checked by an agent who asked all the pertinent questions and then you got to pick up the luggage from the carousel and take it past another agent who could ask you to open cases.
The first lady, using the term loosely, asked us where we had come from.
“Tampa” I said
She then proceeded to fill in a huge form listing everything she could think of to delay us just a little more. I am sure I gave her my great grandfather's middle name twice.
Finished with that section she asked are you bringing back any cigarettes or alcohol.
“Just the bottle of Bailey's Irish cream we bought in St. Thomas “ my wife piped in.
The agent raised her head with a look that would have curdled milk and shouted. “You didn't say you had been out of the United States”.
“You didn't ask yet” I pointed out.
She tore up the paperwork we had gone through so much to complete and picked up another form.
“Names!”
“Do we really have to go through all this again? We are all tired and I know all you need to see is our birth certificates to prove who we are.”
“Names!”
We went through it again
I heard my son mumble “Welcome to Canada” and saw her visibly slow down in her writing.
Finally through she asked for the only thing she really needed and I passed over our paperwork and told Mike to do the same.
“I packed it in my suitcase” he said.
“Didn't I tell you to keep it with you? “ I asked.
“I thought it would be safer in the suitcase” he replied.
The agent cut in “Well you can't enter Canada without the correct documentation”.
“Look” I said “By mistake he packed it in his suitcase which happens to be lying just beyond that gate. He is my son. I wouldn't lie to you because who else would own up to fathering such a dunce. Can't we please go through?”
“No one is allowed to enter the country without the correct documentation.”
“Ok, keep him, he costs too much to feed now anyway” and I walked through the gate.
I was smiling as I did it but obviously trying to find a sense of humour in this woman was a lost cause.
I heard a squawk and she came out of her booth. I wasn't sure if I was going to be hauled off to jail but she confronted me and said. ”OK, you can enter this time but make sure this never happens again.”
She told us to go through aisle one when we had our luggage and then went over to tell that agent what a bunch of criminals he was going to have to deal with.
We got our luggage and walked through aisle one. The agent smiled and said. “Welcome back to Canada. I don't know what got up her nose today but just go on through”.
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