I am currently padding around my well appointed Union Square
hotel room in San Francisco in my underwear. Having purchased a large bottle of Mike Hess Brewing India
Pale Ale Grapefruit Solis at a corner store was a good idea. Discovering I didn’t have a bottle
opener in the room and using the handle of the dresser proved to be a
bad idea as the bottle exploded over my pant legs, hence my now more relaxed
attire. I considered donning the
complimentary hotel fluffy bathrobe, but I thought it a bit much. I am quite hungry and wouldn’t mind
filling out a loan application to see if I could buy some room service. A club sandwich at this hotel costs as
much as a late model domestic used car.
However, I don’t want some kind of weird scene when the overworked
Mexican busboy delivers the food and I am the creep in a robe that answers the
door. Best just to leave the whole situation alone.
I am on a real sleepless jag. I might have a physical collapse. I arrived last night at 1:38 am, or 4:38 am my body clock
time. Our good friends at United
Airlines once again dashed my hopes and dreams at O’Hare Airport stranding me
there on a 4.5 hour delay Friday night.
My absolute favorite part of United Airlines “customer service” is now
they have stopped with even the pretense of giving one single fuck. Without a real explanation they delayed
the flight numerous times until announcing everyone would have to line up to be
re-seated. The rationale was never
explained. Thus an entire plane
full of Boeing 777 passengers had to line up single file and go one by one to
A) complain about the delay B) complain about their new seat location C) and
make idle threats.
The official reason for the delay was “air traffic control”,
which I think is an airport version of “because we said so”. It was never made clear. When they announced a delay for the
sixth time, United brought out the big guns. An elderly Asian man rolled out a small metal cart. Without any fanfare or announcement he
opened up two drawers and opened a box with Cheez-Its and one box with Nutrigrain
bars. Then he silently walked away
from the cart much as you would if feeding hyenas at the zoo. On the side of the cart was a United
logo with the phrase “Enjoy a snack”.
Most people had given up all self respect by this point and descended on
the food like jackals. There were
approximately 20 bags of Cheez-Its for 300 passengers. It was a snack food version of
The Octagon.
Now I’m not saying I don’t appreciate this small
gesture. However, I am thinking
that maybe 4.5 hours of my time might be worth more than the opportunity of
fighting off a woman in yoga pants for a .78 cent bag of crackers. How about some frequent flier miles or
maybe a comp upgrade in my future?
That’s not United’s game though.
Their move is to give you the absolute bare minimum for failure to
provide service and hope you don’t bitch.
If you do, they will offer another small premium. This will continue as they ratchet up
the line of defense at each level until people tire of the struggle. After last week’s episode with that old
man getting his ass kicked, I would think twice about complaining about not
getting any Cheez-Its.
My 6:58p departure left at about 11:15p. My plan was to arrive here in San Francisco at my little
wine class crisp and refreshed on Saturday morning so I could enhance
my admittedly slim chance of passing the Impossible Wine Test this June. Instead I went to sleep around 230a to
get up at 7a so I could walk into a windowless conference room to blind taste 6
wines and provide in depth tasting notes.
I would describe my condition as “tired as fuck”. I knew I was doing poorly when the best
I could figure out on the first three wines was they tasted like “red
wines”. I will also tell you that
if you haven’t slept, a lecture on soil compositions in Sonoma County is not
what you are looking for to rivet your attention. As I am picking up the expense of the flight and hotel just
so I can try to soak in this information, I feel a bit “disappointed” in United
Airlines for failing to live up to their end of the bargain in getting me here
at a reasonable time. I thought
about showing up at the airport for my sure-to-be-delayed return flight in
yellow shooting sunglasses and a tire iron smashing up their Customer Service
area while screaming “See what you get United? You see what you get for fucking a stranger in the ass? This is what you get! This is what you get for fucking a
stranger in the ass!”. However
after seeing the video of the goons they have employed deep in the bowels of
the airport, I thought again.
I’d better just shut up and wait for my Cheez-Its.
Could've been worse. Could've been Lorna Doones.
ReplyDeleteI actually mentioned that fact to a bystander that became increasingly alarmed as I continued with the story. Impending death is usually a bad topic waiting for a delayed flight.
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