From the point of view of someone nobody's ever heard of (outside of the quiet little world of coal mine design, perhaps), the concierge service has been an absolute livesaver, even though (especially though/) **they've** probably never heard of me, either.

All I know of it, really, is that when IRROPS strike, the YVR and YEG concierges swing into action, utterly in the background from my point of view, and fix things. A smiling person in a black blazer meets me at my incoming gate amidst an Edmonton blizzard, hands me a new set of boarding-pases, and sometimes even offers me a cart-ride to the gate of the replacement flight. That level of **reliable** proactive service is far more likely to keep me travelling on AC metal, than any number of 'free' swigs of Scotch-in-coffee whilst aloft.

Latest 'thank you' go to two concierges in Vancouver: one whose name I didn't get, but who got me out of a last-minute jam with finding wrapping-paper for an anniversary gift (ayuh, trivial thing, innit? but at the time it was urgent!) and another one, Karen, who embarked on an exercise of tracking me down to offer me new boarding-passes after a flight cancellation (of which I was quite unaware as I had politely switched-off my phone whilst in the MLL).

The appreciation that sticks in my mind is this: one needn't be a politician, a movie-star, a VIP of some eldritch sort; one simply needs to need their services, and there they are.

Bravo Zulu, concierges!

(My apologies for not having a signed photograph for your wall of pictures, but I can always promise you a nicely-wrapped lump of bright shiny coal if you want one for your children's holiday-gifts!)