Why Southwest can bite me

Sometimes I think I'm a funny person. Sometimes people even tell me I'm funny, which is a lot better than when they tell me I'm already showing or that I'm a lazy turd. But after our recent holiday, I'm starting to think that I'm not actually funny; it's just that life is playing a big practical joke on me. So I'm only funny by default.

Case in point: Traveling to Utah for Christmas. One would think we'd decided to rent some hand carts for our journey considering all the delays and issues we suffered. Frankly, an ox in the mire sounds better than some of the junk we had to endure. I could tell you a really, really long tale of our travel woes, but instead I will summarize the worst parts, which most of you have already heard me whine about:

* Flight gets canceled due to weather
* Flight gets rescheduled for the next day- we arrive two hours early only to wait in line for 1 hour and 45 minutes to check our baggage.
* Waiting in line involves standing in an outdoor parking garage, where the temperature is about 15 degrees.
* Waiting in line involves lugging our five bags and car seat for 1 hour and 45 minutes when I am technically on bed rest.
* We run to the gate and manage to make our flight but only one of our bags makes it with us.
* We get our luggage two days later at 2 a.m.
* I spend New Year's Eve in the ER - no biggie, but I have to reschedule our return flight so I can rest for a few days.
* Flight gets rescheduled for Friday - we arrive two hours early only to wait in line for 15 minutes.
* Flight is delayed for two hours, leaving us with four hours to kill in the SLC airport.
* We arrive in Chicago at 10:30 p.m.
* Our flight's luggage doesn't make it to a baggage carousel until 11:10 p.m.
* At 11:45, half of our flight is still waiting for the rest of their luggage.
* Southwest tells us they forgot to finish unloading the luggage - shortly thereafter, three more bags show up.
* I stand in a line until 12:30 a.m. to make a claim for the four bags of luggage that never arrive.
* We arrive home at 2 a.m.
* Our luggage comes at 7 p.m. the next day.

So there you have it - why my life is funnier than yours, and why I'm consequently funnier than you are. Actually, most of you are still funnier than me, and from what I can tell your luggage actually arrives with you. So maybe cursed is a better word.

Anyway, since I'm feeling lighthearted I decided to write Southwest a short letter, rather than go on and on with my sad tale. After all, that's what blogs are for, right?



Dear Southwest,

I hate you.

Love, Mrs. Dub

p.s. I don't like your stupid flight attendant songs either, and they definitely don't make me feel better when I have to wear the same underwear two days in a row.
p.p.s. Your napkins feel like sandpaper.

HTT - In-flight edition

Welcome back, me!

Why thank you, me!

And while I would love to engage you all in a rousing travelogue of my adventures of traveling with child, I must note that my calendar says it’s Tuesday. And we all know what that means …

But in honor of my recent travels, I thought I would make today’s Hot Topic about airlines.

Flying is amazing. Sometimes when I’m in flight, I stop to realize that I’m hurling through the clouds to my destination in a fraction of the time it would take to drive the same distance. At first this thought makes me marvel at the miracle of flight, its unbelievable convenience and sheer beauty. Shortly followed by the thought that flying is about the stupidest idea ever. I mean, does hurling through the clouds sound safe? (I know, I know, more people die in car accidents than plane crashes, but at least I’m driving the car and in control.)

But unfortunately flying happens in airplanes, which come from airports, which are run by airlines, which are the most inefficient companies on this planet and possibly the entire solar system.

Yesterday, for example, our flight was scheduled to leave at 8.53 a.m. At 8:50, we still hadn’t boarded, though there was no announcement or indication of any delay. When we finally did board, no apologies were made or additional explanation, until the pilot announced as we fastened our seat belts that we would be sitting on the tarmac for at least an hour waiting for weather-related clearance in Chicago. Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait the entire hour and Miss Dub slept through most of the delay. Then, we were air bound for a 3 hour and 2 minute flight, or so the steward happily announced.

But nearly 20 minutes after hearing we were making our “final descent” we were still above the clouds. And airplanes were breaking through behind us, giving me the sense we were overshooting the airport. When I saw Lake Michigan peeking through the clouds, I knew that we were circling the airport. Of course, there was no announcement or explanation. I mean, what right would I, a passenger, have to know why my flight was being continually extended?

Finally, we landed. But our adventure had just begun. We had to get our baggage, which was delivered to the sole baggage carousel for all of U.S. Airways’ flights (at O’Hare, the nation’s busiest airport). It took over an hour to get every item of luggage and another half hour to find a way to an elevator, shuttle and out of the economy parking lot. (All which lacked signs to help navigate them.)

An empty tank of gas, rush-hour traffic and rain make our story even more sad and soggy.

But the real issue is: Why is it so hard to fly?

I understand weather. I’m all for fixing any mechanical problems. I even somewhat encourage additional screening to prevent terrorism, though we all know I prefer civil liberties to a slight increase in safety.

But what about customer service?

What about being on time?

What about telling your passengers what the heck is going on?

My favorite airline is Southwest. Cry if you want to about having to choose your seat (and the losers who insist on standing in the A line an hour before boarding), but they are fast, efficient and friendly. Plus, they dress in costumes on Halloween and have playful cockpit banter.

But the rest just make me want to gouge myself with bobby pins. Seriously, I just did. (Seriously, I didn’t.)

Granted, our bumbling flight was still faster than driving from Phoenix to Chicago. (26 hours per Google.) But our three-hour tour took us seven hours from check-in to drive out.

What about you?

Do you looove to fly, or do you loathe it?

What’s the best airline?

And what’s the worst?

Best airport?

Worst?

Oh, and horror stories are a must.

Like, now.