cblaisd
Nov 26, 03, 2:26 am
I generally consider any itinerary that starts with the awful, dreaded, hateful, evil CRJ to at least have the saving grace of getting the worst of the day out of the way first.
Au contraire.
Consider yesterday's refutation:
IND-ORD
7:00am
Being an unrepentant UA segment runner, I firmly believe that one should never fly two segments when you can fly four (particularly if you have time to get bumped and get compensation). So I had booked onward from ORD this itin: ORD-MCI-DEN-SFO. This actually also had utility: got a 3 hour layover in MCI to have breakfast with a close friend.
But no......
7:00am comes at IND. No plane. No info. 7:30am comes. No plane. No info. I asked the UA CSR if this was an ACA issue or a United issue. She said that it was an ACA problem because the pilots had gotten to the airport late, then decided they didn't want to use the gate where the CRJ was parked and were going to taxi it "sometime" to another gate. 7:45 comes. Finally we board (after being told to be "extraordinarily careful" walking on the tarmac since it was covered with frozen glycol and was like black ice and that we could slip and badly hurt ourselves. (I am suspecting that UA's marketing staff didn't write those lines?). ACA pilot comes on the intercom to apologize for the delay saying that the weather was really cold (duh!) and that that meant that it took longer than usual to prepare the airplane and he was sorry for this "unforseen" problem. Unforseen? The Weather Channel must not be available in the ACA crew hotel. Several of us "foresaw" that it would be below freezing and with snow flurries. Amazingly prescient on our parts. (I am so spoiled by having my UAX carrier on the west coast be SkyWest! I've only had to deal with ACA United Express a few times and I can say that not one of those times was a very good experience).
We are finally wheel's up at 8:15. Finally (after 45 minutes of mutual thigh abrasion -- oh, but I forget: United does say that "every seat on a CRJ is a first-class seat") we land at ORD and park at F14. Departure monitor shows my connection to MCI is now boarding at C28. It is almost not possible to walk any further for a connection.
Of course it's showing "departed" by the time I get to the C Concourse.
So I go to the RCC and say I have no need to fly the rest of these segments since I can no longer make my breakfast with my friend in MCI. (And knowing that I can now get credit for the originally ticketed segments because it was a United Express misconnect). Please re-book me on the 10am 777 flight direct to SFO. Agent at the RCC was great; sympathetic and very helpful. I had been upgraded on my originally booked segments so she re-booked me in biz. None of the rows' 8's or 9's seats were available, but the load was only about 3/5 in 10-15 and I asked for a window with no one next to me if possible. And so I got 15A. Good! Life is looking up, even if I was disappointed in missing a chance to see a friend in MCI.
ORD-SFO
10:00a
Board with the first few pax. Settle in. But soon a young man comes on. I note that he doesn't look at his boarding pass but simply scans the cabin. I also notice that two FA's are watching him very closely. He picks 15B. OK. No big deal. I nod at him, say good morning, and go back to working on the laptop and listening to channel 9. But every few seconds an FA stops at my new seatmate and says "Are you ok?" or "Don't worry" or "It's going to be alright." I hear from his mouth the words "pass out," "really, really nervous" and "vomit."
In the meantime, in front of me in 14AB a young man and his toddler son settle in. The child is bouncing off the ceilings. (And lest I be misunderstood and before I go much further, let me say that as one who has raised 4 children, I am aware that what I am about to describe is not the child's fault, it's the parents').
We begin to taxi. As we're are taxiing, my seatmate reaches over and clutches my shirt and says "Could you please close all those windows -- I hate takeoffs and think I will pass out if I have to watch." As kindly as I could (really) I say, no, I booked a window seat so I can watch and maybe you could close your eyes or move over in the center where there is no one sitting (and offered to call the FA) and you won't 'have to' see outside. He says, no, I picked this seat because I need people to talk to.
We begin the takeoff roll with a clerance to make a 10 degree turn to the left. We rotate and begin the 10 degree turn. My seatmate again grabs my shirt and softly screams. Then the gear comes up and flaps are coming up. Out shoots the hand and clutches my shirt. I suggest to him that he put on his headphones, listen to Channel 9 and he'll hear what the controllers are telling the pilots to do, or that he listen to music. He puts on the headphones, but does not plug them in. In about 2 minutes -- you guessed it, a hand again clutches my shirt and he says "please stop working and talk to me. I picked this seat so someone would talk to me. I can't stand not having someone to talk to me during takeoff." OK. I talk to him a couple of minutes. He again asks me to put all the windows down.
In the meantime.... I pull out my video screen. The moving map (one of the little highlights for me in 777 Biz class) is inoperative. As is, I discover, the lumbar support adjustment on the seat.
