Travel Hell

So we left off and I was just getting to Dulles airport...

My ticket to Las Vegas, where I was supposed to transfer to a flight to Eugene, said United Airlines. Prominently. On the first line. WIth no other airlines listed anywhere.

Like an idiot. I believed my ticket, and so I stood in line at the United ticket counter for 45 minutes. At the ticket counter, they explained that although my ticket said United, it actually meant US Airways, and so I'd have to go there instead. I complied, walking briskly across Dulles' huge terminal, and naturally, the US Airways rep explained to me that I'd have to go to even further, to the America West ticket counter, because they had merged and I'd actually be on their airline instead. United is at the furthest possible position from America West i at Dulles. I'd estimate it was about a quarter of a mile walk, and I was encumbered by two very heavy bags. I go to the America West ticket counter at 8:03.

My flight being at 8:30, they calmly explained that I missed the 30 minute cutoff and they wouldn't let me check-in. There was no way I'd be able to get to the gate fast enough, they said, and there's no chance they'd even let me try. It would be a disservice to me if they did, they said.

I completely lost my shit, essentially demanding, pleading, begging that they just check me in. They're wasting valuable time, I tried to expalin, there's still 27 minutes, I can make... Then there were only 25 minutes.. then only twenty, and then they asked me to leave.

I called orbitz, screamed at them for a while, and they refused to take responsibility. "I'm flying America West, but my ticket says United.. You put the wrong airline on my ticket, so it's your faultthat I missed my flight I told them." "The ticket is supposed to say United," they rejoined, "They're the issuing airline!" "But it's misleading to put the wrong airline front and center on a ticket! You put the wrong information there!" "No," they replied, "We put the right information there, and we're not going t argue with you about that. You should have paid closer attention. It's all in the service agreement you clicked next on."

I gave up. It was 8:25, my flight still ahdn't left, but there of course there was no way I'd be getting on it. I went back to teh ticket counter and asked to reschedule my flight. THey were nice enough to waive the $150 change fee, and set me up to go Phoenix at 7AM the next day, and fly standby to Eugene once I go there. I called Mr. Cimino-Hurt, and like the hero that he is, he came and picked up, aying he didn't mind driving me back to the airport at 6 the next day.

Fast forward to 6 the next day. I check in, and then start my stopwatch. I walk deliberately to security. THey pat me down, the whole deal. They single me out for special inspection, swab everything for explosives, and riffle through my belongings. Stopwatch is ticking.

I walk to the shuttle to my flight, wait for it to leave, and then exit it when it reaches the proper terminal. I heave my enormous bags to the gate, and take a seat while I wait to board. 17 minutes had passed since I left the check in counter. Bastards.

The flight to Phoenix was uneventful. I slept most of the way because I was exhausted, and when we got to Phoenix, I had plenty of time to get to the gate where my standby flight was leaving from. I was one of the first ones there, but when I asked the gate agents if I was going to get on, they explained that the flight was overbooked, so it would take an act of God for me to make the flgiht. I bought a cinnabon for breakfast, and I waited. Julie Portnoy walked by, and she was taking the flight. We said hello. She got on board the aircraft, since she had a real ticket and wasn't on standby. I ate my cinnabon and watched a fligt going to Eugene take off without me.

The next flight to Eugene wasn't until 5:30, 6 hours later. So I sat around, read a little, and waited some more. Around 4:30 the gate agents came to the gate so I asked them if I might make this flight. It was even more severely overbooked. Furthermore, the next flight to Eugene from Phoenix wasn't until TUESDAY NIGHT. I sat at the gate, and chatted with Mark Johnson, a philosophy proffessor who was on the flight. The whole time the gate agent was asking ticketed passengers to give up their seats because they were so badly oversold. I could tell I wasn't getting on this flight, either. Eventually professor Johnson boarded the plane. Eventually the plane took off, and again I saw my ride home leave without me.

The only way to get back home was going to be to go to Las Vegas, wait 26 hours, then catch a flight that miraculously had 1 seat still open. Fortunately, my grandma lives there so I had a place to stay, and I actually had a decent time visiting with her for a day.

I only had one more flight left, but of course there was no way it could go smoothly. I got to the airport with about an hour and twenty minutes, waited in line for 50 minutes, then asked an agent if there was any way she could help me get to the front of the line, because I thought I'd miss my flight. SHe just laughed at me and shrugged. I was freaking out and thought I could feel an ulcer start to develop, when another agent who had overheard came up and actually tried to help. SHe checked me in, and then told me I probably wouldn't make it, but I had better go as fast as I can if I want any chance. There was no way I was going to miss this flight, so again I went as fast as I could to security, where, of course, they decided to give me the 'extra inspection.' They made me unpack everything, they even confiscated my tiny swiss army knife, which I'd been flying around the entire country with and no one had bothered me about before, even in my last flight where I was given the special treatment as well. I thought they had reformed the laws a litte, guess not. ANyways, when they were finally done with me I was again sprinting down the terminal, still lugging around all my clothes and the ten pound paperweight that used to be my laptop. Breathless and sweaty I made it to the gate just in time. I think sitting down on the too-small seat on the little regional jet was probably the happiest single moment of my trip. Secure in the knowledge that I'd actually be getting home that night, I took a deep breath and relaxed.