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  • Getting There From Here…

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    I actually enjoy flying.

    Well, allow me to qualify that – I used to enjoy flying.  Unfortunately, not so much anymore.  I’ve talked about this in the past, and the reason I gave for air travel falling from favor was more centered upon the BS one must deal with on the ground – such as the “hurry up and wait” factor as well as the TSA just to name two. Don’t get me wrong here… I’ve met many wonderful TSA folk. People who are doing a job and try to make it run smooth and easy because they understand how trying the whole process can be. But, there are also those – and it seems, unfortunately, that they make up the majority – who are on a power trip and take great delight in being assholes.

    Well, I’m not here to talk to you about the TSA today. I’m actually here to talk to you about Airborne Waitresses. I’m sure that euphemism will get me in trouble, but what the hell. Apparently I am born to be in trouble.

    My story begins on Friday last. I was bound for Texas to present at the Ostara Festival and sign books at Sisters of the Earth and Sea. Like the rest of us, bookstores have been hit by the downturn in the economy, therefore they do what they can to cut costs. In this instance, they booked me on the redeye. No biggie. I can sleep when I’m dead.

    So, anyway, I was up at 3AM and then E K & the O-spring dropped me off at the airport around 4:20. After standing in line, checking my bag, standing in line again, farting about with TSA, having my CPAP inspected, swabbed, detected, tested, and otherwise scrutinized, I was on my way to my gate. Eventually, after I spent time sitting around with other half-snoozing folks the airline announced that the flight was oversold and that they needed to bump at least three people. Normally I jump on this since they get you there anyway AND give you a voucher. This time, however, I sat still. But, as the minutes ticked by they became more and more adamant that they had to bump some people. And so, finally, I gave in and tested the waters. Once I was certain they could get me to my destination at a reasonable hour – especially since I had a connection to make – I told them I would fall on my sword for them.

    So, I stood off to the side and set the wheels into motion that would notify those who needed to know that I would in fact be arriving later than scheduled. Then, a completely different ball started rolling, and as it continued downhill it picked up both speed and a healthy dose of ka-ka. Why? Because it needed to fling poo on me when it reached the bottom.

    The American Airlines gate agent called my name and told me that they didn’t need to bump me after all. I had stood there watching them put standby passengers on the plane (or so it appeared) – something I thought odd to begin with, given that they had bumped three confirmed passengers, but whatever. Who was I to complain? I was going to be receiving a $300 voucher. Or, so I thought. Now, instead of the voucher I was being put back on the flight.

    Having watched the prior mess, when the agent handed me my original boarding pass I asked, “Am I still sitting in the same seat?”

    “You should be,” he told me.

    The phrase “should be” obviously should have told me something. But, in my defense, it was early and I took his words at face value.

    I boarded the plane and made my way back down the length of the MD-80 to my assigned seat – 31D. Of course, it was occupied. I spoke to the lady, then asked the Flight Attendant standing there where she would prefer that I sit since the seating had been messed up due to the shifting of passengers.

    This particular Airborne Waitress was something on the order of 137 years old, and had a permanent scowl stapled to her face. Seriously. She already had 10 years in on the job when the Flight Attendant in the picture on the right was hired.

    At any rate, she immediately yelled, “What?”

    Yes, you read that correctly. Yelled. Not said, asked, uttered, muttered, or otherwise spoke. She yelled.

    I answered, “31D.”

    “What’s your seat number?” she yelled again.

    “31D,” I said, again, slightly louder.

    “31E?” she bellowed.

    “No ma’am, 31D.”

    “D? D as in dog? 31D?” she yelled.

    “Yes ma’am,” I replied, notching my volume up a bit more, although nowhere near yelling as she was. “That’s what I said. 31D.”

    Instantly she pulled off her face, and let me tell you the flaming death’s head was no prettier than the scowling prune. Suddenly she yelled even louder, “Don’t you take that attitude with me!”

    I was taken aback. I’ve logged so many miles in the air that my flying odometer has rolled over more times than I can count, and never have I dealt with such a thing. I’ve had flight attendants flirt with me – one of whom was even dead set on having my company for the evening when we landed (she didn’t get her wish, much to her disappointment. Good thing too, as E K would have killed her, then tortured me for several weeks until I expired.) I’ve had them ask me to help during a period of heavy turbulence when passengers in my row were wigging out. I’ve even sat and traded recipes with them.

    But, never had I been attacked by one.

    Until now.

    I looked at her and said, “Ma’am, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to give you any attitude. I just want to know where you want me to sit.”

    She glared at me, then rolled her eyes and muttered something unintelligible, then proceeded to yank some poor woman’s ticket out of her hand.  A moment later she started screaming at her instead of me. The next thing I knew she was demanding that the woman move across the aisle and let me sit where she was sitting. I looked at the woman and said, why don’t you just stay where you are and I’ll sit over here. I immediately plopped into the seat and buckled up. Psycho Stewardess glared at me, but left it at that.

    For the moment.

    By “for the moment”, I mean a few minutes later she repeated the incident in extreme detail for some other passengers who were put back on after having been bumped. Up to and including a stern lecture about how all because of them the flight was going to arrive at DFW later than scheduled.

