Untied

The title of this post has a dual significance. First, it is the derogatory nickname that Pierre and I have always used for United Airlines (other favorites include “Doesn’t Even Leave The Airport” for Delta, “Southworst” for Southwest, and “US Scare” for US Airways, which purposely changed its name from US Air to thwart our name-calling). Second, it is the mental condition United Airlines left us in following one of the worst travel experiences of our lives. What should have been a short and straightforward journey to Palm Springs turned into a 15-hour ordeal from hell.

I should have known it would be a bad day for traveling when I woke up to the news that BART was not running from the East Bay to San Francisco due to a fire near the tracks, which had affected their electrical systems. This meant that I, along with the tens of thousands of other people who take BART to the City for work every day, would have to find an alternate means of transportation. I naturally opted for my favorite (if longer and more expensive) means of commuting, the ferry, which did a commendable job of getting us through the lines and across the Bay in about an hour or so. Other commuters were not so lucky, waiting in bus lines for four hours or sitting in unmoving traffic on the Bay Bridge. Still, you would think the drama would have satisfied my travel suffering quota for the month. If only.

That evening, Pierre took the ferry over and then caught BART in the City, meeting up with me at Civic Center station. We arrived at SFO quickly and painlessly, checked our bags, and went through security fairly quickly (or in Pierre’s case, extremely quickly, now that he has his Clear pass back). That would be the easiest part of our trip.

Our flight to Palm Springs was scheduled to depart at 10:30 p.m. At 10:00 p.m., we were at the gate and ready to board, but noticed there was no plane. At 10:20, we started getting automatic emails from United, telling us that our flight was delayed…and delayed…and delayed. Finally at around 11:15 or so, the gate agent announced that there was a mechanical problem with the plane (which we still had yet to see), and that they needed 15 volunteers to take a flight to Vegas, spend the night there, and catch a flight to Palm Springs the next morning. For their trouble, these volunteers would be given a free hotel in Vegas and a $300 flight credit for a future United flight. If they did not get 15 volunteers, the agent said, the plane would not be safe to fly because of an “anti-skid problem,” and the flight would be cancelled.

“Let’s do it,” I said to Pierre. I was enticed by the free night in Vegas and by the cash, but mostly I was just terrified at the prospect of getting on a plane that was only safe if some seemingly arbitrary number of passengers were not aboard. I also found the whole thing suspicious. Where was our plane? Why 15 people? Why not 10 extra-large people? What if the remaining passengers had really heavy bags that were the equivalent of the weight of the 15 volunteers?

But Pierre was practical. “We’ve already paid for the room in Palm Springs tonight,” he said. “Plus they already have 15 volunteers, so we should be fine.” And so we waited. And then, surprise surprise, shortly after they’d whisked away the 15 volunteers to their free flight to Vegas, they told us our flight was cancelled anyway. They sent us to United customer service, a good half-mile away in the terminal, and never once said sorry.

Really?

Apparently ours was not the only United flight to be cancelled that night, because the line for customer service was about three miles long and took us over an hour to get through. While we were waiting in line, Pierre called our hotel in Palm Springs and told them we needed to cancel our first night’s reservation, but that we would be there the following night. He made this very, very clear. For the record.

When we finally reached the front of the United line, the representative told us she could put us on a flight to Ontario at 6:45 the next morning, and then we could rent a car and drive an hour to Palm Springs. “Fine,” we said, “but you’ll put us up in a hotel tonight, right?” Nope. The stupid U.S. Open was taking place nearby, which meant no hotel rooms were available. Could we go home and sleep for a few hours? Nope again. It was well after midnight by the time we got to the front of the line, and BART had stopped running long ago. Nor was it worth paying $200 for a round-trip cab ride. Our hearts fell as we realized that we would be sleeping in the airport. “Could we have a blanket and pillow?” Um, no. They didn’t have any, though they graciously gave us a bottle of water and a packet of two Oreo cookies.

When we thought about the ordeal that still lay before us, we decided to ask what would happen if we just threw in the towel and cancelled our flight altogether. The representative looked up our fare. “Oh, sorry,” she said as she looked at the screen. “Looks like you booked a non-refundable fare.” So let me get this straight: United can cancel our flight, but we can’t get our money back?! Seriously?

