Delta and Me; a not so good trip.

In recent years,  Delta airlines merged with Northwest, incurring the absorption of my remaining frequent flyer miles into the Delta Skymiles Program. Unfortunately for me,  they add up to about one intercontinental flight I probably won't be using. 

On our trip to California this year,  we tried Delta.  I had a negative perception of them left over from my father cursing them during my many childhood flights, but they had the cheapest tickets. 

So... you know. 

Well,  this comedy of errors has not come to curtain,  and yet,  I am rather compelled to share my experience so far with my readership of web crawling bots.  I am starting this entry from the seat of a 757 waiting to take off from Atlanta.

We started out with a surprise, before even getting ready to pack: enter an email from Delta informing us that a layover has been added to our itinerary.  Our flight out of DC was supposed to stop over in Minneapolis/St. Paul before going on to San Jose.

Delta felt that we should enjoy the scenic vistas of Salt Lake City as well,  but only for such a brief time as to take pictures during take- off and landing; stealthily attempting to hide the use of the cell phone camera from the stewardesses.  Even though this additional layover was barely long enough to get from one gate to another,  it added on two hours to our travel time. 

Thanks,  Delta. 

But I digress. 

So with new itineraries in hand,  we arrive at Reagan National during the wee hours of the morning.  We board our little plane and take off for Minneapolis /St. Paul.  Everything went smoothly until we landed at the sprawling twin cities airport.  
We disembark the plane  with all of our luggage (we avoid checking because it costs more,  duh.)

The board at our gate directs us to our next gate (of course it isn't listed on our tickets) and we trek a solid 25 minute hike at a brisk pace to find our flight to Salt Lake. 

We relax at the gate then start to wonder why we haven't begun boarding.  We waddle over to another board and see that our flight has been bumped to a gate on the other end of the airport. 

It has started boarding.  There was no announcement. 

So now, we haul ass 25 minutes back to right near where we landed, arriving out of breath and sweaty.  We made it.  My feet/arms/lungs hurt.

Thanks,  Delta.

At Salt Lake City,  as I have already mentioned,  we have a miniscule layover,  but of course our next gate is about as distant as possible from our arriving gate.  We hustle on,  passing up a few photo ops of the beautiful snow capped rockies. Our flight to San Jose had started boarding as we landed.

We get to our new gate and are informed that the flight is full and we will need to check our carry-ons. 

Whatever.  Fine.  Take them. 

The man takes our bags,  affixes pink tickets and throws them on a cart to be taken to cargo. Pretty seamless,  this time,  though it was rather a rush. 

We are finally in San Jose.  The pilot makes an announcement about our checked bags being at the gate when we arrive. 

We wander down the jet bridge to the gate and look around for bags.  No sign.  I speak to the man at the counter,  asking where our luggage will go of it was checked at the gate.  He asks what color my receipt is.  There is no receipt. 

People are flooding off of our plane,  and none of them seem to be down a bag or two. 

He says we probably should go to the carousel.  I don't feel good about it.  We hang out at the gate some more and  see our bags get loaded onto an elevator to the bridge. I go back and ask the man if we can go back down the connecty thing to the part where our bags are being dumped and he says we can't go back in after getting off.  So now he has to go get our stuff.  Which is kind of funny.

Thanks, Delta.

Day one of deltified travel complete.  We made it. 

On the return trip we had some excitement.  Of course. 

First,  while we were waiting at our gate for boarding (past security)  a couple of Vietnamese dudes roll up and ask us where the they can get their tickets.  I asked "Your tickets? You have to ALREADY have tickets to be back here. " 
They clarify that they mean boarding passes.  And we point them toward security.  HOW DID THEY GET TO THE GATES WITHOUT BOARDING PASSES?  In the world of today,  the thought is a little terrifying. 

Finally, the time to board arrives.  Oh dear.  The flight is overbooked.  Shocking.

Who volunteers to wait for a later flight?  They only need two or three people. Not a lot of takers.  OR any. 

Whatever,  not my problem. 

The gate keepers jump on the speakers again to inform us,  and I quote, 

"Um,  so,  this flight may experience a delay in boarding.  There is something wrong with the plane,  but we don't know what it is yet." 

Restless mumbles and some sardonic laughter from the passengers.  The lady gets on again,  perhaps hoping to assuage some fears.

"What they sayin' is: the pilots' instruments isn't workin' right,  but don't worry,  we'll have you on this plane tonight."  Her insight falls a little flat. 

I realize that I am off on Thursday all day,  and go up to ask if the need volunteers to switch flights.  The guy looks at the girl and asks do they need more volunteers.  She says "naw..."
He turns to me and says "naw."
Great. 

Eventually,  they fix the plane,  or give up on it,  or whatever,  and we board,  about 45 minutes behind schedule.

Aboard,  the pilot comes on to tell us that Delta is sorry about the delay,  and that the big problem was a sticky cargo bay door that they had a hard time opening and closing.  But it's all better now. 

Oh yeah and there was a weird light on in the instrument panel.  Seems fine now though! 
Up, up, and away! 

As we taxi toward Atlanta,  the little TVs pop open to show us Delta's new,  slightly humorous, safety video.  About a quarter of the way through, during take-off, power in the cabin flickers hard, and there is a strange crackling sound, but everyone's TVs reopen to resume their spiel 

Well,  except ours,  which has a black screen and is seizing open and closed at us menacingly.  After it has its fun,  and we are sufficiently unnerved,  it reopens on its own and picks back up into the video.

Good thing I know all about placing the bag over my own nose and mouth before assisting others.

Thanks for the fancy plane,  Delta.

Atlanta finds its way below us after a night of turbulence and our inability to turn off the Billy Crystal movie that makes one sort of wish the power in the cabin would go back out.  Also, there is a baby on the flight.  Did I mention that the TVs are for everyone to enjoy,  so even if they are right above your seat on a red eye flight,  you can't turn them off?  Did I mention that?

Thanks Delta.

And Billy Crystal. 

And Woman with Baby.

As we taxi in Atlanta,  it becomes apparent that our next flight is already boarding. And we have to ride a tram to get to it.

We won't be on that plane.  But our luggage will!  They made us check it again,  what with their chronic "booked-to-the-gills-itis". 

The captain comes on to let us know that no one will be missing their connections. 

Hurrah! A success story. 

I doubt it.  I say so to Josh. We load up our itinerary on our phones and rebook for the next flight into DC which leaves in an hour. 

As we truck through massive Atlanta, we see the gate for the flight we should be on.  The screen next to it says the stand-by passengers have been cleared to fly, it then switches to closed as we approach.  Josh says we should try to get on. 

I ask the man at the gate if we can board even though we just rebooked. He says if we do,  we will have to wait for our luggage to arrive an hour behind us.   Nope.  We go on to the gate for the next flight.

The next couple of hours are pretty uneventful,  thank goodness,  and we get to DC only about 45 minutes later than originally expected.

We go down to the baggage claim,  watch the carrousel run dry,  and then seek out the Delta lost luggage claim desk.

There is our stuff!  It came in on the earlier flight. That we could probably have gotten on. Had anyone anywhere known anything. 

We put our receipts (made sure to get some this time.)  on the counter, skip the line, and grab our bags. 

Ordeal over. 

Thanks, Delta. 

I think you will be keeping my sky miles as a memento to remind you of me in my upcoming absence.