Another "Goes Wrong Show"

But not quite as bad as the first one.

I don’t know, folks. I feel the need to swear off traveling for a while. At least air travel. Is it just me, or has service gotten quite horrendous across the board when flying since the asinine Covid rules began? I think the Covid rules were the excuse to offer bad service back when they were in force. People got lazy, and now that the Covid rules are rolled back, they just can’t be bothered to care about their work anymore. That’s what my gut’s telling me, so I’m going with that.

My trip up to MI went quite smoothly, and I had a nice time with family in my old stomping grounds of St. Joseph and surrounding areas. It was the trip back when everything when to hell in a hand basket. So, I believe I’ll just begin there and regale you with my trials and tribulations, as comedies of errors are often quite entertaining. And once that’s all hashed out, I’ll share some photos and memories of the lovely time I had in St. Joseph.

It all began on Wednesday morning. I was tired from late nights and much socializing, and though I’d enjoyed my visit, I was eager to get home and back to my normal routine. I had such optimistic visions of the immediate future, bless my heart, when Jonathon and I got in the car—getting home to my own bed, seeing my doggies again, checking in on my flower garden, my quiet and peaceful house. Jonathon was to drive me to Midway Airport in Chicago, drop me off for the flight home and continue on his way to a big rocket launch event in Wisconsin. He would follow me home in a couple days. (You can’t bring rockets on airplanes, you see.) On the way there, the skies darkened and the rain began. By the time I’d reached the airport, a serious storm system had rolled in.

And yet, when I arrived at my gate, my flight—#2424 Midway to ATL, continuing to GSP—showed no delay. I was relieved because many other flights were now delayed. I innocently supposed my flight was headed towards clearer skies and that was why. In fact, Southwest Airlines had decided to update passengers in a staggered fashion in order to prevent a riot by just letting out all the news at once in the fashion of Oprah Winfrey…"You get a delay, and you get a delay and you get a delay! Ya’ll get a delay!” (This is my theory, anyway.)

Skip forward an hour. The rain was beating against the windows and all flights were thoroughly delayed by two hours, then three, then back to two. It changed by the moment. The concourse was packed with stranded passengers, haggard parents pacing the flours trying to calm wailing babies and exasperated toddlers, and even a yapping Pomeranian who was in danger of being murdered by several irritated souls in the building. I commiserated with a couple of ladies who had been delayed much longer than me. We formed a sort of passengers union with fierce loyalty to one another, and guarded one another’s bags and seats so the others could check flight status, go to the bathroom, stretch aching legs, etc... These seats were first rate, after all—on the floor in front of the moving walkway because there were no others to be had—and we didn’t want to lose our precious spots on the floor. I crocheted and people-watched.

Finally, at nearly 9:00 PM, over three hours after I was supposed to board my flight, we got the blessed news that our collective flights were about to leave. Waited some more. Then my gate changed. All the passengers on my flight gathered belongings and shuffled nine gates down, hope springing fresh in our hearts. While I stood, waiting to board, I looked at the monitor and saw that my flight would land in Atlanta at 12:30 AM. It occurred to me, that I’d better ask what time my flight would then land in Greenville. My sister-in-law, Priscilla, was going to pick me up there, and I needed to get her the updated arrival time. So, I went up to the desk and asked. The first beleaguered Southwest employee tried to look it up and only managed a confused scowl at the computer screen in front of her before a very elderly abuela wandered up with another man who was trying to communicate in Spanish to her.

“I think she’s lost, but I can’t understand her.”

The employee tried to tell her to hang on a minute and they’d get a Spanish-speaking employee to come help her. Not suprisingly, Abuela understood none of this and wandered off again, and my font of information had to run and grab her before she got lost inside of being lost. So, I tried the next Southwest employee over. This lady, looked up my flight and said some unsavory words.

“The continuation to Greenville is canceled,” she said. “But we can get you on a flight tomorrow with a layover in Baltimore and then to Greenville.”

She said this like it was such good news. But, alas, it was not. I did not want to go to Baltimore, first of all. But it was also impossible. I had to be home before the next morning. The friends keeping my dogs were leaving the next day to go visit a very ill relative and needed to drop the dogs off at my house in the morning. I HAD to be there.

This put me in the horrible position of having to ask Priscilla, a working girl who has to get up early in the morning, to drive all the way to Atlanta to pick me up instead of Greenville. Lovely soul that she is, she agreed. I told the lady at the desk that I would keep my flight and just get picked up in Atlanta. She wished me a good trip home and said not one word about my checked bag. This will be important later.

Boarding, taxying and taking off took forever. We didn’t finally leave the airport until well after ten which put my arrival at 1:00 AM or thereabouts. It was an unpleasant flight. The child in back of me kicked my seat at regular intervals (Parents…just don’t let your kids do that. It’s rude.) and the child in front of me whined and screamed for an hour. I dozed off between kicks for a few minutes, but the flight attendant woke me in order to hand me a glass a water to go with my moldy crust of bread. Just kidding about the bread.

Once off the flight, I made quick tracks to the baggage claim. But no bags from flight 2424 were on the carousel. So…I went to the baggage claim office and talked to a most unhelpful man. He lit up when I gave him my baggage claim ticket and looked relieved.

“Your bag’s marked for Greenville, so it won’t be on the carousel.”

