Flying the Unfriendly Skies

Yesterday I mentioned that Agnes was ready to leave for her trip to Las Vegas to attend a special course on IRA planning and related legal topics, a course her employer sends her to every two years. This was to be her third session, and by now the gild has worn off the lily ... she wasn't looking forward to the trip, other than as a break from the usual routine and the opportunity for us to spend some time together on a mini-vacation when I fly out to meet her on Thursday. As a result, she was dragging her feet more than usual yesterday morning with her last-minute packing and organization. Nevertheless, we made it out of the house more or less on time, and showed up at Washington Dulles Airport at about 1:00 PM to check in for her 2:35 PM flight to Las Vegas on United Airlines.

But then Murphy showed up.

Agnes had booked an electronic ticket, and when she got to the check-in counter, she dutifully stuck her credit card into the designated slot to retrieve her reservation. The system churned and fretted for a few seconds, then announced it couldn't find a reservation in her name. Agnes went white (she's actually pretty pale to begin with, so that was quite a reaction). She tried again. Same result. We called for non-automated assistance. A uniformed human being appeared, got the same result, and directed us to a different counter to sort out the problem. We went there, and a friendly but not especially helpful lady poked Agnes's name into her computer and found ...

Nothing.

No reservation in Agnes's name to anywhere at any time on United. She found the reservation I'd made for this coming Thursday (with a Sunday return booked on the same flight Agnes had already scheduled), but nothing for Agnes. And oh-by-the-way, all the other direct and connecting United flights to Las Vegas through Monday afternoon were fully booked by people who were not Agnes.

We jumped up and down, but to no avail, and so went looking for something ... anything ... on another airline. As it turned out, Jet Blue had space on a direct flight to Las Vegas departing at 9:00 PM, arriving at 11:05 PM (2:05 AM Washington DC time). After some agonizing about price (since she'd already paid for a non-existent flight on United), Agnes gritted her pearly white teeth and booked the later flight.

Luckily, her course doesn't actually begin until 1:00 PM today, so her delay getting to Las Vegas wasn't a complete disaster and she has some extra time to rest up after the red-eye arrival. But it still deprived her of the chance to arrive on time, get settled in her room, have a leisurely dinner, and get a good night's sleep before starting a very demanding and high-intensity course.

The story doesn't end there, of course. After getting Agnes packed off, I went home and got on the phone to United Airlines to figure out what happened. I ended up speaking with a drone named Neal who claimed he found Agnes's reservation with no trouble, and she was a no-show for the flight.

At this point, I got a little hot.

I explained to Neal that not one but two United gate agents (whose names I fortunately had recorded) at Dulles Airport had searched the system and found no reservation in Agnes's name, and I wasn't listening to any sentences that contained the words "no-show." After much time spent in back-and-forth arguing and (in my case) on hold, Neal grudgingly allowed that there might have been a problem. He arranged (and "confirmed," whatever that means in this context) for Agnes to keep the original return flight (on which I was already booked), and offered the standard airline olive branch: a voucher for a future flight in an amount equal to some arcanely-calculated portion of the cost of the flight she hadn't taken. No refunds, of course. I think all airlines are run by Ferengi (the Star Trek characters whose culture is based on hard-nosed commerce), whose First Rule of Acquisition is "Once you have their money, never give it back."

So ...

I think Agnes is now in Las Vegas. She said she wouldn't call when she got in since it would be so late here, but I'm waiting to hear from her sometime this morning to know she's okay. I'll let you know.

In the meantime, the lesson for the modern air traveler is: take a bus. We learned yesterday that even if you have a confirmed reservation, it doesn't necessarily mean anything, and the airlines don't feel obligated to fix problems for you, even if they are the ones who screwed up in the first place. Air travel, if never actually "fun," at least used to be tolerable. Flights were generally on time, passengers weren't treated like cattle, and customer service was something on which airlines prided themselves.

No more.

Between the relentless pressures of revenue generation, security considerations, and grossly overcrowded flights and airways, air travel is something to be dreaded rather than anticipated. Try to guess how much I'm looking forward to my trip later this week.

No, don't. I don't want you to think I know that sort of language.

Have a good day. More thoughts coming.

Bilbo