Okay, how about the $300 flight voucher that those Vegas volunteers got? “Oh, no,” the representative said, trying to pretend to be sad for us. “But I can give you a $100 flight voucher and a $10 meal voucher.” (We later found out we were fortunate to get the $100, as many others on our flight who don’t complain as much as we do didn’t get anything!) Where could we cash in that amazingly generous meal voucher? At the Subway shop, which was outside security. And once we were outside security, we’d have to wait until security reopened in a few hours before we could come back in. Brilliant, United and SFO. Brilliant. And finally, what about our bags? Not to worry, she reassured us. They would be re-routed to Ontario on our flight.

And with that, we were off to find our bed for the next few hours. We went to our gate, pulled two sets of seats together, and did the best we could to get some sleep.

While Pierre tried to sleep...

...I entertained myself by taking pictures of the empty terminal.

If you’ve ever been to SFO, you’ve no doubt heard the PA announcements that play every few minutes, inviting service members to visit the USO center, reminding people not to smoke in the airport, and to use an elevator if you have a luggage cart. I kind of always assumed those messages stopped playing when the people were gone. They don’t. They play all night long, and they’re loud. They also don’t turn off the air conditioning, and the vents blow frigid air directly onto the seats, even when it’s 3 a.m. and really not hot outside. I woke up from my very light sleep a few times during the night to find myself convulsing with shivers (remember, we had no blankets because United sucks). Then I would nod off again, only to be jolted awake by an announcement about the USO center.

While I “slept,” Pierre booked a rental car so we could get from Ontario to Palm Springs. Or so he thought.

When at long last we got to Ontario, we were not surprised in the least to discover that our bags had not arrived as United had promised they would. No one else who was trying to make it to Palm Springs had their bags either. Could they just scan our luggage tags to find out where they were? Nope. Apparently that crazy new technology doesn’t exist at the Ontario airport. So Pierre got on the phone with United customer service and learned that our bags would be arriving in Palm Springs that afternoon from Vegas — presumably with those 15 well-rested people who had volunteered to give up their seats on the non-existent flight and spent the night in Vegas instead.

On to the rental car counter, where we had to wait an eternity for the couple in front of us to decide what kind of car they wanted. I kid you not, the woman was demanding that the car be a certain color (I think she wanted gray). It seems she didn’t understand that she was renting, not buying, the vehicle. When our turn finally came – surprise! – no reservation on file. At this point, all we could do was laugh at the absurdity of our bad luck.

We worked it out, got a new reservation, and – 15 hours later than planned – arrived at the Hyatt in Palm Springs. Slightly delirious, we approached the front desk and provided our name. I knew even before the guy said anything that we weren’t going to have a room. It just wouldn’t have felt right for anything to work out at that point. So when his face grew puzzled-concerned and he told us our reservation had been cancelled the day before (even though Pierre made it crystal clear that we were only cancelling one night), I shrugged. Of course it had! And of course the guy didn’t know how to rectify the situation so we had to wait for his colleague who was busy checking in eight other guests. Miraculously, when she finally got to us, she actually knew what she was doing and was able to get us our room back. So, Jackie at the Palm Springs Hyatt, we’d like to apologize if we were a little surly. We had been through a lot by the time we met you. We hope you understand and forgive us.

But really. WTF? Why is it we were able to travel to some very poor and supposedly inefficient countries over the past year without ever having to deal with this much aggravation? The closest we came was when Lan Chile cancelled our flight from Easter Island to Santiago without telling us, but at least they compensated for their screw-up (and then some) by giving us more hotel, food, and transportation credits than we actually needed. Customer service is clearly on the decline in this country, but you would think the economic situation would make companies want to try a little harder. Instead, they just get worse and worse, especially the airlines. Do I just expect more when I’m home, so that when things go wrong they seem really, really wrong?

Anyway, whatever. It was horrible, but in the end it was all worth it because we got to attend a fabulous wedding and spend time poolside with Greg Louganis. Details to come!