One of our customers, $BigSwitchCo in San Jose, wanted us to come to their campus and talk with them regarding the state of the market.  Our sales department got wind of this and wanted to add on to the trip.  “Good will” calls on clients, that kind of thing.  I don’t really mind but the sales team took their sweet-ass time in getting the meetings set up.  Since we were only going to be at $BigSwitchCo for a day, there was some question about how many days we were going to be there.  Well, sales dicked around and we were only able to book a week or so in advance.  Not good.

I live in Green Bay.  In the language of the Airplane Indian tribe “Green Bay” is the word for “No Direct Flights”.  We have to fly to one of three hub cities, Chicago (O’Hell), Detroit, or Minneapolis.  We have a corporate travel portal run through a travel agency.  Consulting this, we found flights that cost a thousand dollars a piece and had us stopping like three or four times.  We consulted Travelocity and Orbitz.  No dice.    So we called up the travel agent.  He was not really able to help.  We ended up with the following itinerary:

Green Bay to Minneapolis
Minneapolis to Las Vegas
Las Vegas to San Jose

On the return:

San Jose to Phoenix, AZ
Phoenix, AZ to Minneapolis
Minneapolis to Green Bay

These flights were ticketed on Northwest but with the exception of the Minneapolis-Green Bay legs, they were all code share on US Airways.  Lovely.  But it got the job done, so we took the flights.  And yes, we looked into SFO as well.  The flights were no better there.

So the flight out happens uneventfully.  No real hiccoughs, just a long day of travel.  The fun started the evening before the return.

We had been told that the rental car returns at San Jose airport were brutal on Friday mornings, even more so early in the morning due to less shuttle buses running.  A lot of people in the Silicon Valley do a “weekly commute” and Friday is their return day.  Most of them take the earliest flights possible.  In addition, we were told that the security lines at San Jose would be bad for the same reason.

No problem.  We planned on turning in the car the night before and taking a taxi to the airport the next morning at 4:15am.  But this means early to bed for us. Yay, planning.

So we are driving out to San Jose airport from nearby Milpitas when my by co-worker $Gadget remembers:  We have a 7:00 meeting tonight.  And it’s six thirty.  Damnation and hellfire.  Okay, so we rush to the meeting site, getting there on time.  We had a nice meeting, probably about an hour and a half.  We return to the airport to drop off the car.  Just as we are about to pull in to the rental lot, we remember:  We haven’t gassed the car back up.  The rental car place will give us a petroleum-based anal inspection for the tune of about eight bucks a gallon if we return our trusty Ford Taurus with only half a tank.  So $Gadget pulls the car back out and we drive several miles up the road and gas up the Ford family truckster.  Then, it’s back to the rental place and a cab ride back to our fabulous accommodations in Milpitas.  By the time we get back and grab something to eat it is 10:30.  After packing and calming down enough to sleep, 11:30.  So much for getting to bed early.

At about 2:30 in the a.m. $Gadget gets a call from US Airways on his cell to the effect of:

Attention Air Traveler:  Your flight out of San Jose is delayed by an hour and a half.  You are going to miss all your connections.  No, we are not telling you why or what to do about it.  Ha ha!

$Gadget informs me of this when we meet outside for the taxi the hotel has arranged for us.  Well, all we can do is go there and see what US Airways can do.  As we are being taken to the (in a beat up mini-van I might add) I notice there is no meter in the car.  Strange for a taxi.  Turns out this is a car-for-hire or a “town car” as they say in New York.  He pulls up to the US Airways terminal and demand twenty five dollars.  A bit more than a similar taxi ride, but only by about five bucks.  I pull out two twenties and ask him:  “Do you have change?”  Well, I see the wheels of this little cretin’s mind working over and he says “No, I’m sorry I have no change.”  Fuck-a-duck.  I check with $Gadget, who is replete with credit cards but has no cash.  I give the driver a ration of shit and then give him the forty dollars.  Fuck it, I don’t have time to find change.  The airport is getting busy and we need to dance with US Airways.  With one last glare at the driver, we head inside.

US Airways is surprisingly helpful.  We have a young chiquita all ready and willing to help us.  She furiously works the terminal, occasionally stepping away to consult with her supervisor.  For our part, $Gadget and I are silent to see what the verdict is.  This is the last point in the day where things look better before we get home.

