I came across this article on http://www.time.com/, and I was just appalled. The long and short of it is that U.S. Airlines collected a whopping $3.4 BILLION in bag fees last year. Right. You heard me. Three. Point. Four. Billion. Dollars. That sounds like a scene from an Austin Powers movie, right? Unfortunately, the airline business appears to have become the nation's own personal Dr. Evil, with Delta leading the pack.
"Delta generated the most revenue from bag fees — $952 million — followed by the combined United and Continental at nearly $655 million. American collected $580 million and US Airways $513 million."
...$952 million? Really?! And perhaps I failed to mention that the total amount collected ($3.4B) marked a twenty-four percent increase in profits from 2009. A 24% increase? I thought we were in a recession! I think you'd be hard pressed to find another industry that can report an increase in profits - much less an increase as significant as 24%. It's just ridiculous. Meanwhile, the airlines are crying broke mouth and complaining about the rise in fuel costs. Hold on, let me put down my violin so I can get the message across. Everyone is struggling with rising fuel costs. It costs me $70+ to fill up my gas tank. We get it. But hiking up the prices on airline tickets wasn't enough? Travelers paying twice the price for fares didn't cushion the blow even just a little bit? I guess not.
This prompted me to really think about what other changes the airlines have made to compensate for the rising costs of the industry. It's time for a flight down memory lane...
Remember when . . .
...your frequent flyer miles actually counted for something? Yeah, you can absolutely still trade in your miles for a flight . . . but no guarantees that the flight will even have "frequent flyer seats" available. Unless you are trying to fly to Minnesota or Maine in the dead of winter (but not during inclement weather, because then you would inevitably be stuck at an airport for a week - if you think the airline is going to foot the bill for a delay due to an act of God . . . think again). Yeah, that's right...just like the time share tours that offer you a free vacation, there are definite scheduling limitations as to what dates you are allowed to travel. Big surprise, those dates are hardly ever convenient to any traveling that you may want to do, nor do they ever fall on a holiday.
...there was a complimentary pillow/blanket set waiting for you at your seat? I mean sure, of course you were scared to use them because they were probably carrying some form of the Gon'die (which implies that if you get it, you gon' die) . . . but at least the choice was yours. You could rest your weary head or choose to pass on the germy cesspools and possible exposure to the Ebola Virus or some random flesh-eating bacteria. Again - your choice. Because they were there waiting for you. Like the little complimentary bottles of shampoo and conditioner at a nice hotel . . . just there if you need 'em.
...airlines fed you during your flight? Yeah, the food was garbage and smelled like rotten baby vomit on a hot summer's day...but at least you got food. Granted, the smell of airplane food almost always made me reach for my complimentary puke pouch (Do they still offer those? Probably for a small fee, eh?), so this is probably the least of my concerns . . . but it's the principle. The hubs and I flew to Hawaii for our honeymoon, which is about a 12 hour trip from the Sunshine State. Don't be alarmed, Continental did feed us; HOWEVER, they fed us a microwaved "chicken sandwich" that made my elementary school cafeteria food look like gourmet, five-star cuisine. No joke, they served it to us still in the bag they microwaved it in. Oh yeah, and I'm pretty sure we got a bag of chips, too. It was super classy. Needless to say, I skipped the worthless calories and sodium and starved myself all the way to Hawaii. So, that was awesome.
...airplanes had a little bit of legroom? Ok, it's not like you could cut cartwheels in between the seats, but people could actually fit their entire person into the seat without having to either (a) hang their legs into the aisle to avoid knee-jacking the person in front of them, or (b) fold themselves into unnatural positions to try to politely keep from accidentally fondling the strangers surrounding them. My favorite aspect of the lack of legroom is during landing when my knees SLAM into the seat in front of me. I'm convinced that my kneecaps will one day shatter on impact and then at least I could skip the line for free in my wheelchair. The seats are so close together now, that I could very clearly spot the older, gay gentleman (I use the term loosely) a few rows up, creeping on young, adolescent boys on his iPad the last time I traveled. True story. He must have felt my shocked and dismayed eyes piercing his perverted soul, because he glanced around casually, spotted me spotting him, and quickly returned his portable perving device to its rightful home in his murse.
...you could actually make your way down the main aisle to your seat without inadvertantly setting your ass on some unsuspecting stranger's shoulder? I'm pretty small, and I can't seem to ever get to my seat anymore with having to apologize profusely to numerous people for booty bumping them in the face. How do bigger people do it? Especially the ones that already have to buy two seats. Speaking of which, has that rule always existed? Or just since the airlines switched out the old, quasi-normal-sized seats out for anorexic midget seats? I wonder about that.
