QuietLion
Nov 2, 99, 7:04 pm
Another Shuttle Flight
I made the trip to SFO from the retreat site in Redwood city in my friend Noel’s open ’85 Mercedes convertible, driving through the sage-covered hills with one hand clutching his guitar that shared the back seat with my luggage so that it didn’t take a trip of its own. He dropped me at the FC/1K checkin, which had a redcoat screening people to see if they belonged. I was first in line and waited only a moment to reach the first of three agents serving the line.
All the agents were dressed unusually. I won’t say they were wearing costumes, but they were certainly casual. I told the young Hispanic man that I would like to check my bag just to LAX. My ticket is SFO-LAX-MIA-NAS, then the return NAS-MIA-IAD-SEA. It takes guts to fly United to the Bahamas. He first told me that he would check me all the way through, then rescinded that when he saw that the connection was the next day. After booking the ticket with an overnight connection, United was kind enough to let me move my Shuttle flight to an earlier one, keeping the confirmed upgrade, so I could have dinner with my friends Tony and Judy in LA.
I was two hours early for the flight, so I went to the RCC inside security to wait. It was surprisingly lightly occupied for a busy night in SFO. Only one other customer was using a carrel, so I had my pick. I took my usual one nearest the cheese and crackers. I connected, found a saved drink coupon for a martini, and spent the time surfing since FlyerTalk was still down.
I timed my boarding perfectly, arriving at gate 77a (what’s with that? Did they run out of numbers?) just in time to be the first one on board. To my delighted surprise, the aircraft was a regular 737 instead of a Shuttle, meaning I had even more legroom in 1C, the only good seat on that airplane. I hung up my own coat, and during the period of time when they never have preflight drink service I put on my Jar-Jar Binks mask and greeted the other customers as they boarded. After the boarding process the gate agents gathered around to giggle at my mask, trying to figure out where the eyeholes were. I said, “How rude!”
The caterer never got around to bringing in the first-class galley, so we left with only the coach provisions and a few cans of leftover soft drinks in FC. The stewardess announced apologetically that there would be only water and juice service. She decided that she would use the coach drinks to serve FC and let coach drink water. I didn’t complain. But there was no Champagne on board so I couldn’t have a Champagne Gin Rickey. There was also no lemon or lime or olive on board, so I just had a gin on the rocks in a plastic cup. Hey, if that isn’t First Class I don’t know what is.
Seat 1B was occupied by a uniformed pilot, but I don’t think he worked for United as I didn’t recognize the insignia on his hat. He may not even have spoke English, as he was silent throughout the flight. However, when we took off a can of Diet Coke spilled out of the partially full front galley and rolled toward him. Without even looking up from his book, he caught the can under his toe, leaving his heel on the ground, and kept it there until I pointed it out to the stewardess. Unflappable.
The pilot elected not to put air traffic on channel 9, which I dislike. The headset was broken and only the left ear worked. Nevertheless, we arrived at the gate one minute early, which is about as good a result as I could expect on a flight from SFO. My bag was waiting for me and apparently had arrived on a previous flight. I’m glad I thought to look rather than just waiting.
I put on my Jar-Jar mask for Tony and Judy, who had a good laugh picking me up. We drove from LAX to SMO, where Tony had made reservations at Typhoon. It’s an unassuming restaurant overlooking Santa Monica’s general-aviation airport. We got a window table and watched a few Cessnas and a Beechcraft take off while we enjoyed the Asian fusion cuisine. Tony got a box of sake, which they brought to the table empty and delightfully filled to overflowing as we watched. I ordered a saketini—vodka martini with a splash of sake. We started with a fabulous Chinese chicken salad, fulminating with ginger. For dinner we had whole steamed striped bass, Korean barbecued beef, and sautéed string beans. Wonderful.
Tony and Judy drove me back to the airport and I checked in at the Westin. No suite again! I’m 0 for 2 as a Plutonium! They did get me a very nice room on the top floor with a Heavenly Bed. Man are these things great! But no amenity box. I was looking forward to the bottled water. There was also no shampoo in the room. But for $86.50 for the night (UA coupon), who’s complaining?
