in flight fuckery

Written in collaboration with Mayor of Smashville Emeritus, KOK. Editor’s note: the Nashville Predators were undefeated during the Karesh administration.

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What a (horror) storybook way to complete an amazing first-time visit to Portugal. I say “first-time” because I’d love to return and see more of Portugal someday. I will not, however, park my ass on a United Airlines flight again if I can help it. Not to Portugal. Not to anywhere.

This episode of the United Airlines shit show (considering the all-star level ineptness we experienced, I can’t imagine they haven’t had lots of practice at this) featured starring roles from several well-intended employees, an unlikely hero, and a cameo from the good people at TSA in Newark. 

We kicked off our morning with a normal-if-not-expected flight delay out of Lisbon. No worries, we thought since we had plenty of time to make our connection. UA thought differently and decided to be proactive. They bumped us off our connecting flight and re-booked us for a flight the next afternoon, without our consent or any consideration that we might still make the connection in Newark. We had plenty of company. The pilot made up some time in flight and... big surprise... we had time to make our original connection. When we landed, the plane was buzzing with people trying to get their original plans reinstated. And that’s where the real fun began.

This next sequence of events happened in parallel, but I think it’s more fun to alternate sentences so you can feel what was going on. I’d say, “rapid fire,” but some of this happened with the speed of an iceberg.

Before we even got off the plane, I got on the UA app and started a chat with customer support.

Kim called the UA customer service number.

The chat bot couldn’t help or understand me, so I requested a real agent.

Kim got through to a person, who said since the flight was international, she needed to speak with a different customer service department.

The UA app crapped out on me.

Kim was transferred to the international booking service number and began listening to soothing hold music.

I restarted the UA app. It considering connecting for a few seconds and then crapped out on me again.

Kim kept listening to hold music.

The UA app restarted and crapped out on me again.

Kim began dancing in place to the hold music.

I connected with a human agent who told me that since we booked with Expedia, I needed to call them.

We deplaned and started walking toward customs, still on our respective holds.

Kim had to stop for a potty break…while she kept listening to hold music.

I called Expedia and, surprisingly, got a real person on the phone. There were still seats available on our flight! Of course, there were. They were our seats. 

At this point in the story, things took a turn for the positive. It was a small turn. In fact, it would have barely registered as a slight curve if this kind of thing had a tracking app. But we were on Team Optimism now, so we took it as a good sign that the customs line was moving quickly. The only incident? Our Expedia agent told me any changes had to be made by United. That’s right... United directed me to Expedia only to have Expedia boomerang me right back to United—preserving my already low expectations of Expedia’s customer service team. But at least they answered. And Expedia is a whole different level of fuckery.

Meanwhile, Kim was still rocking out to UA’s hold music. 

Of course, it’s illegal to be on the phone in a customs line, so Kim shouldered a shaming look from an officer. She handed off the phone like a relay baton to our traveling companion, Audra, who had just cleared the line. “Important phone call?” he asked with his eyes as much as his tone. Yes. Yes, it was. 

We got through customs, picked up our luggage, and got it re-checked to Nashville without issues. That, my friends, is what we call positive momentum. But our adversaries at United had a few more surprises for us, beginning with their allies at TSA. 

The clock was ticking, and the security line was longer than we hoped. UA’s international hold music still pasted to her ear, Kim sprinted back to the front desk to see if they could help. They said we’d have to be helped at the gate, so she asked them to call gate C130 to hold the plane. They were picking up the phone while she started to run.

What she didn’t know at the time was that our flight had moved to C132, but none of that mattered at this point. She handed me her carry-ons and used her ample powers of persuasion to jump to the front of the line. As a former cross-country champion, she was our best choice to get to our gate and convince them to hold the flight for us. 

Not wanting to be left out, Newark’s crack TSA team decided today would be the perfect day to be extra vigilant at the security checkpoint. To be clear, I am 100% on board with the concept of airport security and maximizing passenger safety, but I do question their efficacy given the items that make their way through security without even a sideways glance. And I sure wonder what was so menacing about Audra’s plain black flip flops that required a second pass through the x-ray machine. While I’ve never heard of a plane being overtaken by a flip-flop-wielding terrorist, I can’t say for certain it couldn’t happen. But that would certainly have to be a highly skilled terrorist, right? I mean, couldn’t someone at least slow them down by stomping on their exposed toes? Maybe spill hot coffee on them and give them a nasty burn? Distract them with an ad for smart, sensible travel shoes?

