Proposition: Stop Flying
Well, not entirely. I mean, I'm not afraid of flying. But given that the last three times I have flown from Chicago to Charlottesville have been unmitigated founts of sheer frustration, I really am considering alternative travel options for the next mom visit. It doesn't matter what airline you fly. It doesn't matter how much time you allot to make your connection. Either you will miss your connection or face customer "service" incompetence and/or lack of concern so egregious that it defies human comprehension. Or all of the above.
That was the perfect storm that awaited as I left work about one or so last Thursday afternoon to visit my mom and take in Waynesboro's famed Fall Foliage Festival (this year, sans much fall foliage... but more on that in the next post).
I arrived at O'Hare to find that my flight to Charlotte, where I was connecting to Charlottesville, was delayed more that two hours. Which made it certain that I would miss the connection. So... I trundled off to the United customer service counter to see what could be done. At least United HAS a customer service counter at O'Hare, with real live breathing (but perhaps not adequately cogitating) humans working there... unlike American and their disconnected phones. (See trip to the Bahamas, back in June.)
Since my connecting flight was on US Airways, the rep could not just shift my reservation to the only other flight into C'ville that evening: a 10:00 departure. But she did make a big show of putting me on the standby list. At this point, I'm thinking that I might have to stay overnight in Charlotte and just fly out first thing in the morning... But then, after I've been sitting and reading the Beatles bio for an hour or so, it occurs to me that there might be another flight that will get me within striking distance of Waynesboro: Shenandoah Valley, maybe? So I trundle back to the customer service desk, and end up talking to a different rep. Who lets me know that no... there is no record of my being put on the standby list. But she'll do it for me. And no, she can't put me on a flight to any other destination than C'ville because I checked a bag through to there. Hmm.
The flight to Charlotte finally takes off two-and-a-half hours late. At least it is uneventful, although we were on approach to the airport for half the time of the flight, I swear. Sigh.
Upon arrival, I head to the US Airways customer service desk to check on my standby status, only to be told that the 10:00 flight to C'ville (which has now been delayed to 10:30, making the chances of the rental car counters being open upon arrival in Mr. Jefferson's own city iffy, to say the least...) has almost checked in full. Ah well. I'll just book a hotel room, and the agent can shift me to the first flight out in the morning.
"Oh, no," says the Sally Jesse Raphael look-alike who is "helping" me. "I don't think there are any hotel rooms available. It's NASCAR week here in Charlotte, you know."
No. I did not know.
"Well, there might be something." She hands me a slip of paper with a hotel clearinghouse number on it. I trundle off to call it. My first mistake. I should have at least had HER call it. But as you already have sussed, there were no rooms to be had in Charlotte. NASCAR-obsessed bastards.
I head back to customer service, where this time I am "served" by some Drew Carey wannabe with a shaved head. He's no help either. While I am trying to figure out what to do (rent a car in Charlotte and drive five hours or more to Waynesboro?), I overhear Sally Jesse giving the person SHE is "serving" a hotel voucher and explaining to him how to catch the shuttle thereto.
"Wait just a minute," I say. "You told me there were no hotel rooms."
"He gave up his seat on an overbooked flight."
"So, you DO have some hotel rooms reserved."
"Yes, but only for those who give up their seats."
"What about for those who lose their seats to missed connections?"
"That was United's flight. It has nothing to do with us." (And yes, I had gone down this avenue in Chicago: United claimed that the delay was caused by air-traffic control, and so was not *their* fault.)
"Look, I'm not asking you to pay for my room. I'll pay for my room. If you could just arrange for me to HAVE a room for the night?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"I'm sure you are. So... does the airport have some kind of accommodations for stranded travelers?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"So, you're telling me that I have to sleep on the floor or sitting up in a chair..."
"Yep. Sorry."
Oh, yeah. And in the midst of all this, he suggests that I can get my bags so that I will at least have a change of clothes.
I'm game.