...the overhead bins were large enough to fit all of the carry-on bags of the passengers on the plane? I can't decide if the bins themselves have actually gotten smaller (along with the aisles, the seats, the sodas, and the amount of legroom), or if people have just started cramming as much junk as possible into their carry-ons in an effort to avoid those ridiculously over-priced baggage fees. Good news is, I've discovered that they don't charge you when you have to gate check your bag because there isn't sufficient room in the overhead bins. Don't tell anyone; it'll be our little secret.
I could go on and on. Travel, overall, has become just a huge violation. Your wallet gets violated when you purchase your ticket. The airline comes back for some more wallet sodomy when you check your bag (unless you fly Southworst, of course). Then there's the double (if you're lucky, like me) violation/molestation at the security checkpoint (I'm confident that Wanda, the lovely TSA agent who blessed me with a very thorough pat down and I are now going steady), and the long string of blatant violations that follow. I miss the good ol' days when traveling was an experience, rather than a chore (a chore accompanied by an unsolicited manhandling of the semi-sexual nature). Maybe if the airlines make another several billion dollar profit off of us poor economy class peons this year, we'll begin to see some sort of improvement that would make flying a more enjoyable investment . . . but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Toto, I Don't Think We're at the Ritz Anymore...
As I mentioned before, I love staying in hotels. It's such a great escape from the monotony of every day life. You can leave all of the lights on as long as you want, run the water as long as you want (as long as you're not concerned with the environment, that is), set the A/C to the arctic freeze setting, room service, housekeeping, spa...what's not to like? What's funny to me is how standards change as you get older. When I was in college, I would stay in pretty much any kind of halfway-decent hotel. Now that I’m a grown up…my taste has become a tad bit more discriminating, to say the least. I’m not saying I always have to stay at a four star/diamond hotel…but I would, if I could. Not because I’m a complete hotel snob (although I do absolutely draw the line at hotels with outdoor entry; I’m convinced that those are actually motels), per se...but those places really are nicer. It isn’t just me. I mean, for those of you who haven’t stayed at the Ritz, Loewe’s, Waldorf-Astoria, or some equivalent hotel…you should. It’s almost worth the exorbitant amount of money.
There are a few key differences that I noticed during my last business trip. So that you indeed DO know what you’re missing, I have created a handy, dandy reference sheet:
5 Ways to Know That You Are NOT at the Ritz:
1. The carpet has a curious, technicolor pattern, reminiscent of the 70's...or a cheap Vegas hotel...or a tacky cruise ship.
2. Instead of a $10 bottle of Evian/Fiji, there is a free bottle of generic water - not necessarily a bad thing.
3. The guest robe is dusty.
4. You have to call housekeeping to please come change your sheets because the current sheets on your bed are suspiciously not tucked in at one corner (as if mussed during sleep by the previous guest, who must have been a wild sleeper).
5. Instead of charging you for wireless internet, they charge you (or your company) $10-15 for internet...and then nonchalantly explain that you'll have to plug the provided ETHERNET CABLE into your laptop. I mean, really? Who still actually has to plug in to use the internet (besides my parents)??
There. Now if you are traveling and your hotel meets the above criteria…nope, it’s definitely NOT the Ritz, or any other “luxury” hotel. Perhaps you should click your heels together three times in hopes that you’ll end up in a hotel with gilded faucets and water pressure above a gentle stream...good luck with that.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
The Joys of Flying with Southworst Airlines
Am I the only person who hates flying Southwest (or as I like to call them, Southworst)?
I mean, they reel you in with their promises of cheaper airfare and bags flying for free…but does anyone really like flying Southworst? I know I don’t. The best comparison that I can think of is that flying Southworst is like being on a Greyhound bus…with wings…and more expensive tickets. I think; I can’t honestly say that I’ve ever ridden the Greyhound. But I imagine it is very similar.
As much as I hate flying Southworst, I often find myself doing so anyway because of the cheap fares. With the price of gas and airplane tickets rapidly rising, sometimes a girl has got to do what she has got to do; especially when that girl has a tendency towards procrastination. Such is the case for this weekend’s trip.
