Home For Xmas (and my first award flight)
Dec 21, 2010, 7:19 am
#32
Moderator, Trip Reports
Original Poster
Join Date: Jul 2009
Location: Denver, CO
Programs: UA GS-2MM, Marriott Ambassador
Posts: 3,715
I can't stop laughing! 
Dec 22, 2010, 12:02 pm
#35
Join Date: Dec 2004
Location: Florida
Programs: Delta 3MM/PM, Marriott Lifetime Titanium
Posts: 350
Hysterical! 3 co-workers just came to my office to see what was going on as I'm laughing so hard.
Took my (then) 10 year old to Japan - similar attack of the killer toilet. Made promise (still kept) never to tell my wife.
Awesome trip report!
Took my (then) 10 year old to Japan - similar attack of the killer toilet. Made promise (still kept) never to tell my wife.
Awesome trip report!
Dec 22, 2010, 1:02 pm
#36
Join Date: Jan 2010
Programs: AA EXP
Posts: 256
Eightblack,
Thank you, good sir, for what was the hardest laugh I've had in years (I'm still randomly busting into fits of laughter). This is comedic gold (no surprise, your live MR report was excellent). Awesome trip report thus far. ^
A very merry Christmas to you... if you make it there with your sanity intact.
Thank you, good sir, for what was the hardest laugh I've had in years (I'm still randomly busting into fits of laughter). This is comedic gold (no surprise, your live MR report was excellent). Awesome trip report thus far. ^
A very merry Christmas to you... if you make it there with your sanity intact.
Dec 22, 2010, 3:37 pm
#38
Moderator, Trip Reports
Original Poster
Join Date: Jul 2009
Location: Denver, CO
Programs: UA GS-2MM, Marriott Ambassador
Posts: 3,715
Update: ORD to MBS, Wed (have no idea what time...)
Man, this last leg is a killer...
We waved goodbye to the ANA flight and headed for US Immigration - where the motto taped to the back of the lunch room reads;
"Where we welcome you with open arms, latex gloves, and industrial grade lubricant".
Or something like that.
As we headed for the arrivals hall, I curiously asked my son "Hey, did you use the bathroom on that flight?"
He kept walking.
I persisted. "Well, did you?"
He stopped in his tracks and said that he probably didn't need to go to the toilet for 3-weeks - given the "incident" in Tokyo. He held up his right arm and said "speak to the hand, we will discuss this no more".
About the only good thing about travelling with my family is that when we hit the US, I can line up in the US Citizens queue, as opposed to "Visitors". My kids have dual passports and I am the first one to take advantage of their privileges.
Thankfully, the "man with the gun" at CBP wished us happy holidays and within seconds we were standing at the baggage carousel waiting for our luggage.
I was amazed. Our bags were actually in the first wave off the belt. Not destroyed. All in one piece. And with the tags still attached.
We headed for the exit and made our way to the United transfer desk. I then made (what I would discover in a few minutes) a monumental blunder. I ripped the tags off our suitcases because they had served their purpose - as they had BKK-NRT-ORD on them. Our final destination, as far as UA's billion dollar IT system was concerned, had been reached.
I get to the apparently nice lady and unload the bags onto the scales and told her we were heading to MBS and could she tag these for me.
She started foaming at the mouth.
I politely ask her what's wrong
She barks, "Where are the tags?"
"I ripped them off"
"You did what?"
"I ripped them off" I repeated
"What on earth for?" she said incredulously
"Well, this is Chicago is it not? And our bags were only tagged to Chicago."
This was logic even my 10-year old understood.
She said "Do you still have them?"
"Yes", I said, as I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the crumpled up bits of paper, that were once attached to our bags
"Give them to me", she barked
"Why?"
"Because we're going to re-use them"
"You're kidding me?"
"No, I don't kid. I work for UA"
So, the cranky old cow then proceeds to handwrite "MBS" on a sticker and then, using a staple gun that was probably meant for front line battle in Iraq, re-attaches the virtually destroyed bag tags. She empties a "clip" of staples into them - the tags were now more like chain-link rather than a bag identifier.