Having eventually concluded that Audra’s flip flop was, indeed, a flip flop, TSA released us to the gate. We crossed paths with Kim, who was dripping with sweat and directives on who should go where. She had already reached the gate and been sent to a different UA agent at gate C91 – seemingly half a mile away – for further assistance. 

Somewhere in here, Kim lost connection with the hold music she’d been listening to for a full hour. There would be no more dancing... no more soundtrack for our adventure. 

Audra joined Kim to go plead our case while I took the bags and began sprinting through the terminal toward the gate, presumably to lay on the tarmac and keep the plane from leaving before they returned. 

I got to the gate to learn United had boarded and then emptied the plane because in another stunning example of airline management efficiency, they hadn’t assigned a pilot to the flight. Their blunder gave us the advantage of a little more time. Time I chose to use by confirming our arrival with the gate agent, a surly person who was evidently having a rough day. But I suspect all her days seemed rough. The exchange went something like this:

Me: Hi there. I have a boarding pass for this flight. You bumped us because you thought we wouldn’t make our connection. But here we are, and since this plane hasn’t left yet, we’d like to be on it so we can go home.

Surly agent: I didn’t bump anyone, sir.

Me: Yes, thank you. I understand you personally didn’t bump us, but you do work for United Airlines, right?

Surly agent: There’s no need to get an attitude with me, sir.

Me: Of course. No attitude here. I just need you to confirm we are back on this flight, since we never asked, nor did we consent to being rebooked. This is our original flight and we’re here and ready to board when the plane is ready.

Surly agent: The flight is full, sir. I don’t have seats to give you.

Me: We already have seats. Would you like to see my boarding pass again? See, it has a seat number on it.

Surly agent: That doesn’t matter because your flight was changed.

Me: I’m aware of that, but I didn’t change it.

Surly agent: Sir, I can’t take seats from someone else and give them to you.

Me: I’m sorry, what? That’s exactly what you... I mean your airline, did to us. You took our seats and gave them to other people. We should have never been moved in the first place. We just want the seats we paid for back.

Surly agent: (Sighs). Let me see your boarding pass again... you are traveling with Miss Kim?

Me: Yes. That’s right. She’s lovely, isn’t she?

Surly agent: Well as I told her, the best I can do is put you on this list (there was no actual list—just a scrap of paper). There are people ahead of you.

Meanwhile, Kim was working her way toward a starring role on the evening news. Knowing she had only minutes to spare, she went straight to the front of the line at C91 and begged. A friendly couple on their way to Geneva took mercy – Geneva is all about peace, after all. Again, Kim absorbed judging glares from the rest of the line who hadn’t heard the details of her urgent needs. No eye contact. This was her strategy. 

Audra flipped in on her flops, breathless. She’d had a long, hard day. Her son had been in a car accident that morning. He was okay, but hurting, and it shook her up. She needed to get home. She made it to the line just in time to field the callout from an impatient passenger, self-declared Line Monitor, who thought no one’s day could be worse than hers. 

Line Monitor: Excuse me! There’s a line here. 

Kim: I know, I know. You’re right. We have a bit of an urgent situation. 

Line Monitor: We all do. 

Audra: OH, YEAH?! Was your son in an accident this morning?!? (Takes two steps forward just to prove she’s from Texas.)

Kim to herself: Wow. That Yoga retreat in Portugal wore off fast.

Kim out loud, pulling Audra back: It’s been a hard day. We need some grace today. Please understand. 

Line Monitor: Everyone has had a hard day. 

Kim goes back to avoiding eye contact. Doesn’t move to the back of the line. This woman is made of steel. 

LM heckles a bit more. Audra bites her tongue. Kim pulls out her phone to start recording LM, just in case it escalates. LM pulls out her phone in retaliation. 

Line Monitor: What are you, like, four? That works both ways, honey. 

Kim’s strategy worked, though. LM simmered down. They got to an agent. 