Then, after he has called to arrange for my bag to be sent to Charlotte baggage claim... and ONLY THEN... does he tell me that it will take about 45 minutes. I blew a gasket--because if I was going to rent a car there, I wanted to make sure I could get on the road fast (by this time, it's about 9:30... and if by some miracle someone has a mishap on their way to the precious flight, I just MIGHT get on board...I'm way past thinking straight...). I make chrome dome call and have my bag restored to the flight to C'ville... but now I'm not all that sure where it may end up.
I head back to the gate, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, there might be some chance. But no... everyone has checked in and anyway, I'm third on the list. As I'm talking to the gate agent, making sure that if I walk away from this connection and drive to Waynesboro, my return flights will still be valid, a confirmed passenger steps forward. Have I considered flying into Lynchburg or Roanoke? The gate agent looks: There are seven seats still available on the Lynchburg flight, which is boarding.... NOW!
The gate agent gets me a boarding pass, I run to the gate and out to the plane... at least Lynchburg is only an hour and a half from Waynesboro, and I'm pretty sure that even if their Avis counter is closed for the night, there will be a hotel room available.
But the Avis counter is open! And I rent a car for only a small amount more than I would have in C'ville (the drop-off charge for returning it to C'ville rather than Lynchburg).
And I am on the road.
I arrive at my mom's doorstep a little after 1:00 am... 11 hours after my adventure began.
It takes all of 14 hours to drive from my door in Chicago to her door in Waynesboro.
And the next day, I drive to C'ville and retrieve my bag--which, miracle of miracles, is THERE!
Really... air travel is beyond frustrating. Amtrak, as it turns out, takes a bit more than 18 hours... And I know from experience that it gets delayed too. But there's something very attractive about moving forward most of the time. And if you get a sleeper, at least you have a bed.
Feh.
Next up, fun in the big W.
That was the perfect storm that awaited as I left work about one or so last Thursday afternoon to visit my mom and take in Waynesboro's famed Fall Foliage Festival (this year, sans much fall foliage... but more on that in the next post).
I arrived at O'Hare to find that my flight to Charlotte, where I was connecting to Charlottesville, was delayed more that two hours. Which made it certain that I would miss the connection. So... I trundled off to the United customer service counter to see what could be done. At least United HAS a customer service counter at O'Hare, with real live breathing (but perhaps not adequately cogitating) humans working there... unlike American and their disconnected phones. (See trip to the Bahamas, back in June.)
Since my connecting flight was on US Airways, the rep could not just shift my reservation to the only other flight into C'ville that evening: a 10:00 departure. But she did make a big show of putting me on the standby list. At this point, I'm thinking that I might have to stay overnight in Charlotte and just fly out first thing in the morning... But then, after I've been sitting and reading the Beatles bio for an hour or so, it occurs to me that there might be another flight that will get me within striking distance of Waynesboro: Shenandoah Valley, maybe? So I trundle back to the customer service desk, and end up talking to a different rep. Who lets me know that no... there is no record of my being put on the standby list. But she'll do it for me. And no, she can't put me on a flight to any other destination than C'ville because I checked a bag through to there. Hmm.
The flight to Charlotte finally takes off two-and-a-half hours late. At least it is uneventful, although we were on approach to the airport for half the time of the flight, I swear. Sigh.
Upon arrival, I head to the US Airways customer service desk to check on my standby status, only to be told that the 10:00 flight to C'ville (which has now been delayed to 10:30, making the chances of the rental car counters being open upon arrival in Mr. Jefferson's own city iffy, to say the least...) has almost checked in full. Ah well. I'll just book a hotel room, and the agent can shift me to the first flight out in the morning.
"Oh, no," says the Sally Jesse Raphael look-alike who is "helping" me. "I don't think there are any hotel rooms available. It's NASCAR week here in Charlotte, you know."
No. I did not know.
