For the first time ever, last night I had a glint of concern regarding the ability to get back home. Today, I was supposed to fly back from the Connecticut EMS Conference. Like any good slave to the airline, I was trying to avoid using the kiosks at the terminal or having to bother a gate agent to get the boarding passes. Basically, I was going to check in on line and print them out.
I sit down in the business center of the hotel, log into the airline website and proceed to check in. However, I get an error message saying they can’t find my reservation and I need to go to the airport to get it taken care of. Hmmm? Whats up with that. Isn’t if funny how we have become dependent on the computer and the internet. I called the assistance hotline and it advised me I had a forty minute wait time. That’s not gonna happen. I decided to wait until around 10 pm, think it may be less busy. This time, it didn’t give a wait time. It just said to make sure I had food and water available and to watch for signs of malnutrition. Forget it. I will just be patient and wait until I get there in the morning.
I get to the airport and of course, to ease congestion I get directed to a kiosk. Same thing happens, SEE A GATE AGENT.
This is where I met a really nice airline employee. She was very helpful. Seriously.
Turns out, for some unknown reason my reservation for the flight home was cancelled. I could have gone into a panic or thrown a tantrum that would make an Adderall taking, red bull drinking 5 year look like an angel, but I employed that same old tried and true tactic of charm. It worked. Not only did I get on my original flights, but on the long leg I got a free upgrade to 1st class. I played down my excitement since I didn’t want to spoil the moment. I sincerely thanked her. She told me that when I got into Cleveland, see the gate agent and she would get me the rest of my boarding passes.
Pretty cool. Being nice paid off. I was just talking to my wife the other day and said that one day I would get upgraded for free. I just knew it. Fly like royalty. People waiting on you hand and foot. The American flying dream, lap of luxury, all that other rabble.
I learned something today. Don’t count those eggs before they hatch and Jagger was right, you don’t always get what you want.
I got into Cleveland and went to the gate. Gate agent was friendly enough. I was given my First Class boarding pass. I HAVE THE GOLDEN TICKET!. I’M GOING TO HOLLYWOOD!. The gate attendant then told me I was at the wrong gate for the flight. No big deal. Where is my pimped out gold plated first class airport golf cart to carry me to my gate, which was two gates down. I am a first class passenger and shall not do anything to bruise my rich stuff tenderness. (Side note: Don’t ask for this. They don’t exist. All you get out of it is a strange look and a cry out for security).
I get to my new gate and looked down at what seat I got. It said 26A. No. Someone has seriously messed up. I am a first class passenger. It is beneath me to fly 26 rows back in the plane with the common folk. Us First Class folk have to maintain our appearances. I cannot be seen in the same social circles, much less only have 4 inches of leg room.
I inform the new gate attendant of this grievous error. (Yes I was polite cause I did not want to mess up all the good fortune that I had been having). I even managed to tone down the aristocratic tone of voice I had developed over the past few hours. She of course had already asked for and acquired my ID. She looked at my ticket and said “You sure don’t look like a Dawn”. The ticket for 26A I had acquired was for another passenger. Honestly, I don’t even look like an ugly woman. Big mistake was made. I did breath a sigh of relief though cause I thought the dream was still within a mere football field distance. The gate attendant and I both had a good laugh.
I could not help myself. I did a rich, snobby, baritone I am better than you laugh. Just for a second. Wait....did something just slap me in the back of the head?
As my new best friend at the airport looked at the flight list, she tells me that she does not see how they upgraded me to First Class because every seat was taken. I wanted to fire back at her and tell her that well I know that, I am one of those passengers and of course the top .000035% of society is bestowed with the honor and privilege of flying in style. It is a birthright after all. But I refrained from that last comment. That slap of fate or karma hurt. Or it may have been a First Class passenger who could spot a royal alcove crasher.
I did calmly and sweetly ask her if there were any seats at all. She said yes. However, I had a choice at this point. I could go ahead and take a flight in 45 minutes to get me to Houston or wait to get on my original Houston bound flight. I played it up and hid my disappointment. “Ma’am, I really don’t mind doing what you would like me to do. Just as long as I can get back home and it doesn’t make you job any harder or cause you any trouble. After all, your job is hard enough and you have to work on a Sunday.”
She did let me know that on either flight, she only had middle seats available. Not the best seat, but I played it up again. “It doesn’t matter to me. Just whatever is easier for you.” She smiled and then gave me the last remaining ticket for an isle seat.