I started to protest. She wasn't interested. I think I asked why she couldn't simply print off a new tag. A shiny, readable one. One that wouldn't potentially destroy the entire ORD baggage handling system due to the metal content and shrapnel.
She said, "because I would have to charge you $15 as a re-print fee. And that's per bag"
At this point, my son started to tug on my left arm, sensing that both of my arms were about to start waving uncontrollably. He also sensed the "F" word was about to erupt from my now twitching mouth.
He calmly interjected, with a voice of reason…"Dad, its not worth it. There'll be other times. Put down your 1K card and step away from the counter… "
I thought about giving him a damn good thrashing there and then for being so damn logical. But I resisted the urge. He then proceeds to tell me he's hungry and wants a hot-dog.
Right then, lets go.
We head upstairs, jump on the AirTrain and head to Terminal 2. Silly UA park all the puddle jumpers at those god-awful E and F concourses. We then make a beeline to the RCC in Concourse B so we can dump our bags and I can find a place to access the internet.
Then, number one son drags me all over Concourse B, scouring the place for a hot-dog stand. I mistakenly told him that I knew there was one somewhere - as I had seen it recently. Nothing turned up. We then head to Concourse C. It was now officially a mission. He was determined to find the place. And find the place we did.
The lady manning this 5-star culinary outlet didn't seemed phased that a 10-year old boy wanted one of Chicago's finest at 8am in the morning. He inhaled the thing in 2-minutes flat.
"Back to the RCC" I said to him. I needed a Bloody Mary, with a good deal more Mary in it than normal. He rolled his eyes.
He managed to occupy himself with his arsenal of electronics for about 20-minutes when he said "Dad, I'm still hungry"
I said I could actually eat something and told him to pack his things, as we would slowly make our way to the third world country that is affectionately known as Concourse E and F.
I told him we could eat Sushi at this very flash looking place. He gives me the bird and continues walking, as his in built junk-food sonar had hit paydirt and we was closing in fast on a place called Johnny Rockets.
He orders burgers for both of us, 2 of something called "a malt" and and just to be conservative, he said he would be prepared to split a serve of fries. I tell him to find us a table. The place is packed.
The nice person behind the counter repeats back the order to me - but as far as I was concerned, she could have been repeating the launch codes to a nuclear missile. I had no idea what she said. But i certainly understood the last part.
She said "that'll be $35.17"
"Excuse me", I said
"$35.17…" she repeated.
I said that there must be some mistake. 2 hamburgers, 2 milkshakes and 1 serve of french fries couldn't possibly cost this much. Maybe she had combined the previous 16 dinners with our order and that this was an honest mistake.
The young lady could see where this was heading.
"Sir, it's the shakes. They're $7 bucks a piece"
I said "$7 bucks a piece. What the hell is in them - Vodka?"
My son sensed another parental melt-down and came over to find out what all the commotion was about. I told him that I would be selling one of his kidney's on eBay in order to pay for what he just ordered. He told me to get a life.
The food arrived, complete with 3 lipitor tablets. You had to eat the shakes with a snow shovel. He proceeded to eat everything on the tray - much to my horror. I then told him i wasn't going to sit next to him on the plane now. He wasn't impressed.
Finally, there was nothing left in Terminal 2 for the child to eat and it was time to head to the gate.
Now, for those of you who don't know, MBS is in Michigan. Quite where is beyond me. But it's somewhere. It's probably not your first choice of holiday destination.
My mother in law's is 80-miles from the airport.
I have no idea why people fly there. But the puddle jumpers that UA use always seem full. When you depart out of Concourse E or F, you often have to board the plane by the actual aircraft stairs - which means walking out onto the tarmac. It seems a little rural to me. And you don't have to worry about UDU for these regional express flights, as you're lucky that the plane actually shows up and has functional seats in them at all.
I apologise, but there are but a few tales left to this annual trek.