Our Chiquita hands us over a paper check for about $340.00. She also hands us some other paperwork.  Alarm bells begin to go off in my head.  She tells us she has arranged for a flight on Southwest to Phoenix.  From there we can take the rest of our pre-arranged flights home.  $Gadget and I look at each other, shrug and take the check and paperwork.  The check, on closer inspection, is made out to Southwest Airlines.  Odd, but whatever. 

We hoof it to a shuttle bus, which takes us to the “A” terminal where Southwest is.  We get inside and get in the “We Need Help” line.  There are about thirty mouth-breathers in this line, morons who can’t actually work the automated check-in kiosks.  In order to encourage use of the automated kiosks, Southwest has helpfully only put one person on customer service.  We proceed to wait in line what seemed at this point like forever, our IQs slowly being drained by the lack of though around us.

Upon reaching the customer service representative, we give her the check.  She is efficient, if not friendly.  We are about to walk away when $Gadget notices something.  Our baggage isn’t checked all the way through to Green Bay.  Only to Phoenix.  He points this out to our surly little ticket agent who then informs us, “Southwest Airlines does not have reciprocity with any other airline.  If you need your bags moved to US Airways, you will have to exit the secured area in Phoenix and get your bags from our baggage claim and check them into US Airways.”  We proceed to argue with her for a minute, but it is clear:  Southwest could care less about passenger refugees from US Airways.  The surly little bit of fluff even went so far to say “We don’t even have service to Green Bay!” as if that was a desirable condition. 

So $Gadget and I consult.  Our US Airways chiquita had to have known this right?  Sure!  She gave us and hour and a half between the Southwest flight and our departure from Phoenix.  She even said so.  (Although she failed to mention the baggage thing)  It was going to be suck, but we could go out, get our bags, and check them into US Airways and then go back in through security.  Heck, we figured we would even have time for a smoke!  Silly little travelers.

We take our Southwest flight to Phoenix.  For the record, Southwest is staffed by some of the rudest and uncaring people I have ever encountered.  Everyone I encountered was frowning, sneering or just plain unfriendly.  That and my fellow passengers seemed to all be lacking certain……intelligence.  I’m willing to withhold judgment on the passengers.  It is possible that after years of flying Southwest, they were just too depressed to say anything.

We get off the plane in Phoenix.  $Gadget checks his iPhone.  God’s Balls, the time zone.  The mother-loving time zone.  We don’t have an hour and a half.  We have a half an hour.  Worse, the gate we need to get to is on the OPPOSITE SIDE of the airport.  Virtually the entire airport will need to be transversed to get to our departure gate.  We quickly decide to go to our terminal and consult with US Airways.  We jog across the airport, laptops in hand.  $Gadget beats me to the gate by a good minute; my fat ass just can’t keep up.  Its fifteen minutes to departure. 

We grab a gate agent and tell her the story of “No Reciprocity”.  She asks us what we expect her to do.  I tell her I expect my luggage to arrive in Green Bay (doesn’t have to be today), and that means if a US Airways employee has to fetch it from Southwest, so be it.  This isn’t an acceptable option to her.

She tells us our plane is delayed by a half an hour.  She looks at the security line and tells us we have time to get our bags and get back.  $Gadget and I look at each other, resignation in our eyes.  We go out and hoof it over to the Southwest baggage claim marked “San Jose”.

The belt is turning; the baggage claim is going round and round.  Luggage is vomiting forth from the untold depths of Sky Harbor Airport.  I see some of the mouth-breathers from our Southwest flight picking up the luggage that they have tied brightly colored bits of string to in order to help their pattern recognition processes.  More baggage spews forth.  More mouth-breathers take their bags.  Time is a-wasting; I have had about three hours sleep and nothing to eat.  My sense of humor and good will towards my fellow man is at low ebb.  Suddenly the baggage belt stops.  Then the baggage claims stops its endless circle with the finality of a bullet to the temple.

$Gadget and I begin to jog towards the Southwest baggage claim, on the far far end of the claim area.  Each step takes us farther and farther away from our plane home.  I have a sudden suspicion and I glance at the next baggage claim.  There, sitting like lost children is our luggage.  On a baggage claim marked “El Paso”.  Stellar fucking job, Southwest.  Southwest must figure “San Jose & El Paso hmmmm…..they are both Spanish names.  Must be close together. No point in making sure the baggage goes on the right belt!”  Never mind those two cities aren’t even in the same mother-loving state.   