Paradise, East
I set the alarm for 6:30 but woke an hour earlier on my own. A quick call to Service Express brought a couple bottles of shampoo which arrived together with my USA Today and Wall Street Journal. I got ready and headed to the check-out (the video checkout was broken as usual). When I arrived, I was told that the system was down and they would send me a copy of the bill. Was everything correct? I said it was OK except for the guilt-inducing mandatory donation to UNICEF. This is a brilliant strategy for charitable contribution. I think I’ll start tacking a few bucks on to all my billing statements to have my customers support causes I think are worthy. It’s cheaper than making my own donation, and who can refuse?
The complimentary shuttle got me to United in plenty of time, but the parking cops directed the driver forward until he could find a space, and by that time we were at terminal 8. I approached a woman standing around by the FC checkin for Hawaii and told her I was 1K and going to Miami. She asked me to follow her, and escorted me to the 1K checkin in terminal 7! I reluctantly parted with another North American 1K Confirmable Upgrade Certificate. I asked if there was a lounge, and she said unfortunately not. This flight leaves from an orphan gate in terminal 6, and it’s quite a hike, so I won’t even have time to go to the RCC. Well OK. I set off and indeed it is a hike, almost comical in the number of twists, turns, and stairways I need to take to get to gate 66.
This 757 boards through door 1, which is the incorrect door to board a 757 because I can’t turn left. It’s a circus as the entire passenger list files through the FC cabin while we don’t get drinks or coat-hanging service. Fortunately, once they are through the service is fine. It is November 1, but the Hemispheres is still the October issue. The movie is excellent: The Sixth Sense starring Bruce Willis. Breakfast is a choice of fruit and cereal, breakfast burrito, or apple-strudel pancakes all served with a choice of meat: turkey sausage, Canadian bacon, or steak. I get the steak which is overdone as usual but still edible. The breakfast burrito was excellent.
A couple hours later we get the deli cart for a snack. I ask for some shrimp, salmon, and roast beef, all of which are excellent. They still have the Louis Martini Cabernet Sauvignon, so I get a glass of that too. The Mrs. Fields cookies are white-chocolate macadamia (I decline, I’m being good) and the hot towels are heated to “surface of the sun” temperature—very satisfying. This was average—which is to say very good—service for a UA transcon, about as good as can be expected on a narrowbody. We land in MIA about 15 minutes late due to winds and weather, but still leaving me 45 minutes to make my connection.
Now the horror story begins. United’s codeshare partner to the Bahamas is a little airline called Gulfstream, which markets itself primarily as Continental Connection. The problem is, no one at United seems to know anything about this flight to Nassau. No agent is waiting at the gate as I disembark to help with connections and the flight is not listed on monitors. MIA is a huge airport. I make my way out past security and go to the 1K checkin, where the agent asks where I’m going. I say Nassau. She says, well, if you’re going to Nassau, you’re not going on United. I force a smile and say, “Perhaps someone at United could direct me to the proper place.” She looks at the ticket and says, “You’ll have to check in with Continental, around the corner.” I ask if Continental Airlines is the same as Continental Connection and she tells me that it’s like United Express. It’s in concourse G, she says.
So I go around the corner and I don’t see any Continental checkin line but I do see concourse G. There’s my flight, displayed on the monitor, gate G1. So I go in through security and find a long line of people at gate G1. As I wait, I notice that the two agents there are not processing anyone in line, just making phone calls and using their computer terminals. Apparently they have about 5 canceled flights to deal with, but I see on the monitor that my flight is confirmed and leaving from G1, so I’m not worried. The agents are spending a lot of time dealing with passengers to Orlando. Eventually I make my way to the front of the line, not so much by people ahead of me being processed, but rather by attrition. People are giving up and taking a seat. So at 5:02, with the monitor still saying that my flight is leaving at 5:00 form gate G1, one of the agents asks what she can do for me. I say, “Nassau,” and show her my ticket.
Apparently the flight number that United has printed on this ticket is not the correct flight number. There’s the UA flight number, the CO flight number that UA thinks I’m on, and the actual flight number. But no worries. The agent hands me my ticket back and says the monitor is wrong, my flight is actually leaving from gate G5. She’ll call and let them know I’m coming. So I walk briskly up the escalator and over to G5, where things are much calmer. The agent checks me in and I carefully ask if I should be waiting right here in this area. She says yes and hands me a boarding pass for seat 12D. The monitor still says G1 at 5:00. I do not think that means what they think it means. She asks if I have checked any luggage and I give her the information from my connecting flight, which she copies down.