But I have little time to be frustrated as my attention is soon forced to be ever vigilant on the toddler in front of me. He is jumping up and down. Then unbuckling himself and racing towards F. Then throwing things around. Then crying. Then hollering. Then trying to throw things at me. Then hitting his father.
Lunch comes. The toddler makes some sport of dripping drinks on his father's seat. My seatmate asks for a meal and then does not eat it for 45 minutes (but does not want the FA to take it back). Finally, I notice, he picks up the roll (this is the -- surprise!! -- deli plate) precisely rotates the roll 90 degrees, eats half of the bottom half of the roll, then studies it for a time. Then he precisely turns it another 90 degrees, and eats the other half of the bottom of the roll. Then he tells the FA to take it away.
It's time to sleep. So I manage to sleep for an hour or so. I wake to find (thank goodness) we are over the Sierras. My seatmate is calm and toddler is quiet. Quiet enough that father says to him "I'll be right back" and dashes to the lav. Whereupon toddler takes the DVD player upon which they had been watching Barney et al, and throws it as hard as it could on the floor. Father comes back (soft drink in hand) and picks up the pieces (it now was in three parts) of the DVD player and puts it back together. Toddler takes this opportunity to empty soft drink on his seat, his father, and his father's seat. Then begins crying loudly. FA brings father a stack of napkins.
Not once on this entire flight did I ever hear the word "No" escape his lips.
We land we taxi to the gate. I'm free.
(And now for some of your inevitable questions: Why didn't I move? Well, I thought about it. But I had my stuff out, I was in a favorite seat, I'd been up much of the night, and I kept stupidly and optimistically hoping it would all calm down. Was I uncharitable to my seatmate? I honestly don't think so. You may disagree.)
Coda:
I BART'ed home. When I got to my station, my exit ticket wouldn't work. "See Agent! See Agent." So I did. He said, accusatorily: "Where did you get this ticket?" I pointed at the machine outside the fare gate. He said "Well you have a problem." I said, "No sir, you have a problem. The ticket that BART sold me is defective. Please print me a new ticket with the remaining fare value." "Can't do that; have to give you a refund." "OK" Angrily, "You bought this on a credit card." "Yes." "Well, you have a big problem; not easy to fix; lots of paperwork." "No, you have a problem; you sold me a ticket that is defective and you need to fix this." Mutter, mutter, mutter. Paperwork, paperwork. Me: "When will this refund post to my credit card." "Don't know." "Who does know?" "Don't know that either." "Could you find out?" "I could, but I'm not going to."
[This message has been edited by cblaisd (edited Nov 26, 2003).]
Au contraire.
Consider yesterday's refutation:
IND-ORD
7:00am
Being an unrepentant UA segment runner, I firmly believe that one should never fly two segments when you can fly four (particularly if you have time to get bumped and get compensation). So I had booked onward from ORD this itin: ORD-MCI-DEN-SFO. This actually also had utility: got a 3 hour layover in MCI to have breakfast with a close friend.
But no......
7:00am comes at IND. No plane. No info. 7:30am comes. No plane. No info. I asked the UA CSR if this was an ACA issue or a United issue. She said that it was an ACA problem because the pilots had gotten to the airport late, then decided they didn't want to use the gate where the CRJ was parked and were going to taxi it "sometime" to another gate. 7:45 comes. Finally we board (after being told to be "extraordinarily careful" walking on the tarmac since it was covered with frozen glycol and was like black ice and that we could slip and badly hurt ourselves. (I am suspecting that UA's marketing staff didn't write those lines?). ACA pilot comes on the intercom to apologize for the delay saying that the weather was really cold (duh!) and that that meant that it took longer than usual to prepare the airplane and he was sorry for this "unforseen" problem. Unforseen? The Weather Channel must not be available in the ACA crew hotel. Several of us "foresaw" that it would be below freezing and with snow flurries. Amazingly prescient on our parts. (I am so spoiled by having my UAX carrier on the west coast be SkyWest! I've only had to deal with ACA United Express a few times and I can say that not one of those times was a very good experience).
We are finally wheel's up at 8:15. Finally (after 45 minutes of mutual thigh abrasion -- oh, but I forget: United does say that "every seat on a CRJ is a first-class seat") we land at ORD and park at F14. Departure monitor shows my connection to MCI is now boarding at C28. It is almost not possible to walk any further for a connection.
Of course it's showing "departed" by the time I get to the C Concourse.
So I go to the RCC and say I have no need to fly the rest of these segments since I can no longer make my breakfast with my friend in MCI. (And knowing that I can now get credit for the originally ticketed segments because it was a United Express misconnect). Please re-book me on the 10am 777 flight direct to SFO. Agent at the RCC was great; sympathetic and very helpful. I had been upgraded on my originally booked segments so she re-booked me in biz. None of the rows' 8's or 9's seats were available, but the load was only about 3/5 in 10-15 and I asked for a window with no one next to me if possible. And so I got 15A. Good! Life is looking up, even if I was disappointed in missing a chance to see a friend in MCI.
