Greetings from London! No, I’m not on holiday on the continent. Fancy People get just as screwed by airlines and crap weather as Poor Folk. We just don’t deal with it as well. So, a couple weeks back my fine friend Notes http://www.notestoselfplustwo.com/ invited me to a rant. At the time I only had one thing making me crazy: Hey Nannies! Stop getting sick so I can spend an hour at the computer! But after 2 full days at Heathrow, I’ve got a whole can of Fancy Anger to unleash. If you will so indulge me…
Hey BAA! You do know that it snows sometimes in England, right? So why do you only have one deicer and why doesn’t anyone know how to use it? You ever flown out of Helsinki? They don’t seem to have a problem with 2 feet of snow, but 14 flakes had you completely paralyzed. It’s not the first time, it’s not the last so get a frickin’ plan please!
Hey Check In Desk! Kindly stop telling me to go to the self-check in kiosk. Can you not see the two infants I’m pushing with one hand while the other holds three bags of food, toys and diapers? People with babies can’t use the kiosk. Why do I have to explain this to you? Put down your coffee and get out your little typing finger and check me the hell in!
Hey BA! If you cancel my flight, maybe you could automatically rebook me? It might not be the perfect time or day but at least I’ll have a plan. If you can’t do that, can you pick up your phone? Maybe hire someone to work the lines after 8pm? Not just hang up on me every time I call (no less than 50 times thank you) after a very insincere apology that you are “very busy.” ANSWER THE GD PHONE!
Hey BAA and BA! When you unload the luggage from cancelled flights, could you have a plan? Say maybe all luggage from one flight, then all the luggage from another? That might be better than the scene Saturday night, when you started dumping random, unannounced bags on the floor, realized what a disaster you’d created and then closed the hall and kicked everyone out. I’ll say it again: get a plan. Any 5 year-old could have handled that situation with more intelligence.
Hey Managers! When the airport is a disaster, come to work. I know it’s Saturday and it’s cold out. But do you really want your underlings telling me that they are on their own, with no one making decisions because you’re sitting on your couch with a cup of mulled wine? Get off your ass and fix this!
Hey Fellow Travellers! Guess what, I also want my bags and I also didn’t sleep last night. So stop shoving and get in the fucking queue. We aren’t getting our bags any faster if you insist on crowding the airline representative at the door or ignoring the police who are trying to exert a little crowd control. Sit down and read a book like I’m doing. I’ve been in the queue for 3 hours. Get the fuck behind me!
Hey Overhead announcement lady! Stop telling me to leave the airport and rebook online. Your website won’t allow me to. You haven’t updated it. And no, I can’t report lost luggage there either. Your site specifically asks for the 10-digit number that you are supposed to hand me in person. And by the way, why, oh why do you give the microphone to the person with the thickest accent you can find? It’s like a scene from Charlie Brown when the teacher is talking. Can’t understand you!
And finally, British Airways, I’m talking to you. Don’t put my luggage from my cancelled flight in a big container on the tarmac that you can’t access after 1/16th an inch of snow. I gave you my travel cots and snowsuits in good faith. That bag had their new Christmas PJs and beautiful Ralph Lauren mittens. I didn’t go anywhere but you still have my children’s things. And you are telling me that maybe I’ll see them in a few days. That would be helpful if I didn’t need them for the trip I’m planning on taking tomorrow with a different airline. You have my Christmas in those bags and you are holding it hostage. After 8 hours with you yesterday, I bet you know that I’m the kind of lady who would happily slide across the ice and snow, risking life and limb to get her Fancy travel beds. Because now my children have nowhere to sleep and their shoes won't match their dresses at Christmas dinner. I hate you.
Thank you for listening. The adventure continues. Will update accordingly.