    When she went forward, we all looked at one another, and chatted quietly, using various four letter words to describe the insane wingnut in a uniform. The general consensus was that she needed a Valium, or  more preferably cyanide. My point being, this wasn’t just me – all of us in the back of the airplane thought the woman had lost her mind and was undoubtedly the rudest flight attendant on record.

    And, just to prove us correct she had to get in one last psycho moment, by screaming at a teenager to lift his tray table when we were on approach to DFW. Unfortunately, she picked the wrong kid to jump on. Seems he was a special needs individual and couldn’t really comprehend what it was that she was yelling at him about… And he was sitting in the window seat. Momma was in the aisle seat between them and she instantly intervened.

    Of course, the flying bitch still had to have the last word. She yelled at the momma that she, “should have told her at the outset that he was special needs.”

    For the record, instead of being late we landed 30 minutes early and had to wait on the tarmac for 15 minutes for a gate to be free.

    I actually have a theory about that. I suspect the Captain pushed that airplane as hard as it would go because the rest of the crew probably called him up and said that if we didn’t get there soon they were going to chuck the Misanthropic Airborne Waitress out the hatch at 34 thousand feet.

    You know what? They would have had plenty of help.

    More to come…

    Murv

  • I Would Fly 1000 Miles…

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    …just to be the man who ate a cheese-burr-gerrrrrrr.

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    Okay… I know, I know… Enough with massacring the Proclaimer’s tune… They sing it way better than I do anyway.

    So, I ran my mouth about my recent travel experience to and from Ohio, nothing new about that. I run my mouth all the time. But, there are a couple of other things I also did this go around.

    The first is, I filled out the online questionnaire the airline kept harping about. Usually I don’t do that sort of stuff because I simply don’t have the time, but I figured what the hell.

    Now here’s the thing. I did NOT piss and moan. Well, not much… After all, I had already written the 4 part blog about the trip and put the posts into the queue for deployment, so all of my pissing and moaning was pretty much finished. Anywho, to be honest I actually gave them a pretty good review. I even lauded praise upon a gate agent at Chicago O’Hare for her professional handling of a sticky situation with a young pilot who in my opinion was in need of an anger management class. I mean, adults generally don’t throw screaming fit temper tantrums when they don’t get their way – especially in front a terminal full of people… But then, maybe that’s just the way I see things, and we all know I see things differently than most…

    But back to that online thing… When the questions got around to asking if I was delayed for more than 15 minutes on any particular flight/connection, I told the truth and said yes.

    I honestly don’t know if it was my answers on the questionnaire, or something that the airline took it upon themselves to do simply because they are wonderful people. I’m inclined to believe it is option #1, but at any rate, I received the following in the mail:


    Since Ms. Elizabeth Reed, General Manager of Customer Care for NWA was so kind as to send this, I figured that since I had pretty much blasted them – in my own tongue in cheek fashion, of course – via Brainpan Leakage, I should be fair about things and point out that they did in fact apologize, and even gave me an extra 1000 miles on my frequent flyer account.

    That’s actually more than I can say for some of the other airlines I have flown.

    Now I just need someplace to go. I wonder how far 1000 frequent flyer miles will get me? Of course, if I redeem them and the airplane has an auxiliary power unit malfunctioning, no air conditioning, and instead of sending someone to Sears for a DieHard battery the pilot bribes some guys in yellow vests and earmuffs to give us a jump, just as soon as they can find where they stashed the cables, I think I might have to scream.

    But, not in front of a terminal full of people.

    The second thing I did involved a hamburger… Well, a cheeseburger to be precise. As you well know, in the installment titled You Want Blonde Or Brunette On That, I took some more of my tongue in cheek pot shots – or in this case slapshots –  at the restaurant chain, Fuddruckers. I won’t go into euphemistic details about my experience there, after all I did just that in the aforementioned post.

    The thing that triggered me doing the thing, so to speak – (hey, fancy word usage… that’s why I get paid the big bucks) – was the fact that so many of you took me to task… Well, actually only one of you took me to task (yes, you George) Still, a huge number of you either commented here, on Facebook, or even sent me a direct email to tell me how absolutely wonderful Fuddruckers truly is, and that my experience must have been an isolated incident. Y’all also went on to tell me that I should file a complaint with the corporate office.

    Well, I ruminated on that a bit, and while it’s something I don’t normally do, I surfed on by Fuddruckers.com and found their feedback form. I sent them a comment letting them know about my experience, and that I was only doing such because several of my readers had urged me to do so.

    Now they are mad at all of you…

    Just kidding. Kinda.

    But, seriously, within something around 36 hours I received an email from the corporate office, thanking me for the feedback and letting me know it had been forwarded on to the appropriate store. Less than 8 hours after that I received a very nice apology email from the manager of the store in question, and she is sending me a gift card.

    I have to say that kind of integrity out of a company is pretty damned impressive. At least, to me it is, because that hasn’t always been my experience with some other chains. If you don’t know which one I’m talking about search my blog for “square hamburgers are evil” and see what you find.

    So anyway, next time I’m on the road and have a layover while making a connection – I mean, you simply cannot fly anywhere these days without making a connection in some faraway place, we’ve already established that – I’ll be keeping my eye out for a Fuddruckers. I’m really looking forward to finally having that truly stellar hunk-o-seared-moo-cow on a bun that E K waxed droolific about so many years ago.

    And yes, you too, George… 😉

    More to come…

    Murv