Meandering thoughts of a sailor, traveler and foodie.: Air Travel is Glamorous

I don’t plan to make this blog a rant about how airlines suck, but, man, I’ve not been lucky lately.

So, my airline du voyage was United. Never been a big fan of United, but hoped after the merger that they would have a better infrastructure.

Besides, the round trip ticket was dirt cheap. And my illustrious employer finally okay’d extra leg room seats for economy, something American got rid of but United has.

I didn’t realize the ticket would be dirt cheap because the AIRPLANE was optional.

So, heading out to Singapore, my KC-Newark-Hong Kong-Singapore flight became…you just won a free overnight trip to Hong Kong! Enjoy! We were delayed in Newark for three hours, as a result we missed our connection. However, due to the excellent organizational capabilities of folks in Hong Kong, I got off the plan to receive my packet containing my new ticket for the next day, a voucher for a hotel room and a meal credit. Okay, this isn’t so bad, I’ll deal.

Finally get to Singapore, delighted that my luggage made it also and have a great week in Singapore.

Trip home sucked.

Trip home was originally: Singapore-Tokyo-Chicago-KC

Then it became Singapore-Tokyo-Honolulu-Houston-KC

Then it became Singapore-Tokyo-Honolulu-LAX-Denver-KC

We started off fine in Singapore, next thing I know I’m grabbing my backpack to hear: Flight 882 to Chicago has been cancelled. Be prepared for hell on earth.

So, over THREE HOURS later, standing/sitting/pacing in line I finally get my new tickets. I’ll be spending the day in Honolulu. Aloha Oe. Mahalo.

So, United’s Tokyo crew very much screwed up here, because my notification about the flight said it came through in the morning, after I was one hour into my 7 hour flight to Tokyo. So, they had 6 hours to re-book a couple of hundred people. And probably in a more efficient manner since they wouldn’t have to deal with a hostile crowd screaming their bloody heads off at them. But no, let’s wait until they all get here and then try to pull this off. Better yet, they couldn’t put anybody up in a hotel because it was a Japanese holiday and no hotels were available. Which is probably just as well, even though I was able to conjure up the limited Japanese I had learned as a child while living in Okinawa, Japan is second only to the United States with the centralized language thing. Which got me on my “Speak Japanese or get out” self -induced hilarity.

So, they finally got me on a plane to Honolulu. It was a old, crowded, and hot 757 and very uncomfortable. Now that I’m pretty much in my first 24 hours of no sleep, I’m starting to get punchy. As we are landing in Honolulu I look out on the wing and notice that All Nippon Airways has the Rising Sun on their wing. Just like the Zero’s had in WWII. And we are landing in Honolulu…right over Pearl Harbor….awkward…..(dude, I’m not really with them, you know that right?).

So, I land in Honolulu get through customs, about weep to see that my bag made it---asked the customs folks if I could grab my shorts, swim suit and flip flops out—I could! Yay! Happy day. So, now my Saturday starts for the second time. I’ve gone BACK in time, I’m a time traveller, whoo hoo. Turn on phone. Ding. You have one voice mail.

“This is United Airlines, your flight to Houston has been cancelled”

F*****--well, I’m technically in the United States, so it should get better. So I proceed to get a hotel room, take a very long shower (that was worth the price of admission right there) and stretch out.

Ding. You have another voice mail.

“This is United Airlines, your flight to Houston has been reinstated but is now four hours late” (I’m not making it home to KC tomorrow)

So, when life gives you taro root, you make poi and have a Mai Tai. (Actually, don’t ever have poi, it’s gawdawful—you’ll thank me for this advice)

But I did make the best of it and had a lovely hunk of Fresh Ahi at Duke’s on Waikiki beach, strolled around, went shopping, and later that evening headed to the airport. In which I was about to find out what more fun I was in store for.

I get up to the counter and Curtis, my NEW best friend asks how can he help me. I said, I’m a bit of a problem child, but here you go. 10 minutes later, Curtis is in the fetal position whimpering. Apparently, Tokyo didn’t do my tickets correctly, so technically I entered the country illegally (no binding contract of carriage), not only that I was on 12 different manifests for flights.

So, my buddy Curtis has to set me aside and go to the special back room and get with United central and fix the cluster-f**k that is my itinerary. About half hour later, Curtis says, okay, here we go, you won’t be flying through Houston. You’ll have to go LAX-Denver-KC. But that’s the only way I can get you home tomorrow at a reasonable time. I’ve got your itinerary fixed so TSA won’t be taking you aside for a special body cavity check or you wind up needing a redress number for the rest of your life. Here’s some food coupons, now have a safe flight and go away, Aloha. (I love this guy).

Except for a late arrival and tight connection in LA (in which I probably would have finally snapped), the rest of the flight went smoothly. And miracles of miracles, my luggage made it also!

There’s actually a punchline to this. My spouse picks me up at the airport, happy to see me, I’m now about 48 hours without any discernable amount of sleep and he says: “Where do you want to go for your birthday?”

I was too tired to punch him.