Back at the gate, my exchange with the surly agent continued in a similar fashion until I let her put our names on her makeshift waiting list and then reconnected with Kim. 

“Hey, it’s me,” I said. “I struck out in a big way with the gate agent. We’re on the stand-by list.” If I had a tail, it would have been firmly planted between my legs.

“That’s okay, I think I got it done,” she replied. “Have her check her system again. We should be all set. We’re on our way.”

Kim had just one more task to complete. She turned to LM. “Thank you. You really helped us out today. I sincerely want to say, I hope no one in your family gets hurt, so you don’t have to go through what we just did.” Kim really meant it. She said it from her heart.

“Have a looooooooovely day,” said the Line Monitor, with an audible roll of her eyes.

“What a Grade A bitch,” thought Kim, her moment of compassion having passed. Even if she’d said it out loud, the woman wouldn’t have heard. Kim was running again and was far away before the thought was complete. Kindness is sometimes the best revenge. 

I gleefully—about as gleefully as I could muster after the events leading up to this (oh, and did I mention I have COVID again?)—walked back for another masked-chat with the surly agent. She reluctantly interrupted her critical task of standing there doing nothing to check her system again, and then—almost happily—told me we still didn’t have assigned seats. Is it wrong that part of me wanted to sneeze on her right then?

The pilot arrived a moment later, and surly agent turned her attention to getting people on board. Everyone except us. 

When Kim and Audra arrived, I broke the news, and we made our way to surly agent to plead our case one last time. Surly agent gave us the Heisman until everyone in the gate area had boarded, and then the bell sounded for the final round. She and Kim met in the center of the ring and exchanged metaphorical body blows. Surly agent told Kim to listen to her and showed her the system. Kim clarified that wasn’t a UA employee and wasn’t required to learn their system. She was the customer, and it was her turn to talk. 

When surly agent realized Kim is much wirier than I am, she called in for reinforcements and the unlikely hero of our story—Cesar, a supervisor, who had been sitting nearby, presumably supervising the newspaper he was reading—arrived on the scene. 

Clearly, it was Cesar’s first day at United Airlines, or he simply hadn’t yet completed UA’s mandatory do-as-little-as-possible-and-under-no-circumstances-help-the-customer training because he talked briefly to surly agent and then listened calmly to our story. He argued for a minute that we hadn’t checked in, but we all had printed boarding passes with seat assignments. How, exactly, did we get those without checking in? Uh oh. Rock—Cesar—hard place.

Surly agent said there were two seats left. In the blink of an eye, Cesar knew she was wrong. He told her to check again. Voila. There were three. He turned to the two people who were “here before us” and asked for their compassion for Audra and her son. They agreed. (I hope they got vouchers and free drinks.) He had surly agent punch a few keys in her magic machine that “she couldn’t possibly change,” and presto... we had seats on the flight. Makeshift standby notes scrawled on a scrap sheet of paper be damned. 

I’ll bet you’re expecting to see something like, “Hail Cesar!” now, aren’t you? Not gonna happen. We appreciate Cesar’s work here, but that’s far too on the nose. Plus, the story isn’t over quite yet. 

Oh, we got on the plane and made it to Nashville. Our bags, however, did not make it to the flight, despite it getting off the ground nearly an hour late. Apparently, our bags didn’t state their case (pun intended) as eloquently as Kim did. Or maybe they didn’t run fast enough.

In our final (and perhaps only) mistake, we agreed to let United deliver our bags to us when they arrived. We waited, but there were no bags. On Sunday, UA’s baggage tracking app said they were in town and would be delivered by 9.30pm. That time came and went. Monday morning, I spoke with UA and the courier, only to learn United have handed off two bags for delivery... neither of which were ours. Now it’s time to give United some grace. I mean, it’s not like they had descriptions of each bag, included labels with our names on them, and baggage claim numbers to match up. Oh wait... they had all those things and still managed to give Charlie—the courier—the wrong ones. To steal from my dear friend Faye, “Bless...”

Let me just say Charlie is the man. He refused to be derailed! He staged a one-person sit-in at United baggage claim area until they produced our bags, and they arrived Monday afternoon. Thank you, Charlie. I owe you a beer.

We got home almost on time, so I guess this saga ended well. But to be sure, all is not well.