Travel and interwebs. Haven for jerks.

Two quick things. First, there’s a recipe for trampling that begins like this: “Passengers needing extra time to board or travelling with small children, and all First Class paggengers are welcome to board at this time.”

This translates into a bunch of jerks cutting off a woman with a stroller, in some cases looking at her trying to get into “line” (a term I put in quotes as it is so much more akin to a seething blob of huma-cattle) only long enough to make sure their briefcase and wheelie bags don’t hit her. Or maybe they thought she was horning in on their stuff. Not sure. Don’t care. Point is, they didn’t have the decency to let her go first with her kid. It’s kind of like the sign in the T that urges passengers to let pregnant women sit first. Sheesh!

Second, people online are jerks. They post nasty comments* and troll forums. Get a blog and rant in it, like this. Kick puppies on your own time. *grump*

*So far comments here have been pretty nice, and I appreciate that.  I’m actually talking about comments on other blogs that are legitimate and add value to the world’s knowledge.  But if you need to blow off steam, this is the place.

As if flying with crying babies wasn’t bad enough…

… repeat after me people: the back of the airplane seat in front of me does not belong to me. I will not use it to assist me in leaving my seat. I will not slam my tray table into it. There is a cranky person trying to sleep in that seat. That cranky person has been listening to a colicky baby and failing to sleep for the last 500 miles. I will not disturb cranky. Cranky will hurt me.

Thank you.

Self-fulfilling prophecy, or just normal travel these days?

I called it on Friday. And sure enough, Saturday came in a wave of bad travel. Three flights, two prop planes and a regional jet. Total time for travel, six hours. Total layover time between each flight, half an hour. Actual time for travel, thirteen hours. Actual layover time between flights (total) seven hours.

Here’s the breakdown: my first flight was delayed, and although I asked about my half-hour connection, they assured me they had already looked into it and I was going to make it. Ok. Sure enough, in flight they realized I wasn’t going to make it an re-routed me for my next flight. But lo! I’m the airport-sprinter you see dashing by you, determined to make my flight, destined to wait no longer than required. I made that connecting flight with minutes to spare, even if they had been on time. So there I was, boarding my scheduled second flight, which turned out to be an hour late itself, although most of that was spent under the de-icer. Ok. Still no problem.

I get to my secondary destination, Memphis, and go to the appointed “I missed my flight” station. They had our new tickets ready and were, I must say, completely on the ball. Except I wasn’t on their list and there was no ticket for me. Turns out I was supposed to be in Houston, per my first-flight re-route. Except…. no one told me this. I am guessing that the way it works is if you make your first flight, fine, but if not they’ve got you covered on a second flight. I surprised them by making the first flight, but, … wouldn’t they know to expect me in Memphis?

Well anyway. The short of it is the next flight to my destination was in five hours, and any connecting flights would only get me there later. Normally I’m fine with such snafus, but I had someone else picking me up at the airport, someone who can’t drive well at night. Grr!

What scares me is the idea that either I got onto a flight that I wasn’t ticketed for after all (I’d printed my boarding pass the day before) or that the computers didn’t realize I had actually boarded (judging by the snafu in Memphis). Either way, I’m concerned! Shouldn’t they be keeping up with passenger manifests? I mean.. what about no-fly lists? What about accidents? If that plane had crashed, would anyone have notified my family, or would I be the unidentified victim?

One big laugh out of this was “Mr. Karma” who was dropping F-bombs the whole time. Oh, did I mention our flight out of Memphis was delayed because the crew’s flight arriving to Memphis was late? Anyway, Mr. Karma couldn’t stand the idea of waiting an hour more than the five he’d already waited, and so left. No sooner had he left than our crew arrived and we boarded the plane. I was hoping Mr. Karma would be left behind, but no.

I did get a first-class seat out of the deal at least.