This morning, I had the privilege of being in boarding group B, so I just patiently waited until it was my group’s turn to join the line. As long as I’m in my section, I’m not going to nickel and dime the other people about what specific boarding position they have. The sections are divided into increments of five. What’s the worst that could happen; you end up behind the other four people in your section, instead of ahead of them? BFD. I always chuckle a little when I see people comparing boarding passes and then one proclaiming victoriously, “Oh, I’m ahead of you.” Congratulations! You get to board the plane one step ahead of me. I bet that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
After making it through the boarding line, it was on to the long trek through the gate tunnel, whichof course, was not climate controlled. They never are! Why is that? All of those people crowding in those tunnels, breathing their hot breath and coughing and sneezing their germs around, plus a lack of air circulation, like always, added up to a major fit of nausea for me. I might add, the people in those tunnels should adhere to the second commandment of elevator etiquette. If I can feel your aforementioned hot ass breath on any part of my body; you are too close. Back it up and wait your turn. There’s not much more annoying than strangers standing so close that they can step on the back of your shoes.
I made it through all of the typical trials relatively unscathed, but just as I was about to mentally congratulate myself on maintaining my cool and not totally panicking with all of the bs going on around me, I stepped onto the plane and right into a guerilla assault on my olfactory senses. Awesome. Someone was nice enough to wait to take a shit until after they boarded the plane. Apparently the airport bathroom was not good enough; this thoughtful individual held their bowels (in order to claim their rightful place in the boarding line pecking order, no doubt) until they got to the already cramped airplane latrine with the recycled air ventilation system. SO rude.
Trying to escape the noxious fumes (and to choke back the overwhelming urge to vomit), I ran down the frustratingly narrow aisle, bumping countless sets of knees in my mad dash for a breath of fresh air. I looked around frantically, searching for a sign that I was not the only person who smelled death looming. Oddly enough, no one else seemed fazed, with the exception of the woman who was vigorously splashing herself with her purse-sized body splash. I’m pretty sure she was mumbling something to the effect of “Calgon, take me away.”
Needless to say, I plopped myself into the seat next to her and gratefully inhaled the lingering remnants of her delightful apple scent. So, to the woman sitting next to me in 8D on Southworst Flight #1305 to LAS, I thank you.
TSA – Short for This Sucks Ass?
I am flying to Las Vegas this weekend for a quick trip, so today’s theme will be travel. As much as I love to travel, the actual physical act of traveling to my destination of choice always leaves something to be desired. There’s the inevitable hike to the airport (Have you noticed that nobody ever really lives close to the airport? Logical, but not quite convenient.); the cluster you-know-what of trying to find the least expensive off-site parking lot with the cleanest looking shuttle buses; standing in line for ticketing/baggage check; and the crown jewel of traveling after 2001, what really makes traveling a good, strong, fist in the ass, is airport security.
Now don’t get me wrong; I applaud TSA for putting up with people constantly bitching and moaning and not being intelligent enough to figure out by now that yes, they have to take their shoes off, and yes, their watches must also come off, and yes, like the multiple signs say, their laptops and all liquid items need to come out of their bags. That must be annoying. I also am happy to comply with a quick screening and x-ray of my bags, if it means that I can rest assured that I will arrive at my destination safely. But is it too much to ask to make it through the security checkpoint with a modicum of dignity?
With the new giant x-ray machine/body scanner things they’ve got at most major airports nowadays, airplane travel has turned into somewhat of a nightmare. But apparently the body scan isn’t enough, because this morning, I definitely was subjected to not only a scan of my hot bod, but a glorious rubdown from TSA’s typical classy female employee…even though I purposely wore leggings so it would be quite apparent that I have nothing to hide. The experience was much like being on a terrible blind date that you can’t get out of with a random someone of the same sex that you picked up off of the side of the road (in the wrong neighborhood) that ends with a half-assed feel up and no happy ending. This obviously made my day.
To break the ice, I casually commented, “I’d have to be pretty talented if I could fit anything else into these leggings, don’t you think?” (Not to mention, I already had to stand in the pervert portal and raise my hands above my head for the full screen. Remember when that happened? You know, 1.5 minutes ago? If I did have anything hidden; it’s a little disconcerting that it didn’t show up on that scan. That seems a little pointless, no?)
She laughed, “That’s what I was thinking.”
Well, if that’s what you were thinking, maybe you should go with that thought and let me continue on my merry way instead of rubbing me firmly up and down both of my legs, brushing teasingly against my crotch as if we’re experimental college girlfriends. I didn’t have friends like that then, and I don’t now; back off, lady. Let me pick my dignity up off the floor and move on with my life. Thanks, TSA.
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