An incident in Chicago which to my son's horror, nearly ended up in a good old fashioned dust up and a story which reminds me why I don't look forward to staying "on the farm".
But they will have to wait.
I am currently sitting in Omaha about to head out to what is possibly the best steak restaurant in the whole world. I am about to consume half a cow.
And will then proceed to have a lie down.
Damn, I'm still to have "the talk" with the boy. But never fear, I have been rehearsing my speech. It is perfect. He will love it. At least, I think he will.
Standby...
We waved goodbye to the ANA flight and headed for US Immigration - where the motto taped to the back of the lunch room reads;
"Where we welcome you with open arms, latex gloves, and industrial grade lubricant".
Or something like that.
As we headed for the arrivals hall, I curiously asked my son "Hey, did you use the bathroom on that flight?"
He kept walking.
I persisted. "Well, did you?"
He stopped in his tracks and said that he probably didn't need to go to the toilet for 3-weeks - given the "incident" in Tokyo. He held up his right arm and said "speak to the hand, we will discuss this no more".
About the only good thing about travelling with my family is that when we hit the US, I can line up in the US Citizens queue, as opposed to "Visitors". My kids have dual passports and I am the first one to take advantage of their privileges.
Thankfully, the "man with the gun" at CBP wished us happy holidays and within seconds we were standing at the baggage carousel waiting for our luggage.
I was amazed. Our bags were actually in the first wave off the belt. Not destroyed. All in one piece. And with the tags still attached.
We headed for the exit and made our way to the United transfer desk. I then made (what I would discover in a few minutes) a monumental blunder. I ripped the tags off our suitcases because they had served their purpose - as they had BKK-NRT-ORD on them. Our final destination, as far as UA's billion dollar IT system was concerned, had been reached.
I get to the apparently nice lady and unload the bags onto the scales and told her we were heading to MBS and could she tag these for me.
She started foaming at the mouth.
I politely ask her what's wrong
She barks, "Where are the tags?"
"I ripped them off"
"You did what?"
"I ripped them off" I repeated
"What on earth for?" she said incredulously
"Well, this is Chicago is it not? And our bags were only tagged to Chicago."
This was logic even my 10-year old understood.
She said "Do you still have them?"
"Yes", I said, as I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the crumpled up bits of paper, that were once attached to our bags
"Give them to me", she barked
"Why?"
"Because we're going to re-use them"
"You're kidding me?"
"No, I don't kid. I work for UA"
So, the cranky old cow then proceeds to handwrite "MBS" on a sticker and then, using a staple gun that was probably meant for front line battle in Iraq, re-attaches the virtually destroyed bag tags. She empties a "clip" of staples into them - the tags were now more like chain-link rather than a bag identifier.
I started to protest. She wasn't interested. I think I asked why she couldn't simply print off a new tag. A shiny, readable one. One that wouldn't potentially destroy the entire ORD baggage handling system due to the metal content and shrapnel.
She said, "because I would have to charge you $15 as a re-print fee. And that's per bag"
At this point, my son started to tug on my left arm, sensing that both of my arms were about to start waving uncontrollably. He also sensed the "F" word was about to erupt from my now twitching mouth.
He calmly interjected, with a voice of reason…"Dad, its not worth it. There'll be other times. Put down your 1K card and step away from the counter… "
I thought about giving him a damn good thrashing there and then for being so damn logical. But I resisted the urge. He then proceeds to tell me he's hungry and wants a hot-dog.
Right then, lets go.
We head upstairs, jump on the AirTrain and head to Terminal 2. Silly UA park all the puddle jumpers at those god-awful E and F concourses. We then make a beeline to the RCC in Concourse B so we can dump our bags and I can find a place to access the internet.
Then, number one son drags me all over Concourse B, scouring the place for a hot-dog stand. I mistakenly told him that I knew there was one somewhere - as I had seen it recently. Nothing turned up. We then head to Concourse C. It was now officially a mission. He was determined to find the place. And find the place we did.
The lady manning this 5-star culinary outlet didn't seemed phased that a 10-year old boy wanted one of Chicago's finest at 8am in the morning. He inhaled the thing in 2-minutes flat.
