The flight to New Zealand was due to leave from Terminal 2, Los Angeles at 10pm on Sunday night. I knew from experience to allow several hours’ padding between that flight and the connecting United Airlines flight from San Francisco that afternoon, in case the flight was delayed.
I got to San Francisco airport at 2pm to find it had been canceled altogether.
“Oh, that flight’s been canceled,” announced the man who I was trying to give my check-in luggage to. “You’ll have to change your flight at the ticket machine.”
The ticket machine said that no flight would be available until tomorrow. “But I have to fly today,” I told the machine, realizing I was talking to a machine but struggling to follow my own advice on this blog by remaining Zen and avoiding Airport Rage.
Then a lady shouted, “Anyone with a canceled flight should line up at Desk 16!” Trouble was, the line didn’t move. There was a long queue and one person at the counter who couldn’t do anything.
People were getting angry. Some seemed to have Tourette’s. They all complained to each other how inconvenient all this was and how their situation was more pressing than everyone else’s. “I have to be there,” they said simply.
Soon the cellphones came out. “Agent! Yes! I want to talk to a person!” they cried to the United answer service. “I have to be there,” some said simply. Some made it on to other airlines and flights, and passed on details like betters with inside tips. “Try Delta… I made the 6.15.”
Other people got disconnected and transfered to other operators who were confused. There were some tears. Those who made it to the front counter were raising their voices to dangerous levels.
Luckily I made it to another airline, but my ticket looked strange, like it had been booked at the last minute. I was treated with deep suspicion. Mysterious symbols were scrawled on my ticket in red. I was told to wait behind a fence. My laptop was swabbed and I was ordered to step into the Explosives Check Machine, which hissed air at me.
The flight left three hours later, but I could still make my transfer in LA. However, upon arrival I encountered a two-hour check-in queue. There were two staff to check in hundreds of people on two Air New Zealand flights, although they had devoted three staff for the Business Class lines. People’s Tourette’s sprang up again. “This is a SHIT service!” blustered the man in front of me. I hung my head, ashamed of my national airline and dog tired of airport gloom.
Somehow we shuffled forward one by one, then ran like athletes and made it onto the flight. We took off at 10pm Sunday night, Monday lasted 30 seconds as we crossed time zones heading west, and we landed at 6am Tuesday, stiff-legged and lugging our cases out into the crisp, early morning sunshine. Free again.
July 23rd, 2007 at 7:09 pm
Wow, that sounds like a really awful airline! Perhaps this was one of their bad days? If not they are not going to be getting much business from me, I will tell you that.
July 23rd, 2007 at 7:16 pm
Which one, United or Air NZ?
The Air NZ flight was actually pretty nice, apart from the length (13 hours) because it was a new plane… it was the check-in that sucked. Still, I’ve waited longer than that at Heathrow.
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