ORD-SFO
10:00a
Board with the first few pax. Settle in. But soon a young man comes on. I note that he doesn't look at his boarding pass but simply scans the cabin. I also notice that two FA's are watching him very closely. He picks 15B. OK. No big deal. I nod at him, say good morning, and go back to working on the laptop and listening to channel 9. But every few seconds an FA stops at my new seatmate and says "Are you ok?" or "Don't worry" or "It's going to be alright." I hear from his mouth the words "pass out," "really, really nervous" and "vomit."
In the meantime, in front of me in 14AB a young man and his toddler son settle in. The child is bouncing off the ceilings. (And lest I be misunderstood and before I go much further, let me say that as one who has raised 4 children, I am aware that what I am about to describe is not the child's fault, it's the parents').
We begin to taxi. As we're are taxiing, my seatmate reaches over and clutches my shirt and says "Could you please close all those windows -- I hate takeoffs and think I will pass out if I have to watch." As kindly as I could (really) I say, no, I booked a window seat so I can watch and maybe you could close your eyes or move over in the center where there is no one sitting (and offered to call the FA) and you won't 'have to' see outside. He says, no, I picked this seat because I need people to talk to.
We begin the takeoff roll with a clerance to make a 10 degree turn to the left. We rotate and begin the 10 degree turn. My seatmate again grabs my shirt and softly screams. Then the gear comes up and flaps are coming up. Out shoots the hand and clutches my shirt. I suggest to him that he put on his headphones, listen to Channel 9 and he'll hear what the controllers are telling the pilots to do, or that he listen to music. He puts on the headphones, but does not plug them in. In about 2 minutes -- you guessed it, a hand again clutches my shirt and he says "please stop working and talk to me. I picked this seat so someone would talk to me. I can't stand not having someone to talk to me during takeoff." OK. I talk to him a couple of minutes. He again asks me to put all the windows down.
In the meantime.... I pull out my video screen. The moving map (one of the little highlights for me in 777 Biz class) is inoperative. As is, I discover, the lumbar support adjustment on the seat.
But I have little time to be frustrated as my attention is soon forced to be ever vigilant on the toddler in front of me. He is jumping up and down. Then unbuckling himself and racing towards F. Then throwing things around. Then crying. Then hollering. Then trying to throw things at me. Then hitting his father.
Lunch comes. The toddler makes some sport of dripping drinks on his father's seat. My seatmate asks for a meal and then does not eat it for 45 minutes (but does not want the FA to take it back). Finally, I notice, he picks up the roll (this is the -- surprise!! -- deli plate) precisely rotates the roll 90 degrees, eats half of the bottom half of the roll, then studies it for a time. Then he precisely turns it another 90 degrees, and eats the other half of the bottom of the roll. Then he tells the FA to take it away.
It's time to sleep. So I manage to sleep for an hour or so. I wake to find (thank goodness) we are over the Sierras. My seatmate is calm and toddler is quiet. Quiet enough that father says to him "I'll be right back" and dashes to the lav. Whereupon toddler takes the DVD player upon which they had been watching Barney et al, and throws it as hard as it could on the floor. Father comes back (soft drink in hand) and picks up the pieces (it now was in three parts) of the DVD player and puts it back together. Toddler takes this opportunity to empty soft drink on his seat, his father, and his father's seat. Then begins crying loudly. FA brings father a stack of napkins.
Not once on this entire flight did I ever hear the word "No" escape his lips.
We land we taxi to the gate. I'm free.
(And now for some of your inevitable questions: Why didn't I move? Well, I thought about it. But I had my stuff out, I was in a favorite seat, I'd been up much of the night, and I kept stupidly and optimistically hoping it would all calm down. Was I uncharitable to my seatmate? I honestly don't think so. You may disagree.)
Coda:
I BART'ed home. When I got to my station, my exit ticket wouldn't work. "See Agent! See Agent." So I did. He said, accusatorily: "Where did you get this ticket?" I pointed at the machine outside the fare gate. He said "Well you have a problem." I said, "No sir, you have a problem. The ticket that BART sold me is defective. Please print me a new ticket with the remaining fare value." "Can't do that; have to give you a refund." "OK" Angrily, "You bought this on a credit card." "Yes." "Well, you have a big problem; not easy to fix; lots of paperwork." "No, you have a problem; you sold me a ticket that is defective and you need to fix this." Mutter, mutter, mutter. Paperwork, paperwork. Me: "When will this refund post to my credit card." "Don't know." "Who does know?" "Don't know that either." "Could you find out?" "I could, but I'm not going to."
[This message has been edited by cblaisd (edited Nov 26, 2003).]