Several things conspired, like a perfect storm, to set me off. The first seemed innocuous enough: I rented a car at a far-away airport. No problem, except I couldn’t start it.
“The key’s in the car,” the rental staffer said, pointing me to stall D-14. All I found was a circular clicker-ish gadget with more buttons than my TV remote. I then tried to depart in a cockpit with more switches and dials than.
