The Friendly Skies Turn Hostile
Introduction: To support my motorcycle habit, i.e., earn a paycheck, I often have to travel. That travel is often done overseas. In days past this used to be fun. But, like licking walls with lead paint and beating your kids, things that used to be considered normal and fun suddenly seem to be frowned upon. That, of course, includes travel. Before departing on my adventure I found it necessary to make one final trip overseas. This one was to Sweden, a frequent destination. Getting to Sweden has gotten a bit more difficult as airlines worldwide have cut their services and options. To fly to Stockholm from the U.S., the only realistic choice is SAS airlines. It’s a fine airline, and like many non-American airlines, they still treat the traveler with some sense of dignity. The same, however, cannot be said of United Airlines. And unfortunately, since I reside on the west coast, it is necessary to use United Airlines to complete the U. S. portion of the travel. I have long loathed United Airlines – for various reasons. But my disdain and disgust has reached new heights after my most recent experience. An experience resulting from the mere inability to do simple math.
The Story: Those who fly often know well that there is a certain point after the doors are closed by which the pushback should begin. When that moment passes and there is no motion, there is an inherent knowledge that something is not quite right. Being on a ground hold, waiting for extra bags to load, getting de-iced, these are normal things. Waiting more than 20 minutes without hearing anything is not normal. This is what I was mulling over when an announcement came from the captain telling us that we were somehow too heavy for takeoff and they were working with dispatch to try and figure out what to do. Suddenly (after a half hour) it occurred to them that they could remove fuel, which we were told would take 45 minutes or so. Now, don’tcha think they’ve figured out the fuel load, oh, about 100,000 times or so? How hard can it be to calculate weight times fuel consumption and balance that out with the miles to destination? Apparently it is quite difficult. Or someone at United Airlines doesn’t know how to use a calculator very well. Finally, well over an hour behind already, and devoid of unnecessary fuel and weight, we taxied out to take off. Only we didn’t. The captain came back on the PA to inform us that we were still 2,000 lbs too heavy. So back to the gate we went. The flight attendant rather sheepishly asked four people who had gotten on the flight as standby’s to gather their stuff and depart from the plane (actually they said deplane, which always makes me think of George Carlin's routine, where he ponders whether getting off a boat is referred to as de-boating - but I digress). Unless these four people each weighed, oh, about 500 lbs I couldn’t see how having them de-plane/disembark/bail out would help much. Plus the baggage handlers had to figure out which bags were theirs and remove them from the hold, since it’s now illegal for passenger and bag to fly separately (but that somehow doesn’t count when the airline loses your bag). After a few minutes, the standby’s, looking somewhat mystified (but relieved), came back on the plane (re-planed?) and took their seats. With no word as to why or how, it seems that we were somehow OK to take off now. I was theorizing that either they had removed the tail section, or simply opened the gas cap, so we could dump fuel as we took off. We were all trembling with fear as we rumbled down the runway, wondering if we still might be too heavy, but to our amazement we managed to get off of the ground without clipping any rooftops. Relief, but at this point I knew I had no chance to make my connection in Chicago, so there wasn’t a whole lot to do but get to O’Hare and take it from there.
