Right Working Romantic Related Learning Friendly Healthy Legal Inspirational Unfiltered

The Fuel Required For A New York Minute

, , , , | Right | November 2, 2021

My wife and our two teenage sons have just finished a two-week road trip in a rented RV around Virginia. We are ending our trip to the States in New York for five days.

On our first morning there, we manage to find a diner that does a huge breakfast, which the boys clearly enjoy. Being British, we are unaware of “bottomless coffee” and the waiter keeps my cup filled nicely.

Eventually, after the third refill, I say to him:

Me: “No more, please. Any more and I’ll be completely wired.”

Waiter: “Man, it’s New York. You need to be wired.”

Me: “Sounds good. More coffee, please.”

You Catch More Flights With Honey Than Vinegar

, , , , | Right | October 21, 2021

I’m in my final year of university. My boyfriend and I are in a long-distance relationship; he lives on the British Columbia coast while I am in southern Alberta.

During spring break, I decide to book a plane trip out to spend the week with him. As it is a short trip, I want to have as much time with him as possible; therefore, I am looking for an early flight. Due to previous problems with other airlines, I don’t like to book with anyone except a specific airline.

I notice that their 10:00 am flight is quite expensive, around $200 one way. Not happy with that, I keep looking and am quite pleased to find a much cheaper flight, about $100 one way, for a 9:00 am flight! Wanting to scoop that deal up before the prices change, I book my flight with a one-way ticket, thinking I might be able to get a better deal booking my tickets separately rather than together.

A small part of my gut is telling me there is something fishy about that 9:00 am flight I found that is cheaper than the 10:00 am. Stupidly, I push that down and instead just look forward to my trip.

The night before my flight, I find I’m not able to check in. I find this strange, but again, I push it aside and strive to just check in with an agent instead at the airport. The next morning:

Me: “Hi, I’m having trouble checking in for my flight. Would you be able to help me? I’m not sure what’s wrong. I’m due to fly out in about an hour.”

Agent: “Sure, no problem. What’s your name?”

I tell the agent, and the agent types it into her computer and frowns at her screen.

Agent: “Hmm, that seems to be a bit strange. I’m not sure why you’re having trouble checking in. Let me look a bit further.”

I’m slightly worried. I booked through a third-party website to try and find the best deals on flights, and now I’m concerned that I was not properly registered for this flight. After a couple minutes, I see the agent’s eyes widen in realization and fear. As she turns to me, I can practically see her trying to curl in on herself.

Agent: “I found the problem. You’re not scheduled for a 9:00 am flight this morning; you’re scheduled for a 9:00 pm flight tonight.”

Suddenly, the cheaper flight makes sense and my heart drops into my stomach. The agent is leaning as far away from me as she can get, clearly prepared for the explosion of rage she thinks is coming her way.

I let out a string of expletives under my breath as I look away from her so she doesn’t think I am directing them at her. It isn’t HER fault after all but mine for not reading the times properly. Once I compose myself, I turn back to her.

Me: “Okay, well, I don’t really want to wait until 9:00 pm tonight and lose a whole day with my boyfriend. Is there anything I can do to fix this?”

The agent looks a little relieved but still apprehensive.

Agent: “Well, I can bump you to the 10:00 am flight, but there will be a fee of $150 to do that.”

I whisper more expletives to myself. As a student, money is tight, and this trip is already pushing it for me.

Agent: “Or you could call [Third-Party Website] to see if you would be able to change your flight through them?”

I realize I will have to bite the bullet for this and hope they will be able to accept a different credit card from the one on file.

Me: “No, I don’t know how long that would take, and I don’t want to miss the 10:00 am flight. I’ll just pay the fee and move to that one, please.”

The agent nods and glances back to her computer, typing information and making the changes I’ve requested. In the meantime, I’m digging in my purse to pull out my wallet and the card I want to use. As I glance up, my card in hand, the agent is holding my boarding pass out to me.

Me: “Wait, what about the fee?”

Agent: “I waived it this time, but please be sure to be more careful in the future.”

Me: *Nearly in tears* “Thank you! Thank you so much! I promise I will!”

I accepted the boarding pass and scurried off to security. As I promised that agent, I’ve never made that mistake again and my boyfriend and I are now happily living together.

The Passenger Has Totally Checked Out

, , , , , | Right | October 20, 2021

I am waiting to board a flight when we receive word that it has been cancelled due to fog in the other city — not an uncommon thing to happen. Everyone lines up at the desk to get rebooked onto different flights. I’m waiting my turn when I see this gem of an interaction.

Flight Attendant: “All right, you have now been rebooked on [new flight number]. Do you have checked luggage?”

Passenger: “Yes.”