At about 5:15 they announce boarding. We all go down a flight of stairs, where we wait in a cramped space for an agent to open the exterior door. A few minutes later that happens and we file out to a four-engine DHC-7. The stewardess tells us to take any seat except the back two rows, which have their tray tables down with signs saying “no seat” written in crayon. The interior is shabby and seat cushions look like they have never been cleaned. I go all the way to the front and end up sitting in row 4. Rows 1 and 2 face each other and the cushions in row 3 are badly worn. As I take the window seat in 4A I notice a big wet stain in the aisle seat next to me. No one takes it, so I have the row to myself. We sit on the runway and taxi for 40 minutes, finally taking off at 5:55.
The flight is 51 minutes long. The cabin leaks, so there is a loud squealing sound in the back of the plane during the entire flight. Condensation pours out of the air vents, reminiscent of a scene from an airplane disaster movie. The stewardess serves a choice of Coke, Diet Coke, and Sprite along with a big bag of pretzels. I ask for water and get a whole bottle of it, which was nice. We land in Nassau and walk into the terminal.
Immigration is a breeze. I wait for luggage to arrive. I know this baggage-claim area well. This is where I spent hours waiting for baggage to arrive last time I was here, on my first date with Hunnybear. Well, like last time, it never arrived. Knowing exactly where the baggage service desk was, I went there and filled out a form. The agent, Jack, said it would be delivered to my hotel tonight. No worries.
I took a taxi to the Radisson Cable Beach, since the Sheraton Grand Paradise Island was destroyed by hurricane Floyd. I asked at checkin about the United 1K complimentary suite upgrade. She had never heard of it. I’m now 0 for 2 on anyone at Radisson honoring that program. I’ve booked a deluxe ocean-view room, but the room she gives me faces the other wing of the U-shaped hotel. The only ocean view is from standing on the balcony craning my neck around to the left. I march right back down and say there’s been a mistake. All the desk staff assure me that this is, indeed, and ocean view room. I do not think that means what they think it means. Finally she gives me a better room that doesn’t completely face the ocean but at least has a 45-degree view of it. I relent.
I go for a great steak in the Black Angus Grill in the adjoining Marriott Crystal Palace. When I return, my bags have still not arrived.
Next: don't worry, be happy
I made the trip to SFO from the retreat site in Redwood city in my friend Noel’s open ’85 Mercedes convertible, driving through the sage-covered hills with one hand clutching his guitar that shared the back seat with my luggage so that it didn’t take a trip of its own. He dropped me at the FC/1K checkin, which had a redcoat screening people to see if they belonged. I was first in line and waited only a moment to reach the first of three agents serving the line.
All the agents were dressed unusually. I won’t say they were wearing costumes, but they were certainly casual. I told the young Hispanic man that I would like to check my bag just to LAX. My ticket is SFO-LAX-MIA-NAS, then the return NAS-MIA-IAD-SEA. It takes guts to fly United to the Bahamas. He first told me that he would check me all the way through, then rescinded that when he saw that the connection was the next day. After booking the ticket with an overnight connection, United was kind enough to let me move my Shuttle flight to an earlier one, keeping the confirmed upgrade, so I could have dinner with my friends Tony and Judy in LA.
I was two hours early for the flight, so I went to the RCC inside security to wait. It was surprisingly lightly occupied for a busy night in SFO. Only one other customer was using a carrel, so I had my pick. I took my usual one nearest the cheese and crackers. I connected, found a saved drink coupon for a martini, and spent the time surfing since FlyerTalk was still down.
I timed my boarding perfectly, arriving at gate 77a (what’s with that? Did they run out of numbers?) just in time to be the first one on board. To my delighted surprise, the aircraft was a regular 737 instead of a Shuttle, meaning I had even more legroom in 1C, the only good seat on that airplane. I hung up my own coat, and during the period of time when they never have preflight drink service I put on my Jar-Jar Binks mask and greeted the other customers as they boarded. After the boarding process the gate agents gathered around to giggle at my mask, trying to figure out where the eyeholes were. I said, “How rude!”
The caterer never got around to bringing in the first-class galley, so we left with only the coach provisions and a few cans of leftover soft drinks in FC. The stewardess announced apologetically that there would be only water and juice service. She decided that she would use the coach drinks to serve FC and let coach drink water. I didn’t complain. But there was no Champagne on board so I couldn’t have a Champagne Gin Rickey. There was also no lemon or lime or olive on board, so I just had a gin on the rocks in a plastic cup. Hey, if that isn’t First Class I don’t know what is.
