Some tips I learned on my trip eastward from San Francisco...
1) Never take United Airlines. Or US Airways. Which are apparently the same thing and both equally horrible. I'm used to walking pretty much straight up to the ticket counter, so I was cutting it close when I arrived about an hour and ten minutes early for my flight on Monday morning. The airport was pretty calm in general, but suddenly, out of nowhere, it was like a solid quarter mile of bedlam throughout the entire United Airlines area. Nobody could tell where lines began or ended; there were just five lanes of crying babies and suitcases and stressed out travelers yelling back and forth with snappy flight attendants. I was similarly belligerent from the second I stepped into line. I knew for sure I was going to miss my flight but I felt absolutely unapologetic about it, considering the circumstances. Even when one of the snappy flight attendants let me duck under the rope and cut an entire lane of people because they hadn't been paying enough attention (great customer service), I was still about a minute too late, and then it took me ten minutes to even get myself verified because none of my ID's would swipe and none of the so-called United Airlines employees wandering around would agree to give me any help.
So after the non-surprising message that my flight had already boarded, I stalked over to berate one of them, who curtly pointed me in the direction of a customer assistance line which was, unsurprisingly, just as long as the one I had just been in, since everyone in front of me had also missed their flights. And so began a theme which continued throughout the day, of bonding with fellow disgruntled passengers. The wandering employee who, trying to be helpful, told us that every day was like this, was met with raised eyebrows and cold disdain. "Ah, maybe that means they should make some freaking changes," the blondes en route to Hawaii and I sneered once she was out of our midst.
I was put on an 11:00 flight to Pittsburgh, which meant I would still make my original transfer, so I was temporarily mollified, especially when I checked in anew at a US Airways counter where the lines were much shorter both at ticketing and security. I ate a delicious breakfast burrito and read the latest Rolling Stone. But my cheer started to dissipate when my flight was delayed until 11:30. Then 11:45. At 12:15 they sort of maybe started getting ready to board us. But none of us could tell because the woman holding the loudspeaker was holding it too close to her face and sounded, according to the elderly woman next to me, "just like that teacher in Charlie Brown." More confusion and belligerence toward US Airways ensued. At about 12:30 we finally boarded. We took our sweet old time moving down the runway, much to the consternation of a large group of Texans who, I swear to God, spent the entire six hour period that I observed them, from pre-flight to during flight to landing, analyzing whether or not they were going to make their transfer. They even had one of the flight attendants sucked into their anxiety, calling him over every ten minutes for the latest on what state we were flying over, and what knot the tailwinds were blowing at.
So you can imagine the collective response when we finally landed, only to roll to a stop on the runway. We taxied for an inordinately long time ("Is he taking us to the maintenance shed?" the men in front of me pondered), then stopped again.
"Sorry folks, but there's been a thunderstorm, and the runway is wet," said the pilot. This was an apology sufficient for no one. He would keep starting and stopping the plane again, and each time we stopped an entire wave of belligerent passengers, late for their transfers, would stand up and reach for their luggage. To which the stewardesses would snap and actually make violent acts of restraint (one closed the overhead bin vehemently, almost catching my neighbor's hand) while the pilot continued on with messages meant to placate us.
"We're about 25 yards from the gate," he-literally- offered helpfully.
So it was in another scene of bedlam that a mass exodus was finally made from the plane, and of course that just made everything take longer than necessary, and we all left in a spirit of Unity and Determination to phone in scathing complaints to United Airlines the second we got home. I rushed to my next flight only to find that it was delayed an hour as well. And then we took about an hour on the runway but by that time I was unphased by anything. Not even the thunderstorms on the way to Manchester. Not even the fact that they lost my luggage, and I had to wait in another long line to resolve that, since obviously they had lost practically everyone's luggage. We all stood and waited and let the sweet irony sink in as we watched some teenage employees being ordered to count the suitcases that had turned up- in error- at Manchester. 42. 42 bags that belonged to the people who, in turn, had gotten our bags somewhere else. Or not, since the man inside informed me that my bags were still en route to Philly or had possibly never even left San Francisco.
I didn't even care at that point. I just told him very calmly and belligerently that this had been the absolute absurdly worst flying experience of my life and I wanted the 25$ to check my bag refunded, and he complied, and then I was finally on my way home. Once in my parent's car I contemplated how when looking at my itinerary for my trip I had gotten annoyed at two things; I didn't want a five hour layover in Philly (as originally scheduled), and I didn't want to pay any money for my luggage.
2) So I guess the second thing I learned would be, be careful what you wish for. Or at least specific.
3) And the third thing would be not to pack a jar of brown powdered alpaca poop in your carry on luggage when going through heightened airport security.
I guess for most people, this goes without saying. But it was something that really didn't occur to me until standing barefoot in airport security wondering what was taking my stuff so long.
Oh, you want to know why on earth I would be carrying such a thing onboard a flight? You're just like the goddamn airport police. Because it just so happens Luke's family owns an alpaca farm. And they discovered the poo is a good fertilizer and got really excited about marketing it, and sent a whole box of jars to Luke, and so over the course of time it was only natural that one of these jars would fall into my possession. And so when coming across it last minute in my stuff and debating whether or not to throw it out, I realized it would make a wonderful present for my mother, since all I ever give her are scarves and earrings. So that's why I had alpaca poo in my carry-on, and the police let me take it under the condition that I promise not to open it up on the flight, even if it wasn't lethal.
And my mother was overjoyed with her present of alpaca poo. In fact, much more than she ever was with any of the scarves or earrings. Hmph!
4) When packing a bottle full of powdery green spirulina, make sure it is actually shut.
5) Breakfast burritos at the airport. Mmm.
6) The End. Except never, ever take United Airlines or US Airways. Although you do meet a lot of people in the process. And unleash your inner belligerence. And it could be a good way to get your luggage sent for free! I'm tired. Now it's really the end.