"Well, there might be something." She hands me a slip of paper with a hotel clearinghouse number on it. I trundle off to call it. My first mistake. I should have at least had HER call it. But as you already have sussed, there were no rooms to be had in Charlotte. NASCAR-obsessed bastards.
I head back to customer service, where this time I am "served" by some Drew Carey wannabe with a shaved head. He's no help either. While I am trying to figure out what to do (rent a car in Charlotte and drive five hours or more to Waynesboro?), I overhear Sally Jesse giving the person SHE is "serving" a hotel voucher and explaining to him how to catch the shuttle thereto.
"Wait just a minute," I say. "You told me there were no hotel rooms."
"He gave up his seat on an overbooked flight."
"So, you DO have some hotel rooms reserved."
"Yes, but only for those who give up their seats."
"What about for those who lose their seats to missed connections?"
"That was United's flight. It has nothing to do with us." (And yes, I had gone down this avenue in Chicago: United claimed that the delay was caused by air-traffic control, and so was not *their* fault.)
"Look, I'm not asking you to pay for my room. I'll pay for my room. If you could just arrange for me to HAVE a room for the night?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"I'm sure you are. So... does the airport have some kind of accommodations for stranded travelers?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"So, you're telling me that I have to sleep on the floor or sitting up in a chair..."
"Yep. Sorry."
Oh, yeah. And in the midst of all this, he suggests that I can get my bags so that I will at least have a change of clothes.
I'm game.
Then, after he has called to arrange for my bag to be sent to Charlotte baggage claim... and ONLY THEN... does he tell me that it will take about 45 minutes. I blew a gasket--because if I was going to rent a car there, I wanted to make sure I could get on the road fast (by this time, it's about 9:30... and if by some miracle someone has a mishap on their way to the precious flight, I just MIGHT get on board...I'm way past thinking straight...). I make chrome dome call and have my bag restored to the flight to C'ville... but now I'm not all that sure where it may end up.
I head back to the gate, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, there might be some chance. But no... everyone has checked in and anyway, I'm third on the list. As I'm talking to the gate agent, making sure that if I walk away from this connection and drive to Waynesboro, my return flights will still be valid, a confirmed passenger steps forward. Have I considered flying into Lynchburg or Roanoke? The gate agent looks: There are seven seats still available on the Lynchburg flight, which is boarding.... NOW!
The gate agent gets me a boarding pass, I run to the gate and out to the plane... at least Lynchburg is only an hour and a half from Waynesboro, and I'm pretty sure that even if their Avis counter is closed for the night, there will be a hotel room available.
But the Avis counter is open! And I rent a car for only a small amount more than I would have in C'ville (the drop-off charge for returning it to C'ville rather than Lynchburg).
And I am on the road.
I arrive at my mom's doorstep a little after 1:00 am... 11 hours after my adventure began.
It takes all of 14 hours to drive from my door in Chicago to her door in Waynesboro.
And the next day, I drive to C'ville and retrieve my bag--which, miracle of miracles, is THERE!
Really... air travel is beyond frustrating. Amtrak, as it turns out, takes a bit more than 18 hours... And I know from experience that it gets delayed too. But there's something very attractive about moving forward most of the time. And if you get a sleeper, at least you have a bed.
Feh.
Next up, fun in the big W.
Labels: airport travel angst, Charlotte is hell, customer "service"
posted by Cathy VanPatten at 6:51 PM
3 Comments:
Serious, serious suckage, but I'm SO glad you made it to the 'boro without embarking upon a five-county killing spree, justified or not.
Would a new Jim Woodring painting help dissipate the anger?
Oh, and for what what it's worth, othersshare your frustration.
A new Jim Woodring painting WOULD salve the ache just a bit!
And wow--the comments to the Chris Case article just seethe, don't they?
If only the train were a daily event (it appears to be every other day or a couple/three times a week), it might just be a viable option... although in my experience, being delayed on Amtrak is the rule rather than the exeption.
Although that's no different from any given flight leaving O'Hare.
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