Since my gig-related traveling has come to a screeching halt, I'm a little rusty when it comes to renting vans and cars. That's probably why I thought that helping 23 friends from Italy pick up their four vehicles at the airport this morning would be quick and easy.

Mea culpa.

Four hours later, I was ready to move on to the next phase of my day.

Despite having reservations in hand, the process was a slow one. And it had nothing to do with the language barrier. Despite being of Italian descent, the friendly and helpful Rhonda spoke nary a word of her grandmother's tongue, but it wasn't a problem. I muddled through.

The cars were there, the keys were there, the reservations were there (so no "Seinfeld" quips apply). It just seems that there is a whole lot of paperwork to complete. Each of the four drivers had to initial here, sign there, initial here, and here, and here, and here, and sign here.

The real comedy began when I instructed the drivers to exit the parking garage and meet me outside so I could lead them convoy-style to their Downtown hotel. Because I was parked literally 15 feet straight above them, I figured we'd all exit the same way. Nope. After circling around the terminal a couple times - since you can't wait for anyone anywhere at an airport anymore - I found one of them struggling out the exit with an unfamiliar automatic transmission. A second had slightly overshot the ramp toward the freeway and was backing up to correct his mistake.

Feeling lucky that I was able to find at least two of them we began to head - herky jerkily and slowly - Downtown, where, luckily, we stumbled upon a third driver with a good sense of direction. Our wayward fourth car would arrive about 20 minutes later to the relief of everyone (and not just because the huge trunk in his Impala would go a long way toward solving the lack of luggage space in the minivans).

When I left, my friends had their luggage loaded and were beginning to load themselves into the vehicles. A few hours later, I'm here and a little preoccupied, but they're all adults and pretty well-traveled, so I know I don't need to be.

But I've traveled in countries where I don't speak the language and I know how even the easiest tasks can seem daunting. So, I'm hoping they send me an e-mail the minute they get to New York.

In bocca al lupo and buon viaggio, amici.