Book Him To Colombia To Spite Him

(I am at Washington Dulles airport, and I have just missed a connection. I head to the customer service desk for my airline. I am the only one currently there, and there are five or six women behind the counter. I approach the one who actually makes eye contact with me, and begin the process of rebooking onto the next flight. While [Representative #1] is helping me with this, a man comes rushing up to her and starts shouting.)

Passenger: “I need to get on that plane!”

(One of the other ladies behind the counter tries to get his attention.)

Representative #2: “Which plane?”

Passenger: *still to [Representative #1]* “The one out there going to Columbia!”

Representative #2: “The cabin door has already closed on that plane. We cannot have it reopened. I can reb—”

Passenger: *finally to her, rather than the lady who is still rebooking me* “No! I need to be on that plane!“

Representative #2: “You can go to the gate and ask for a manager, but I doubt—”

(He walks away before she can finish, and [Representative #1] has to switch to another computer, because hers freezes up, so it takesa little more time. As she’s finally printing my tickets, the man comes back, all red-faced and angry. He actually starts going behind the counter where the ladies are all working.)

Representative #1: *losing her cool for the first time* “Sir! You are not to come back here behind the customer service desk!”

Passenger: “They won’t open the doors! I need—”

Representative #1: “You need to go back around this desk, or I will call the police to move you there.”

Passenger: “You and I need to have a little talk about customer service.”

Representative #1: “That’s just fine, as long as it takes place with you on the other side of this desk!”

(She hands me my tickets.)

Representative #1: “GO!”

(I hightailed it out of there, passing security as I did so. Whoever that man was, I’m pretty sure he didn’t make it to Columbia.)