Seat 1B was occupied by a uniformed pilot, but I don’t think he worked for United as I didn’t recognize the insignia on his hat. He may not even have spoke English, as he was silent throughout the flight. However, when we took off a can of Diet Coke spilled out of the partially full front galley and rolled toward him. Without even looking up from his book, he caught the can under his toe, leaving his heel on the ground, and kept it there until I pointed it out to the stewardess. Unflappable.
The pilot elected not to put air traffic on channel 9, which I dislike. The headset was broken and only the left ear worked. Nevertheless, we arrived at the gate one minute early, which is about as good a result as I could expect on a flight from SFO. My bag was waiting for me and apparently had arrived on a previous flight. I’m glad I thought to look rather than just waiting.
I put on my Jar-Jar mask for Tony and Judy, who had a good laugh picking me up. We drove from LAX to SMO, where Tony had made reservations at Typhoon. It’s an unassuming restaurant overlooking Santa Monica’s general-aviation airport. We got a window table and watched a few Cessnas and a Beechcraft take off while we enjoyed the Asian fusion cuisine. Tony got a box of sake, which they brought to the table empty and delightfully filled to overflowing as we watched. I ordered a saketini—vodka martini with a splash of sake. We started with a fabulous Chinese chicken salad, fulminating with ginger. For dinner we had whole steamed striped bass, Korean barbecued beef, and sautéed string beans. Wonderful.
Tony and Judy drove me back to the airport and I checked in at the Westin. No suite again! I’m 0 for 2 as a Plutonium! They did get me a very nice room on the top floor with a Heavenly Bed. Man are these things great! But no amenity box. I was looking forward to the bottled water. There was also no shampoo in the room. But for $86.50 for the night (UA coupon), who’s complaining?
Paradise, East
I set the alarm for 6:30 but woke an hour earlier on my own. A quick call to Service Express brought a couple bottles of shampoo which arrived together with my USA Today and Wall Street Journal. I got ready and headed to the check-out (the video checkout was broken as usual). When I arrived, I was told that the system was down and they would send me a copy of the bill. Was everything correct? I said it was OK except for the guilt-inducing mandatory donation to UNICEF. This is a brilliant strategy for charitable contribution. I think I’ll start tacking a few bucks on to all my billing statements to have my customers support causes I think are worthy. It’s cheaper than making my own donation, and who can refuse?
The complimentary shuttle got me to United in plenty of time, but the parking cops directed the driver forward until he could find a space, and by that time we were at terminal 8. I approached a woman standing around by the FC checkin for Hawaii and told her I was 1K and going to Miami. She asked me to follow her, and escorted me to the 1K checkin in terminal 7! I reluctantly parted with another North American 1K Confirmable Upgrade Certificate. I asked if there was a lounge, and she said unfortunately not. This flight leaves from an orphan gate in terminal 6, and it’s quite a hike, so I won’t even have time to go to the RCC. Well OK. I set off and indeed it is a hike, almost comical in the number of twists, turns, and stairways I need to take to get to gate 66.
This 757 boards through door 1, which is the incorrect door to board a 757 because I can’t turn left. It’s a circus as the entire passenger list files through the FC cabin while we don’t get drinks or coat-hanging service. Fortunately, once they are through the service is fine. It is November 1, but the Hemispheres is still the October issue. The movie is excellent: The Sixth Sense starring Bruce Willis. Breakfast is a choice of fruit and cereal, breakfast burrito, or apple-strudel pancakes all served with a choice of meat: turkey sausage, Canadian bacon, or steak. I get the steak which is overdone as usual but still edible. The breakfast burrito was excellent.
A couple hours later we get the deli cart for a snack. I ask for some shrimp, salmon, and roast beef, all of which are excellent. They still have the Louis Martini Cabernet Sauvignon, so I get a glass of that too. The Mrs. Fields cookies are white-chocolate macadamia (I decline, I’m being good) and the hot towels are heated to “surface of the sun” temperature—very satisfying. This was average—which is to say very good—service for a UA transcon, about as good as can be expected on a narrowbody. We land in MIA about 15 minutes late due to winds and weather, but still leaving me 45 minutes to make my connection.