“But…continuing to Greenville got canceled,” I said, trying to wrap my exhausted brain around this confusing situation and a little annoyed that he seemed so happy to wash his hands of the situation.

“Yes, but your bag’s marked for Greenville, so it’s going there.”

“How?”

He never did tell me how. Instead, he spilled a lot of company policy speak about how I should have been scheduled on a different flight. When I told him the different flight wouldn’t work for me which is why I got off in Atlanta, he gave me the “that’s not my problem” look. He continued babbling company speak and said that if I had spoken to someone on the ramp off the plane, I could have asked for my bag then. (I do wonder how he thought I should have known this tidbit without ever being told.) He could, as a last resort, request the bag for me but it could take anywhere from one to four hours to arrive at baggage claim. So, I could either wait that long or just go to Greenville in the morning and get it there.

So, there I was. Half dead on my feet, Priscilla waiting for me outside with work waiting for her in the morning, and needing to get home before morning and also realizing that my thyroid medication was in that dratted bag. It was now 2:00 AM. I gave in and left. He threw a half-hearted “sorry” after me, and I went searching for Priscilla. Another important note for later: He did not say during that long-winded company line that if I chose to leave, I would be “voluntarily parting” with my bag.

On the two hour drive home, I called Southwest and spoke to another baggage claim person who told me that the bag was definitely in Atlanta and not going to Greenville.

“Can I have it shipped to me free of charge, since the other guy was wrong?”

“Yes, absolutely. Call the Atlanta office in the morning.”

Okay.

So, I got home around 4:00 and fell into bed. I woke groggily to a pounding at the door around 7:30ish. (I requested my friends to pound on the door loudly because I was afraid if they merely knocked I wouldn’t wake up.) The dogs had arrived. I threw on my bathrobe and tried to be coherent with not much success. Then I called the Atlanta office and explained what happened again and requested that they send my bag to my home.

“No, that’s going to Greenville at 10:00.”

Screaming inwardly.

“Besides, you’d have to start a FedEx account and pay shipping because you left it in Atlanta. You voluntarily parted from your bag.”

I was beginning to get the picture. They had a wonderful system whereby unfortunate souls who had their flights canceled and had issues with baggage were always at fault. I had committed two grave offenses, you see. I had rejected their “reasonable” accommodation of flying to Greenville via the handy city of Baltimore a day late, and I had “voluntarily parted” with my bag in Atlanta. Of course, they could have just flown to Greenville like I paid for. Ya know. Thirty minutes in the air. Done. No issues with baggage required. I still don’t know why they cancelled that portion of the flight. The weather was great by this time.

Southwest is officially in the dog house. I am unimpressed. I do understand acts of God. They couldn’t help the weather or the delays. But their communication skills were atrocious, and they could have helped that. It was a fluke that I found out my flight would not be continuing to Greenville. If I hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t have found out until I landed in Atlanta, because there were no announcements until after we touched down. Priscilla would have driven to Greenville because neither of us would have been the wiser.

So! Got any good airline recommendations for me? I used to love Southwest, but this last experience was a tad jolting, and I don’t feel like risking another epic voyage of Gilgamesh proportions any time soon. Share your favorite airline of choice with me in the comments.

And now…the happy part of my trip. Family!

I spent a lot of time with my brother, his wife and their little girl. Here she is holding one of her kitties. Poor kitty. He is a very sweet cat, really. His brother is not quite this chill, so I have no photos of him.

I’m sure the dress she’s wearing is familiar to you from several newsletters back. Anyway, this kid spends all of her free time outside, running around the yard and playing with her buddies, the cats, and the kids next door. I also got to visit my old church and go to their annual 4th of July picnic. Arabella wanted to enter the pie contest and so I helped her make a pie. We actually won a ribbon!

She forgot to hold the ribbon high enough for the photo.

I also got to take in the City of St. Joseph’s annual fireworks display. I’m just saying that it’s really hard for anyone anywhere to top St. Jo’s fireworks. If you ever make it to Michigan, you must visit St. Jo. It’s one of the most beautiful places in the states. For real.

The day before I left, my brother, Justin, hosted a cookout and treated everyone to a second fireworks display. That was fun.

One day, I took Jonathon to one of my old haunts. Back when I was single and lonely and sad a lot, I spent a lot of time hiking the path behind the apartment I shared with Justin to Lake Michigan. I’d sit down there on these massive boulders and think and write. It was fun to share my little retreat with Jonathon. I’m glad he insisted on sticking with me even when I wasn’t so sure. To be honest, I’m not sure where I’d be without him.

After that, I found a bunch of ticks on me. No bites! Just creepy crawlies. It was in Michigan, after all, that I acquired my old friend, Lyme. It gives me the willies even now, to think how close I came to another tick bite which is about the last thing I need right now. But after throwing every scrap of clothes on me in the drier, a thorough tick inspection and going through my hair with a fine-toothed comb, I can confidently say that I escaped unscathed.

In short, you’re now all caught up on my crazy week and the crazy day heading home which topped it all off.

Housekeeping

I’ll be sending the next chapter of

The Pursuit of Elizabeth Millhouse to paid supporters on Wednesday at 7:00 AM as usual. We’re nearing the end of this book and I need suggestions from you paid supporters about how I can continue to reward you for contributing to my book fund! What can I do for you next? Send me your suggestions in comments. And for the rest of you, please consider upgrading from free to paid so I can keep writing and publishing!

That’s all for now. Until next time, folks…