Pre-travel ramp-up rant

I’m just prepping myself in case of travel woes.  Oh, they’ll be there, all right.  I have three flights (!!) for my stupid little boy-wasn’t-this-cheap airfare.  Well, I’m sure I’ll get what I pay for.  As a preview, each flight has a layover of only 30 minutes.  That’s actually my longest layover.  Here’s to hoping the airports I’m hopping into are tiny (all the flights are regional jets, a tiny folding-step above puddle-jumpers) so I can make the transfer.

I ranted about not checking bags, and I still stand by my carry-on bag being right-sized for carrying-on.  But at the same time I get a little thrill thinking of how the defeat of waiting in vain at the luggage spitter and then the horror of waiting in line in the baggage claim office will be offset by the joy of not having a bag to lug around in the airports during my transfers AND the rapture of making airport personnel find my house in the boonies to deliver my bags.  And let’s not forget how much I delight in describing directions based on how many gates you pass and which dirt roads to turn on.  I truly love the befuddlement on the faces when I describe such a journey.

Simple joys.  We’ll see.

American materialism cum carry-on bags

I recently read and responded to a very harmless blog entry about airline bag fees. Evidently European Ryanair is going to charge for bags that are checked. I commented that in America, it would simply result in people carrying on even more crap than they already do. Well, comments continued and basically we came to America = materialistic society.

So. Here’s my double-pointed beef. One, I can’t stand how long it takes to load a plane these days. I mean, first of all everyone jumps up at the first announcement, like oh yeah, they all have small children, wheelchairs, and first-class tickets. Because of the mad rush to board the plane en masse, there is without fail the one person in the front or middle of the plane who struggles to fit their wheelie bag into the bins. *shudder* Look, for one thing most planes, although admittedly not all, are designed for those wheelies to go wheels-out. Try it. Just see if the door will close over it. No really. I’ll be HAPPY to wait the 5 seconds for you to try that rather than for you to thoughtlessly sling your crap in sideways, taking up two-thirds of the compartment for your bag that you should have just checked anyway.

Ok, now we who were so eager to get up and board the plane are all waiting for you, and yes, you should have waiting for your rows to be called, or they shouldn’t call rows to board at all. I mean… if no one pays attention to them then why waste time on an already-taxed employee? Screw it, I say. Just let us all on. We do it anyway. You don’t stop us. Why should you? Save yourself some frustration.

Next, why why why why must everyone carry all their crap on board to begin with? Just check the dadgum bags. Are you going somewhere that you can’t wait ten minutes for your bags to come around? Or are you so afraid that you will have to wait for your crap to arrive with you at your destination?

Here’s where the materialism comes in. Do one of two things for me, America: either 1) pack all your crap into a carry-on sized bag. A standard, 15×9x21″ bag. This can, in a pinch, fit under the seat in front of you. No, really. Your crap won’t fit? Yeah it will. I can fit five days’ worth of business-casual into a larger-than-daypack sized backpack. It’s carry-on sized. I can even fit a second pair of shoes in there. And hair machineries. And even my own toothpaste and shampoo and whatever else I feel like I will miss. And.. I have room left over. I even have room in my very small backpack in which I pack my laptop and cords and book and water and all that crap that I really will need when I land.

But if you feel that’s simply not enough room, ok. Then do this: 2) check your big bag. That wheelie is really too large to be considered a carry-on. Really. And the wheels/handle combo add to the weight you’re just lugging around for the fun and satisfaction of having your undies and extra socks at your fingertips at all times. Check the bag and do not fear the loss of your precious clothing. It really will make it to your destination. And if it doesn’t? Great. New clothes that you obviously love so very very much to own and keep with you. Just.. let it go, man.

Sheesh. Whatever you do, just don’t clog up the aisles trying futiley to fit your big-assed bag while the rest of us hope that you and your army of like-minded comrades do not personally cause us to miss our connection at the other end of the flight. Or, God forbid, that you cause us to not be able to find a place for our own small-sized carry-on that we will then (Eeek!) have to check.