The Park & Ride was not a one of those fluorescent light covered monstrosities that serves as a beacon of advertisement for larger car rental companies like Alamo or Budget. With the wattage those puppies were putting out, the street lighting seemed quaint, like holiday decorations along the fringe of the real source of light. Our Park & Ride was on a smallish corner lot, just a block from a major rotary. It was not well lit. It had a small sign that said Revere Park & Ride in white lettering.
There was a small service center built into the corner of the open paved lot, and the whole place was surrounded by wire fencing with barbed wire that ran along the top. There was no "parking garage." It was all one level of exposed pavement, no stacking. Old school. My wife parked the car in one of the lined spots away from the busy intersection, and we gathered our belonging and made our way to dimly lit hut. It was now 5:00am.
As we were just lifting our suitcases onto the sidewalk pavement, a middle-aged Asian man swerved his over-sized new-model Cadillac onto the pavement in front of us. His window was down.
"Is this the parking for the airport?," he asked. His accent was pronounced, but besides the funny word placement, his English was almost flawless.
