Air Sick

The only bad thing about San Francisco was the travelling. Every time I fly I am certain that my luggage will not be waiting for me when I get off the plane, but I have never been right until this week.

I flew on United into Denver and met Christina, where we found out that our flight to San Francisco had been cancelled. We were put on a later Frontier flight, so of course when we got to San Francisco we had no luggage. Poor Frontier tried to take care of us, but it turned out that our suitcases were sitting on the floor in front of the United desk.

Fast forward to yesterday, when our first flight was delayed an hour and a half. I spent about two hours waiting in the customer service line, hoping to reschedule the second leg of my trip which I'd miss by about twenty minutes. Unfortunately, about ALL of United's flights were problematic, so everyone in the entire concourse was also trying to speak with the three slow, uninterested people manning the desk. I was six people from the front of the line when I had to leave to get on the flight to Denver.

After a long talk with Denver's United desk, I ended up staying the night in Colorado Springs with Christina and flying to Chicago this morning to catch a flight to Akron. This is fine, because the Akron airport really is the better situation for me, but I really don't like that my suitcase is somewhere in airport purgatory. Occasionally my mind wanders and I start thinking about all the great things packed in it, things like my brand-new Christmas ornament cookie cutters (I bought them in Sonoma), my favorite pair of jeans, my Little Black Dress* and generally a lot of things I'd like to have before I start my job tomorrow.

The moral of this story is that you should never, ever, EVER fly United, and I don't care if they are paying YOU to get on their planes, just don't do it. It sucks all the enjoyment out of flying when you can't trust that you're going to be where you want to be when you want to be there. United Airlines, this is my formal declaration of disgust for you.

*You know, the standard Little Black Dress. Which I love, and which took me forever to find.