So Tech Support was a no show last night. Stuck in London. It seems our family’s ‘Summer of Travel Disruptions‘ continues unabated. Of course, there was my DFW saga of early July. And then Jeff was trapped in Chicago after a completely avoidable snafu where American Airlines and British Airways played ‘The Right Hand doesn’t know what the Left Hand is doing’ roulette, including sending his Seattle bound bag to Mexico City for a 3 day vacation. You think I’m kidding? I’m not. But at least they put him up in a hotel.
So when he called me and told me that his flight was taking off 3 hours late from Phoenix I was skeptical that he would make it home on time. He assured me that they had assured him that he was being rebooked, although they couldn’t tell him what those flight details were until he got to Heathrow. Not a good sign.
All was not lost though because he got the upgraded seat to a giant pod complete with 4 personal windows for his viewing pleasure as he crossed the Atlantic. And a storage credenza that could hold more than el Compartemiento. It wasn’t rough flying. He slept for 8 hours straight and they woke him up upon landing. No Janice in sight.
Fast forward to Heathrow. Poor Baby, Jeff might have made his original connection but for a Middle Eastern Prince and his entourage that were in the same class he was in. The black clad body guards, complete with ear pieces and sunglasses, wouldn’t let him pass them in the jet-way so he could run through the airport like a Hertz rental car commercial. As I heard him complain I had little sympathy.
‘You’re flying in your own cabin with princes with body guards. After you’ve slept on the floor of Heathrow we can talk.’
‘Well the upside is that I realize I need ‘Staff’. People who just handle stuff for me and keep others out of my orbit.’
I thought that was my job. Eye roll. Who booked his flights? Oh Yeah.
He had to stand in line with the riff raff – heavy sigh – to find out what BA was going to do for him. They chastised him for being late (totally their fault). And for missing his first flight and the connection they had rebooked him on, but didn’t tell him about. Then they insisted he give them his boarding pass to those flights that he was never given in Phoenix because they knew they wouldn’t be any good. He called me furious.
‘The woman was rude and ridiculous. I think there is a special place in Brexit hell for her. So I’m staying here. They gave me vouchers for a hotel, shuttle, food and the like. Again. Ugh.’
I could hardly contain my pity for him. I had barely gotten Doritos and a single bottle of water. I’d had to align myself with strangers to ensure the safety of my personal possessions. It was Mad Max. El Jefe had a £50 dinner voucher and would be sleeping in actual bedding. With access to a shower!
But that doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed. I was looking forward to seeing him last night after 3 weeks apart. We’ve actually only seen each other for 3 days out of the last 7 weeks. And then he sent me this photo via WhatsApp and I’m not so sure anymore.
‘I couldn’t take advantage of the breakfast at the hotel because I had to head to the airport to get through security. So I’m just lounging here until my flight takes off at 8:30😢.’
He does love to rub it in. But you know what? Next time they offer that upgrade at the gate to Business/First Class my frugal self is going to snag it. Even if I have to sell the Louboutins in my carry on like a fish monger. Yes, it will be my turn to play the princess – sans the body guards. And I can do Princess with the best of them.
Viva Espana 