Earning Air-Smiles

, , , | Working | March 11, 2018

(This happens on a flight out of Chicago with my father on [Airline]. The flight has already been delayed for several hours due to weather, and then was delayed another two hours because they gave incorrect info to the flight crew. Needless to say, nobody, crew included, is happy about this, with the exception on one young girl, maybe three years old, who is flying for the first time. As we board, this conversation happens:)

Stewardess: *looking at child* “Oh, that’s a big smile; you must be happy to be flying!”

My Father: *after the girl has passed* “You have to love them at that age, just so happy all the time.”

Stewardess: “Yeah, they haven’t flown [Airline] too often yet.”

Oh, Brother!

, , , , , | Right | March 8, 2018

(This takes place back in 80s before I am born. My mum is saying goodbye to her boyfriend at an airport. They are passionately kissing, with my mum straddled across his lap; they can barely take their hands off each other and they are being rather public about it. Eventually, they pull themselves apart and she goes to the check-in to get on the plane. In her defence, my mum has always had a wicked sense of humour.)

Air Hostess: *while at boarding gate* “Aw, saying goodbye to a loved one?”

Mum: “Yeah, that was my brother.”

Air Hostess: *literally jumps and stares at my mum in horror*

(Mum says she hopes one day that hostess realised she was joking.)

No, But Does Trump Tower Count?

, , , , | Right | March 2, 2018

(I work at Dulles Airport, about 45 minutes from Washington, DC, but close enough to still be considered part of the “DC Area,” which tends to confuse people. My second job there is as a retail associate, and two people asked me the same question in two consecutive days.)

Passenger: “Hi! Is there a window where I can look out and see the White House?”

Book Him To Colombia To Spite Him

, , , , , | Right | February 4, 2018

(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.)

Making Things Wheely Hard For Himself

, , , , , , , , | Working | February 4, 2018

I use a wheelchair to travel, and most airports believe me when I say that I can push myself.

But this employee…

He refused to let me push myself, wouldn’t leave when I asked him to, complained in German — thinking I only spoke English — that he had to wait around for me, and arranged my taxi without even once asking me anything. He even had a sarcastic, “I’m sure you can push yourself, sweetie,” response, and referred to another wheelie passenger and me as “zwei Stück,” meaning “two pieces,” as if we were luggage.

Maybe if he bothered to listen to me, he would have realized that I’m fluent in German and that I decided to file a complaint.

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