Saturday, December 06, 2003
I should tell you about my flight from London to Chicago on Wednesday. When I got to Heathrow, as I was approaching the United check-in counter, a young man told me I had been selected for a random luggage security check. Okay, no problem. We walk over to his little table and he carefully does his job. He then escorts me and my suitcase (I only had one) to the check-in counter. My suitcase was carefully stowed in a little roped off area in front of the check-in counter and another security person was standing there watching the luggage of all us "specially selected" people, I guess to make sure we don't sneak anything into the suitcase after they looked through it. My turn comes to be checked in, and the agent tells me that there is a problem with my e-ticket and that I have to go to the ticket counter. Being a very nice check-in agent, she escorts me to the ticket counter and explains the problem to the ticket-counter agent. I am now at her mercy. First, I am told that I didn't show up for my flight on 20 November. "Yes, ma'am, you are correct. I didn't show up on the 20th of November because my reservation is for the 3rd of December" (our 20th wedding anniversary, for those who care). Siemens' new travel agency had exchanged a ticket for me, but apparently did something wrong in the process. And, according to the (eventually - this took longer than it sounds) four people assembled behind the ticket counter offering suggestions and opinions, the problem could only be corrected in the United States. Of course, it is o-dark-thirty in the United States, and our full service travel agency (who didn't impress me much in the first place) isn't open. And, with all the help I'd been receiving all morning, it was now 40 minutes before the plane was scheduled to depart. It can take 40 minutes to get through security at Heathrow on a good day, and I haven't even checked in for the flight. Come to think of it, I don't even have a ticket! So, I bought a new ticket, and the ticket-counter agent checked me in to the flight. "Sir, do you have any luggage?" "Yes, one bag over in the security area." Being a very nice ticket-counter agent, she escorted me back to the check-in counter security-screened luggage area. My carefully screened suitcase isn't there. The security person is still standing there, still very carefully watching all of the luggage for the "specially selected" people, but my bag has carefully disappeared. After searching around a bit, the security person pointed to another bag and mentioned it had been in the area for quite some time, could it possibly be mine? Not unless someone traded with me without my knowledge. But, ticket-counter agent (who is not only nice but also helpful and intelligent) goes over to the suitcase and says "Maureen Harris." So, we get the check-in counter agent to look up Maurine Harris in the computer. Maureen is (unfortunately) not on a flight to Chicago, but on a flight to New York. Fortunately, a flight that hasn't left yet. And, she has checked in two bags. How could that be? One of her bags is still in the security-screened luggage area. It is now 30 minutes before the plane leaves. So, the very nice, intelligent, helpful ticket-counter agent (who is away from her ticket counter) tells me to rush to the gate and speak to the gate agent. She will call ahead and explain the situation. In the meantime, they will stop Maureen's bags from getting on her flight, figure out which one is mine, and try to get it on my plane.
So, off I go. Happy. Pleased to have been selected for a random security check. Glad to know our new travel agency is on top of canceling and issuing tickets. Grateful that airline security is so well managed that it is extremely unlikely for a person to check in someone else's luggage as their own. And, knowing that the probability of all this happening on the same morning to one person is statistically impossible.
I managed to get through security and to the gate while they were still letting the last stragglers on to the plane. Only, I couldn't get on; I had to talk to the gate agent. Who hadn't received a call from ticket-counter agent. But, as I was explaining the situation to someone who was obviously not buying my story, the call came through. "Sir, please have a seat there. They are bringing a bag to the gate and would like for you to ID the bag." By now, all passengers are on the plane except me. Finally, they offer to take me down to the tarmac to speed up the bag ID process when/if it finally arrives. So, we are chilling at the bottom of the stairs, watching all the little service vehicles pull away from the airplane one at a time. There is finally one crew and one conveyor left, also waiting for my bag. So, a little vehicle arrives with one bag on it. Yes, that is my bag. They handwrite a claim ticket for the bag (will they honor a handwritten ticket in Chicago? 'Cause, the way things are going, my bag is somehow going to get lost between Heathrow and O'Hare, even though it is a direct flight). So, my bag and I get on the plane only a few minutes after the scheduled departure time. No one on the plane glares at me. The plane is mostly empty -- I share a row of five seats with one other person. Things are looking up. And, except for the hour we spent in the jet-wash of a 747 that made our plane bounce around like Mexican jumping bean, it wasn't a bad flight.
I bet Maureen Harris, from Australia, has no idea how close she came to arriving in New York with my suitcase. And how close I came to calling it a fair trade and going to Chicago with hers!
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So, off I go. Happy. Pleased to have been selected for a random security check. Glad to know our new travel agency is on top of canceling and issuing tickets. Grateful that airline security is so well managed that it is extremely unlikely for a person to check in someone else's luggage as their own. And, knowing that the probability of all this happening on the same morning to one person is statistically impossible.
I managed to get through security and to the gate while they were still letting the last stragglers on to the plane. Only, I couldn't get on; I had to talk to the gate agent. Who hadn't received a call from ticket-counter agent. But, as I was explaining the situation to someone who was obviously not buying my story, the call came through. "Sir, please have a seat there. They are bringing a bag to the gate and would like for you to ID the bag." By now, all passengers are on the plane except me. Finally, they offer to take me down to the tarmac to speed up the bag ID process when/if it finally arrives. So, we are chilling at the bottom of the stairs, watching all the little service vehicles pull away from the airplane one at a time. There is finally one crew and one conveyor left, also waiting for my bag. So, a little vehicle arrives with one bag on it. Yes, that is my bag. They handwrite a claim ticket for the bag (will they honor a handwritten ticket in Chicago? 'Cause, the way things are going, my bag is somehow going to get lost between Heathrow and O'Hare, even though it is a direct flight). So, my bag and I get on the plane only a few minutes after the scheduled departure time. No one on the plane glares at me. The plane is mostly empty -- I share a row of five seats with one other person. Things are looking up. And, except for the hour we spent in the jet-wash of a 747 that made our plane bounce around like Mexican jumping bean, it wasn't a bad flight.
I bet Maureen Harris, from Australia, has no idea how close she came to arriving in New York with my suitcase. And how close I came to calling it a fair trade and going to Chicago with hers!
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