Not exactly first class, but at least I can stretch out my legs on a three hour flight. I can see first class from my seat. I don’t think I like those people up there. They think they are better than us back in steerage and think they are special.
I sit down in the business center of the hotel, log into the airline website and proceed to check in. However, I get an error message saying they can’t find my reservation and I need to go to the airport to get it taken care of. Hmmm? Whats up with that. Isn’t if funny how we have become dependent on the computer and the internet. I called the assistance hotline and it advised me I had a forty minute wait time. That’s not gonna happen. I decided to wait until around 10 pm, think it may be less busy. This time, it didn’t give a wait time. It just said to make sure I had food and water available and to watch for signs of malnutrition. Forget it. I will just be patient and wait until I get there in the morning.
I get to the airport and of course, to ease congestion I get directed to a kiosk. Same thing happens, SEE A GATE AGENT.
This is where I met a really nice airline employee. She was very helpful. Seriously.
Turns out, for some unknown reason my reservation for the flight home was cancelled. I could have gone into a panic or thrown a tantrum that would make an Adderall taking, red bull drinking 5 year look like an angel, but I employed that same old tried and true tactic of charm. It worked. Not only did I get on my original flights, but on the long leg I got a free upgrade to 1st class. I played down my excitement since I didn’t want to spoil the moment. I sincerely thanked her. She told me that when I got into Cleveland, see the gate agent and she would get me the rest of my boarding passes.
Pretty cool. Being nice paid off. I was just talking to my wife the other day and said that one day I would get upgraded for free. I just knew it. Fly like royalty. People waiting on you hand and foot. The American flying dream, lap of luxury, all that other rabble.
I learned something today. Don’t count those eggs before they hatch and Jagger was right, you don’t always get what you want.
I got into Cleveland and went to the gate. Gate agent was friendly enough. I was given my First Class boarding pass. I HAVE THE GOLDEN TICKET!. I’M GOING TO HOLLYWOOD!. The gate attendant then told me I was at the wrong gate for the flight. No big deal. Where is my pimped out gold plated first class airport golf cart to carry me to my gate, which was two gates down. I am a first class passenger and shall not do anything to bruise my rich stuff tenderness. (Side note: Don’t ask for this. They don’t exist. All you get out of it is a strange look and a cry out for security).
I get to my new gate and looked down at what seat I got. It said 26A. No. Someone has seriously messed up. I am a first class passenger. It is beneath me to fly 26 rows back in the plane with the common folk. Us First Class folk have to maintain our appearances. I cannot be seen in the same social circles, much less only have 4 inches of leg room.
I inform the new gate attendant of this grievous error. (Yes I was polite cause I did not want to mess up all the good fortune that I had been having). I even managed to tone down the aristocratic tone of voice I had developed over the past few hours. She of course had already asked for and acquired my ID. She looked at my ticket and said “You sure don’t look like a Dawn”. The ticket for 26A I had acquired was for another passenger. Honestly, I don’t even look like an ugly woman. Big mistake was made. I did breath a sigh of relief though cause I thought the dream was still within a mere football field distance. The gate attendant and I both had a good laugh.
I could not help myself. I did a rich, snobby, baritone I am better than you laugh. Just for a second. Wait....did something just slap me in the back of the head?
As my new best friend at the airport looked at the flight list, she tells me that she does not see how they upgraded me to First Class because every seat was taken. I wanted to fire back at her and tell her that well I know that, I am one of those passengers and of course the top .000035% of society is bestowed with the honor and privilege of flying in style. It is a birthright after all. But I refrained from that last comment. That slap of fate or karma hurt. Or it may have been a First Class passenger who could spot a royal alcove crasher.
I did calmly and sweetly ask her if there were any seats at all. She said yes. However, I had a choice at this point. I could go ahead and take a flight in 45 minutes to get me to Houston or wait to get on my original Houston bound flight. I played it up and hid my disappointment. “Ma’am, I really don’t mind doing what you would like me to do. Just as long as I can get back home and it doesn’t make you job any harder or cause you any trouble. After all, your job is hard enough and you have to work on a Sunday.”
She did let me know that on either flight, she only had middle seats available. Not the best seat, but I played it up again. “It doesn’t matter to me. Just whatever is easier for you.” She smiled and then gave me the last remaining ticket for an isle seat.
Not exactly first class, but at least I can stretch out my legs on a three hour flight. I can see first class from my seat. I don’t think I like those people up there. They think they are better than us back in steerage and think they are special.
RSS Feed