We grab our luggage and make the mad dash to the US Airways ticket counter to check the luggage in.  The lines are non-existent.  $Gadget goes to one lady and I run over to another dude, about twenty feet apart.  I tell him this bag is for our flight to Minneapolis.  He looks at me as if I have grown a large and hairy testicle out of my forehead. The ensuing conversation went something like this:

Male Ticket Agent:  “You can’t check in bags less than twenty minutes before the flight leaves.  No exceptions.”

Me:  “But our flight is delayed!  The gate agent told us to do this.”

MTA:  “No.”

Me:  “But how are we…..”
MTA:  “No.  NO.  No exceptions”

I look over at $Gadget.  His female agent is taking his bag.  I point over there, just as $Gadget is getting ready to walk away.

Me:  “She took his bags!  He’s traveling with me!”

MTA:  (yelling now) “Hey!  You can’t take those bags!”

Shit.  I just got $Gadget busted.  We all go over by the female agent.  She takes the goddamn tag OFF of $Gadget’s luggage and proceeds to call a supervisor.  This whole time, me and the MTA are giving each other the hairy eyeball.  The MTA gives me one last glare and grunts before moving off.  The female ticket agent tells us our flight has left.

I am at about 9 on the pissed off scale at this point.  The FTA starts to fuss about getting us another flight and is essentially blaming us for causing the problem I start to tell her what happened when she points at me and says:

“Sir!  Stand back twenty feet and let me take care of this gentleman! (indicating $Gadget)”

I throw my hands into the air “Fine.  I might as well go out and have a smoke.  We missed the damn plane anyway!”  I walk to the nearest exit with my laptop bag and go out.  I fire up a Marlboro Menthol Light 100 and slowly drag that smoke down.  I take it slow, enjoying each puff.  My stomach is growling, my blood sugar is low and I am pissed.  US Airways has managed to fuck us six ways from Sunday.  Bad advice on top of bad advice.  I take the time to calm down.  I am close to losing it completely and I need to be in a better frame of mind.  About half way through the smoke, I realize I have left my main bag next to $Gadget’s leg.  No worries, $Gadget has got it.  I finish calming down and walk back into the airport.

I notice, near the rope entrance to US Airways is a gaggle of four cops in uniform.  City fellows from Phoenix PD, not the standard TSA Tards.  They look at me.  I look at them, but keep walking.  I navigate the rope maze and get back to where $Gadget is still standing, talking to FTA.  I walk up and apologize to the FTA for losing my temper.  I look back and the cops are dispersing, going back to wherever it is that cops hang out at in an airport.  $Gadget tell me the MTA had called the cops on me for “abandoning a bag” even though it was practically touching $Gadget’s leg.  I glare over at MTA who glares back, but we say nothing.  Assclown.  $Gadget told the cops he was watching it for me (and he was) and told them the story of our day.  He also gave them his business card.  That seemed to calm them down.  I owe $Gadget big time for that.

Meantime, FTA is looking to get us home.  After 45 minutes of phone calls and computer searches it comes down to this:  It’s the Friday before Thanksgiving and two days before a home Packer game.  There are no seats from anywhere to be had to Green Bay. Or Appleton. (30 miles south of Green Bay)  She can get us to Milwaukee at 12:45 at night.  Gadget and I will have been up for like 18 hours by then.  Only an hour and a half drive home from there, but we will be in no shape to make the drive.  More searching.  She can get us in to Chicago at 6:00 at night.  We decide to take it.  It is a four hour drive to Green Bay in an expensive one way rental car, but it still gets us home before the Milwaukee flight would have even landed.  She issues tickets and takes our luggage.

We then go through security.  Extra-special security where they do everything but tell you to bend and spread ‘em.  This is because we changed our destination city.  No big deal, for once the TSA is friendly and fairly fast, even with the extra security check.

To finish this up, I got home at about 11:30 at night, after dropping off the rental car and taking $Gadget home. 

Never have I been fucked by an airline like this.  Don’t get me wrong, I have been lied to by airlines, delayed, re-routed and generally messed with.  But NEVER have I dealt with such a hostile and indifferent bunch as I came across in the form of US Airways and to a lesser extent Southwest.  The ticket agent is San Jose fucked us hard by putting us on Southwest.  Her only concern was to preserve the last to legs of our flight on their airline.  No thought to luggage or time between flights.  The gate agent in Phoenix who sent us out for our bags should have known we couldn’t check them in so close to the flight.  The MTA and FTA took the most impolite and least customer service oriented path with us when we came to them.  All I wanted was for somebody to say “I’m sorry, we will make this right.”

And that is my long-assed story about my air travel last week.