An Inauspicious Start

I’ve travelled a lot in my life and had some interesting experiences along the way. In a half million miles of flying, however, August 20th is a day that will stand out, and not in a good light.

It all started out with a 3:30AM wake up alarm and dash to the airport to make my first flight to Chicago. When I arrived at the airport, I looked at the line inside at the United counter to check my bags and immediately pulled a u-turn and went to the curbside checkin line. Even though it was shorter since you have to pay to use it, it still took over 30 minutes to wait out the line. And I had neglected to notice one critical line of small print on an out of the way sign. Curbside checkin was for domestic flights only and since my final destination was in Europe, I wasn't eligible to use it.

Okay. My mistake. But the 30 minutes of delay meant that I was within the 45 minute cut off period for checking baggage. I zipped inside to find the United attendant that controls the lines and explained the situation. I got a very cold, “too bad, the line is there [with hundreds of people] and you'll just have to standby for the next flight.” She had definitely dealt with way too many assholes and wasn't interested in dealing with another.

I used to maintain status with United to avoid just this kind of stuff. Playing the status game blows, but at least it results in a slightly gentler experience. Unfortunately, I didn't fly with United last year and had fallen off the bandwagon. Sensing that the situation was going to be bad otherwise, I conveniently forgot that I didn't have status, composed myself, and walked up to the Premier/First Class check in counter and explained my situation, complete with a full mea culpa for missing the signage.

After taking a quick look at my reservation, the agent told me that I was indeed bumped from my flight. The good news was that there were two more flights to Chicago that would arrive in time to make my connection. The bad news was that both were oversold. The standby game might work, but might not. I wasn't in the mood to play, however. I had plans and didn't want to mess them up. So I asked the magic question, “Is there anything else we can do?”

”Well,” she replied with a lot more enthusiasm than I could expect at 5:20 in the morning. “Let’s see. [tap tap tap� pause� tap tap tap] Hrm. I can put you into your final destination by flying you through Dulles and get you confirmed seats all the way. The flight departs here in an hour and a half, but you'll get into your final destination two and a half hours earlier than you would by going through Chicago. Is that OK?”

I was stunned. Of course it was OK. Better than that, it was perfect. I had run into that very rare airline employee that cared enough to make things work out. Much happiness ensued. I think I thanked her twice or three times.

Even better, as I walked away from the counter to grab a Jamba Juice before going to the gate, I looked at my boarding passes and saw the ever so welcome four letters next to my seat assignment: EXIT. Oh yah baby. I finished up my smoothie, went through security, boarded my flight, and settled into my seat ready to crash out and snooze to Dulles.

Less than an hour into the flight, however, things went truly pear shaped. Something about that Jamba Juice didn't agree with me. Well, that's truly too polite. Suffice it to say that something in the smoothie decided to destroy my day. With a vengeance. I spent the rest of that first flight, and quite a bit of the second flight wearing a groove into the aisle between my seat and the lavatory. I'll spare the gory details. Let’s just say that if being digestively challenged on terra firma sucks, 37,000' while on board a full plane it is way beyond any reasonable category of suckage. Anything short of an unanticipated departure of normal flight would have been better. I wanted to curl up in a ball and die.

Luckily, the “Oh God, I’m dying” phase let go soon enough, but the after effects kept on giving joy for a while. It wasn't until I was well over the Atlantic Ocean that the beast was fully done with me. Finally, about the time the plane was over Scotland, I was able to hold down a bit of liquid. By the time the plane touched down at Schiphol, life was starting to look up again. Most of all, I was so happy about having those exit row seats.

Hopefully, tomorrow this will all be past and forgotten I’ll be ready to enjoy my time here at my destination: Amsterdam. It can only get better from here.