You start your day with a 5:25am flight, take that middle seat assignment, make your 4-hour connection, walk to the gate, find out there's only 20 seats for 60 people, board only to find someone else is in the seat, find out the plane's coffeemaker is broken, use the airport restroom which was just used by someone afraid to use the urinal, wait for luggage to be last on the carousel, walk up to the rental car counter, and get your car (having declined 5 more types of coverage and no Navigation nor XM Radio). You look for the hotel, find the best route, discover it's under construction, arrive to find out your room is next to the elevator control room and on the first floor, has no refrigerator, smells like a gym locker, furniture that is perilously located for stubbed toes, a smoke detector which emits a ten thousand-candlewatt strobe every 19.5 seconds, and will be invaded by three tour busses of high school boys with seven chaperones. The job site has no air conditioning, limited parking, no wi-fi, no desk space, and one annoying director who smokes cigars. The town's finest dining is an off-ramp McDonald's and an Applebee's, since the best place in town received a visit from the health inspector the day after you paid your bill. On checkout, the hotel charged you for internet, the wall socket mysteriously didn't charge your phone, you lost a sock, and the airline calls you five minutes before boarding to let you know your flight will be delayed 3 hours.
Good thing you drove that Chevrolet Malibu. It's the best part of your week.