Who knew I would be starting a new Thanksgiving tradition?
It all started last year when I was working at Bank of America. My boss wouldn’t let me have any time off around Thanksgiving, not the day before, and definitely not the day after. Determined to have the family together for Turkey Day, my dad flew me home for less than 24 hours so that I could partake in the eat-a-thon. Now this might not sound that bad, I know. Big deal, you didn’t get to see your family for very long for Thanksgiving, boo-hoo. However, the day of my flight (something my boss new of for weeks in advance) I was not allowed to leave work more than two hours early. I worked downtown in Union Square, it takes at least an hour to get to the airport from there and being the day before a major holiday, it’s usually understood that the airport will be a zoo. As my work day went on, the amount of time I was allowed to get to the airport became shorter and shorter until she only gave me an hour to get to SFO. By the time I was counting out my drawer I was shaking with anxiety, on the verge of tears with less than an hour before my flight. I grabbed my bag and was literally running down Powell St. I ended up with bruises on my hips from running with my heavy, heavy bag.
By the time I got onto BART and sat down I thought I was going to start losing my hair from stress and I had to put on my sunglasses to hide the tears that were slowly making their way down my cheeks. All I could do was keep praying that I would make my flight.
I got to the airport 10 minutes before my flight was to leave, checked in and ran to the security check. Unfortunately, I still had my “bro beater” on my key chain (something I had gotten through security check with before) and was detained by an obese asshole who refused to let me go until I admitted that I was in fact carrying a weapon, which was something I refused to do. It was a no-win situation. The ass finally let me go (without my bro beater); I grabbed my stuff and sprinted to the terminal where they were apparently holding the plane for me after seeing that I had checked in electronically. I was crying, thanking and apologizing to every flight attendant I saw as I made my way to my seat. I sat down, buckled up and was immediately taxiing down the runway.
Needless to say, I quit Bank of America as soon as I got back into the city for fear of the same thing happening for Christmas (among other things).
This year I was positive nothing would go wrong. I mean, sure I had to lug my suitcase around in the rain, but I enjoy the rain anyway, so no biggie. I got to the airport in a timely matter and went to check in. Having never flown with United, I had no idea that they charged you extra to check in one bag. I didn’t have my debit card, they didn’t take American Express and the only thing I had was cash. Since the machine didn’t take cash I was directed to another line, a long one. There were two attdendants helping at the counter, not nearly enough for the line that was forming. When I got up and explained my situation to the very disconcerted attendant she informed me that I was too late and they were no longer checking bags for my flight. Apparently there’s a 45 minute cut-off and I was 10 minutes late. She gave me no other options and dismissed me from her counter.
I had no clue as to what to do and started to panic. I called my parents who also weren’t entirely sure about what I should do. My dad suggested putting my suitcase in a locker and just getting on the flight or just trying to take the thing on the plane, which wasn’t really an option because it’s just barely over the carry on size limit. It was decided that I needed to go and ” raise fucking hell and make a scene”. I was already starting to cry, feeling defeated and thinking that I was going to have to go back home, and since I’m usually not one to go and raise a stink about something, I was hoping the tears and runny mascara would work. I went to the nearest attendant, who upon seeing my tear-streaked face and hearing my situation went right to work to make it all better. Unfortunately, they still wouldn’t take my suitcase and all other flights to San Diego were booked. Orange county was booked too and my next option was LAX, which is where I ended up. My new flight was supposed to leave 40 minutes after my San Diego flight, which wasn’t bad, but once I got to the gate I learned there was an hour delay. Lame. It took my sister longer to drive to LA to pick me up than it did for me to fly there. I started my journey to Vista at 12pm and didn’t make it to my parents house until almost 8pm.
Again, needless to say, I’ll never fly United again. So what am I thankful for this year? Once again making it to Vista to see my family for Thanksgiving by the skin of my teeth. Let’s hope there’s not a repeat next year…
goodnight, rose 