Kathleen's Curse

I took a lot of time and care selecting out flights to Tennessee. It was frustrating because there are no direct flights from Manchester to Nashville, and there are certain airports I would prefer to avoid, and certain airlines I also prefer to avoid. I also wanted to make sure we wouldn't have too little or too much time waiting for our second flight, because the boys would be with me. After much thought and discussion with my Mom, who was flying with me, I chose to fly Continental, and chose to stop over in Newark.

I wish I could tell you what it was like to fly Continental, or even describe the Newark airport. But I can't. Because in all our travels we did not step foot on a Continental plane.

The first woman I spoke to quickly informed me that one of our flights had been canceled due to weather. She then quickly called a different airline and told us we could fly to Laguardia and then to Nashville if we hurried over to that counter. So we did. But the ladies THERE told us the second of those flights were already oversold, so we ended up flying to DC, waiting there for five hours for our departure time, waited an additional hour and a half for the delay, saw John Kerry in a tete-a-tete with a bunch of suits, and made it to Nashville about three hours after we were scheduled to.

What really got to me, though, was that the Continental lady? The one who quickly shooed us over to the other airline to get us on one of their grossly overbooked flights? That one? Well, she erased our return reservation.

That's right. I really hate her.

So we showed up to get on a plane to fly home, hoping that whatever bad luck I had flying in the past would let up and we could just get on a plane and go where we were supposed to go when we were supposed to go there. But instead this man, who was as helpful as he could be and very nice and apologetic, told us our reservation had been erased. And there was no more room on the flights. In fact, there were no more room on ANY flights, not even from other airlines. Not four tickets together, anyway. So we would have to split up. And we would have enormous layovers. But we got meal vouchers, so... whatever.

What I want to know is... what are those people DOING ON THOSE COMPUTERS? This nice Continental guy types for twenty minutes, then sends us over to the other airline counter, where we repeat our story, and over the printed sheet of paper, and then answer the same series of questions while THIS guy types for twenty minutes.

The security lady sent me back because my ticket failed to specify Andy as a lap child. At the counter, one of the airline folks picked up a pen, wrote Andy's name and birth date on it, and sent me back. How high tech. But this time security let me through. I should have just asked to borrow her pen.

Then we were informed that we won a million dollars! Well, no. We were informed that our party had been randomly selected for the special security search, but the tone of voice suggested that we should be thrilled. I know, I know, I should be thankful our country is keeping us safe. But I can't tell you what it's like watching someone pat down your two year old... your FIVE MONTH OLD. The security people should feel stupid. I hope they feel stupid. Honestly, what are they proving by putting people through this? Babies. They are patting down babies. The people with weapons are sneaking them onto the planes along with the luggage. I don't feel any more safe. I feel a lot more hassled and inconvenienced and bossed around.

I know this is long, and I'm complaining and I've said it all before, etc. I just wish I could have one trip without this nonsense. Steve flies all the time on regularly scheduled, non-delayed flights. I think it's me. I don't know why I bother buying a ticket at all. I may as well just show up and say "send me there however you like." Seriously, you can't do it, though. They make you choose your own flights, your own layover... and then it doesn't matter because they change it anyway. It's the illusion of choice.