"Back to the RCC" I said to him. I needed a Bloody Mary, with a good deal more Mary in it than normal. He rolled his eyes.
He managed to occupy himself with his arsenal of electronics for about 20-minutes when he said "Dad, I'm still hungry"
I said I could actually eat something and told him to pack his things, as we would slowly make our way to the third world country that is affectionately known as Concourse E and F.
I told him we could eat Sushi at this very flash looking place. He gives me the bird and continues walking, as his in built junk-food sonar had hit paydirt and we was closing in fast on a place called Johnny Rockets.
He orders burgers for both of us, 2 of something called "a malt" and and just to be conservative, he said he would be prepared to split a serve of fries. I tell him to find us a table. The place is packed.
The nice person behind the counter repeats back the order to me - but as far as I was concerned, she could have been repeating the launch codes to a nuclear missile. I had no idea what she said. But i certainly understood the last part.
She said "that'll be $35.17"
"Excuse me", I said
"$35.17…" she repeated.
I said that there must be some mistake. 2 hamburgers, 2 milkshakes and 1 serve of french fries couldn't possibly cost this much. Maybe she had combined the previous 16 dinners with our order and that this was an honest mistake.
The young lady could see where this was heading.
"Sir, it's the shakes. They're $7 bucks a piece"
I said "$7 bucks a piece. What the hell is in them - Vodka?"
My son sensed another parental melt-down and came over to find out what all the commotion was about. I told him that I would be selling one of his kidney's on eBay in order to pay for what he just ordered. He told me to get a life.
The food arrived, complete with 3 lipitor tablets. You had to eat the shakes with a snow shovel. He proceeded to eat everything on the tray - much to my horror. I then told him i wasn't going to sit next to him on the plane now. He wasn't impressed.
Finally, there was nothing left in Terminal 2 for the child to eat and it was time to head to the gate.
Now, for those of you who don't know, MBS is in Michigan. Quite where is beyond me. But it's somewhere. It's probably not your first choice of holiday destination.
My mother in law's is 80-miles from the airport.
I have no idea why people fly there. But the puddle jumpers that UA use always seem full. When you depart out of Concourse E or F, you often have to board the plane by the actual aircraft stairs - which means walking out onto the tarmac. It seems a little rural to me. And you don't have to worry about UDU for these regional express flights, as you're lucky that the plane actually shows up and has functional seats in them at all.
I apologise, but there are but a few tales left to this annual trek.
An incident in Chicago which to my son's horror, nearly ended up in a good old fashioned dust up and a story which reminds me why I don't look forward to staying "on the farm".
But they will have to wait.
I am currently sitting in Omaha about to head out to what is possibly the best steak restaurant in the whole world. I am about to consume half a cow.
And will then proceed to have a lie down.
Damn, I'm still to have "the talk" with the boy. But never fear, I have been rehearsing my speech. It is perfect. He will love it. At least, I think he will.
Standby...
Last edited by eightblack; Dec 22, 2010 at 3:48 pm Reason: Typo. And spilled the wine glass.
Dec 22, 2010, 4:14 pm
#39
Join Date: Nov 2008
Location: CA, USA
Programs: BA Executive Gold, QF Bronze
Posts: 151
if you want to predict what your wife will look like in 15-20 years just look at her mum. It's a iron rule that has stood the test of time!
Dec 26, 2010, 2:30 pm
#43
Join Date: Jun 2010
Location: MCI, or a Delta Jet
Programs: Delta DM!
Posts: 513
Kudos to you on this amazing and witty TR.... Are you still in Omaha? Probably I've missed you, but I would have loved to have been a part of the cow consumption.. That's all we do here!
Dec 26, 2010, 10:04 pm
#44
Join Date: Mar 2005
Location: West of CLE
Programs: Delta DM/3 MM; Hertz PC; National EE; Amtrak GR; Bonvoy Silver; Via Rail Préférence
Posts: 5,384
Could This Be the Quote of the Year