Upon arriving in Chicago, my connection was already scheduled to have departed, but I went to the SAS check-in desk anyway, in hopes that the flight might be late. No such luck. In fact, there were no people at the check-in desk at all. There was a sign saying that the desk was not manned between 4:45 and 5:45 p.m. Trouble was, it was 4:30. And it was not manned. But they had a number to call, which I did. The number, when answered, said “Our offices are closed, please use the SAS website.” Wonderful. An entire airline's offices are closed. To get on the internet at O’Hare you have to pay seven bucks, which I was not about to do. So I attempted to use my Blackberry as a tether. Didn’t work. So I used my Blackberry web browser, which was painful as hell, but did get me to the SAS website after around 30 minutes of fumbling and slow (so-called) 3G service. Moving around the site to try to solve my problem ended up referring me to…..you guessed it, the same number which tells you the offices are closed. At this point I did my best Randy Johnson impersonation, throwing, with impressive velocity, my briefcase straight into my luggage which was stacked in front of the check in desk, nailing it perfectly (and satisfyingly) dispersing my stacked luggage like bowling pins. This not only attracted the attention of several awestruck and strange looking foreigners checking in next door on Jordanian Airlines and not insignificantly, some TSA folks. I glared at them all, and must have scared them all off, because nobody came near me. After calming down a bit I went for a bite to eat, because I decided I was starving. Not to mention a little on edge. As luck would have it, the dining table next to me had the “junior” portion of that Jordanian Airlines flight all gathered around chowing down on McDonald's burgers and fries. About 15 little 5 to 7 year old raghead bastards with three chaperone women, covered head to toe in towels, and not doing a thing to keep these kids in line. Screaming, yelling, slapping, and screaming some more. I thought about giving them some of the briefcase treatment too, but managed some restraint. After that experience I went back to the SAS desk where people were lining up for the only other flight, which was still five hours away. One of the check-in agents came out to kindly ask us if we had tried the check-in kiosk instead, but I think that the look of fury on my face told him that the kiosk was not exactly in my plans. Or maybe he was aware of my fine briefcase tossing abilities. He allowed me to explain my plight and informed me that they had another flight leaving for Copenhagen at 10:00 p.m. Unfortunately, that was sold out. Not to mention five hours away. But they offered to let me wait on a standby basis and fortunately, since I was in Business Class, they let me hang in the first class lounge. For some reason the hostess at the lounge check-in desk instinctively ducked when she saw me come through the door. I checked in and…..relaxed.
Long story short, I not only made the flight, but maintained the Business Class status. So off I went to Copenhagen. We arrived around nine hours later without incident. Not quite Stockholm, but closer than I was when in Chicago. It seems, though, that SAS hadn’t taken the action to get me past Copenhagen. Stockholm is where I was supposed to be. About six hours prior to the current time. So off I went again to SAS customer service – where I was informed that all flights to Stockholm were sold out. Terrific. I got on the phone (which somehow remained intact in the briefcase incident) to make plans to rent a car to drive to my final destination, but I was suddenly informed that they found a 2:30 flight for me into Stockholm. However, the agent told me that I would have to buy a ticket from Copenhagen to Stockholm. I somehow maintained some composure and showed her my original ticket, which clearly listed Stockholm as my final destination, and explained that their fine Star Alliance partner, United Airlines, had caused all of this method with their inability to figure out how much fuel an airplane needs to get from Point A to Point B. I thought about subtly positioning my briefcase in the windup position, figuring the legend of my tossing abilities had already reached Europe. She quickly picked up the phone and jabbered something (I could swear I heard words closely resembling “Randy Johnson” in there) and what do you know, I was presented with a complimentary ticket flying me from Copenhagen to Stockholm. So off I went to Stockholm. Upon arrival, now devoid of sleep for 28 hours, I was somewhat surprised to see my suitcase arrive on the baggage belt (they don’t use carrousels much in Europe) and made my way to the Avis car rental counter. Where I was told that the car that I had waiting for me was gone because they showed me arriving the day before. Fortunately, they were able to scrounge a car up for me, (though my Swedish colleagues keep looking at the “car” and ask me “what the hell is that???”) It is truly the ugliest four wheel contraption I’ve ever seen. But at that point I didn’t care. I’d been up for almost 30 hours by this point, and I still had a five hour drive. Somehow I made it. I credit Red Bull and Bilars. If you don't know what Bilars are, you've never been to Sweden. Or IKEA. But trust me, if you have been awake (and abused) for 30 hours, Red Bull and Bilars are the answer.
So there – that’s why I loathe and detest United Airlines. All that because some moron couldn’t figure out how much fuel to put in the airplane. It may be a bit of an understatement, but this has not been one of my better trips. So far. And I’ve still got two weeks to go! I figure after this, 48 states in two weeks should be nothing at all. I can assure you, however, that I will be quite sure to calculate and properly fill my motorcycle's fuel tank to ensure that I will have the ability to get from gas station to gas station. Or maybe somehow lose 500 pounds.