Flight Attendant: “Great. You will need to collect it from Carousel 2 and take it back to the desks to be checked in for your new flight.”

Passenger: “But it’s already been checked in.”

Flight Attendant: “Pardon?”

Passenger: “It’s been checked in. I did that about an hour ago.”

Flight Attendant: “Yes, for your cancelled flight. But you need to check it in for your new flight.”

Passenger: “You don’t understand. The luggage has been checked in already. That’s done.”

Flight Attendant: “For which flight?”

Passenger: “[Old flight number], duh.”

Flight Attendant: “The flight that got cancelled.”

Passenger: “Yeah.”

Flight Attendant: “But you’re now on a new flight.”

Passenger: “Yeah.”

Flight Attendant: “Which means you need to check your luggage on your new flight.”

Passenger: *Pauses* “I don’t get it.”

The poor flight attendant must have gone through the whole conversation four times, doing everything except pulling out finger puppets to convince the traveller to check his luggage. He finally left, still looking confused, and I was able to rebook my own flight. The flight attendant looked very relieved when I assured her that I only had a carry-on.

It Really Is A Small World After All

, , , | Romantic | October 1, 2021

My husband and I jokingly say that we encounter people from the town we grew up in everywhere we go. We now live twenty kilometers from that town. For instance, we met my father on a stretch of road fifty meters long on the other side of the country when we both didn’t know we would be there. We also encountered my parents-in-law when we were out cycling one day on a road close to us, where my parents-in-law had never been before, and they had no idea we would be there.

When we go to an island for our holiday, the first person we meet is our former neighbour from [Town]. A few days later, we are out walking in the dunes, on a path where clearly not many people go. From a distance, I spot a brightly coloured stone. It’s been painted and it’s a Happy Stone (which can be taken away and left somewhere else). I go and grab it. It’s beautiful and I’m really happy with it. I turn it over and read, “Happy Stones [Town].”

I can’t help but laugh out loud about it.

Me: “[Husband], remember how we always say we find people from [Town] everywhere?”

Husband: “Yes?”

Me: “Look!”

He found it just as funny as I did.

Dealing With American Tourists Is Always A Gamble 

, , , , , , | Right | October 1, 2021

The big Victorian-era seaside town I grew up in draws tourists from the UK and abroad. There was a massive building on the seafront that was a bit of an eyesore. It had little independently owned shops at the very bottom that were accessible from the promenade and an arcade — not a games arcade but a penny machine arcade which was essentially gambling for kids — on the town level.

When I was fourteen, the whole building burnt down when one of the independent store owners attempted an insurance scam.

The company asked for our opinion as to whether or not they should rebuild it for everyone over the age of twelve, and the answer was overwhelmingly no. I also put no. They ignored us and built a really ugly glass and metal modern building that didn’t suit the Victorian town.

Two years later, I’m working in a tourist attraction that’s in the village next to the town. It’s the summer and it’s just gone from glorious sunshine to a rainstorm — normal for England in summer. This usually means people from the town end up in the building, as it’s got a very large tearoom, so we get busy.

I’m working in the tourist information desk when a very grumpy man comes in and pretty much charges up to the desk, yelling at me in a strong American accent.

Tourist: “How long is this rain gonna last for?!”

Me: *Taken aback by the yelling* “Er, could be five minutes, could be five days?”

Tourist: “Five days?! Is it that bad?! Does it always rain in England?”

Some random Scottish older lady who is checking out the leaflets chimes in.

Scottish Lady: “Yup, but not as much as Scotland.”

The tourist stares at her, realising he’s not going to get anywhere complaining about the weather. He stays stood there and seems to clock I’m at the information desk. He leans down toward me all conspiracy-theory-like, ready for his next complaint.

Tourist: “You know, there’s a gambling place for kids.”

Me: *Thrown by the change* “I’m sorry?”

Tourist:Gambling. For kids!

Me: “The penny arcade?”

Tourist: “It’s gambling.

Me: “It’s got a cap of £5 per day, and you have to get your change from an actual person so they can monitor it.”

Tourist: “Still gambling.

Me: *Pauses* “Okay.”

He looks expectantly at me.

Me: “What about it?”

Tourist: “What are you gonna do about it?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Tourist: “What are you gonna do about it?! You just gonna let them kids gamble?!”

Me: “Sir, I’m sixteen. I can’t really do a lot about it. And they wouldn’t care anyway; the locals told the company we didn’t want them to rebuild it when it burnt down but they rebuilt it anyway.”

Tourist: “Protest to your government!”

Me: “We tried that.”

Tourist: “Get an American to help you; you lot are too reserved! And this place is too wet!

The man strode off to the tearooms, muttering to himself. The random Scottish lady that was now intently staring at the leaflets burst into giggles as soon as he was out of earshot.