Now the horror story begins. United’s codeshare partner to the Bahamas is a little airline called Gulfstream, which markets itself primarily as Continental Connection. The problem is, no one at United seems to know anything about this flight to Nassau. No agent is waiting at the gate as I disembark to help with connections and the flight is not listed on monitors. MIA is a huge airport. I make my way out past security and go to the 1K checkin, where the agent asks where I’m going. I say Nassau. She says, well, if you’re going to Nassau, you’re not going on United. I force a smile and say, “Perhaps someone at United could direct me to the proper place.” She looks at the ticket and says, “You’ll have to check in with Continental, around the corner.” I ask if Continental Airlines is the same as Continental Connection and she tells me that it’s like United Express. It’s in concourse G, she says.
So I go around the corner and I don’t see any Continental checkin line but I do see concourse G. There’s my flight, displayed on the monitor, gate G1. So I go in through security and find a long line of people at gate G1. As I wait, I notice that the two agents there are not processing anyone in line, just making phone calls and using their computer terminals. Apparently they have about 5 canceled flights to deal with, but I see on the monitor that my flight is confirmed and leaving from G1, so I’m not worried. The agents are spending a lot of time dealing with passengers to Orlando. Eventually I make my way to the front of the line, not so much by people ahead of me being processed, but rather by attrition. People are giving up and taking a seat. So at 5:02, with the monitor still saying that my flight is leaving at 5:00 form gate G1, one of the agents asks what she can do for me. I say, “Nassau,” and show her my ticket.
Apparently the flight number that United has printed on this ticket is not the correct flight number. There’s the UA flight number, the CO flight number that UA thinks I’m on, and the actual flight number. But no worries. The agent hands me my ticket back and says the monitor is wrong, my flight is actually leaving from gate G5. She’ll call and let them know I’m coming. So I walk briskly up the escalator and over to G5, where things are much calmer. The agent checks me in and I carefully ask if I should be waiting right here in this area. She says yes and hands me a boarding pass for seat 12D. The monitor still says G1 at 5:00. I do not think that means what they think it means. She asks if I have checked any luggage and I give her the information from my connecting flight, which she copies down.
At about 5:15 they announce boarding. We all go down a flight of stairs, where we wait in a cramped space for an agent to open the exterior door. A few minutes later that happens and we file out to a four-engine DHC-7. The stewardess tells us to take any seat except the back two rows, which have their tray tables down with signs saying “no seat” written in crayon. The interior is shabby and seat cushions look like they have never been cleaned. I go all the way to the front and end up sitting in row 4. Rows 1 and 2 face each other and the cushions in row 3 are badly worn. As I take the window seat in 4A I notice a big wet stain in the aisle seat next to me. No one takes it, so I have the row to myself. We sit on the runway and taxi for 40 minutes, finally taking off at 5:55.
The flight is 51 minutes long. The cabin leaks, so there is a loud squealing sound in the back of the plane during the entire flight. Condensation pours out of the air vents, reminiscent of a scene from an airplane disaster movie. The stewardess serves a choice of Coke, Diet Coke, and Sprite along with a big bag of pretzels. I ask for water and get a whole bottle of it, which was nice. We land in Nassau and walk into the terminal.
Immigration is a breeze. I wait for luggage to arrive. I know this baggage-claim area well. This is where I spent hours waiting for baggage to arrive last time I was here, on my first date with Hunnybear. Well, like last time, it never arrived. Knowing exactly where the baggage service desk was, I went there and filled out a form. The agent, Jack, said it would be delivered to my hotel tonight. No worries.
I took a taxi to the Radisson Cable Beach, since the Sheraton Grand Paradise Island was destroyed by hurricane Floyd. I asked at checkin about the United 1K complimentary suite upgrade. She had never heard of it. I’m now 0 for 2 on anyone at Radisson honoring that program. I’ve booked a deluxe ocean-view room, but the room she gives me faces the other wing of the U-shaped hotel. The only ocean view is from standing on the balcony craning my neck around to the left. I march right back down and say there’s been a mistake. All the desk staff assure me that this is, indeed, and ocean view room. I do not think that means what they think it means. Finally she gives me a better room that doesn’t completely face the ocean but at least has a 45-degree view of it. I relent.
I go for a great steak in the Black Angus Grill in the adjoining Marriott Crystal Palace. When I return, my bags have still not arrived.
Next: don't worry, be happy