As Promised...Why United Air Sucks: Part One

So I took that trip to Kan-Tuh-Kee last week. I have lost all faith in United Airlines.

Why, you ask?

Hold on to your bloomers, ladies and germs. Listen to the saga of

Stranded in Chicago
or How I Got Royally Screwed by United
Part One

by
John Vogt

Monday 16 April, 2007

My flight from Beautiful Boise to Chicago (the windy city and home to Oprah) is delayed by about an hour. No problem, says I, these things happen. I still have enough time to catch my connecting flight to Louisville (Law-vil for those who speak Kentuckese). My flight from Chicago to Louisville is delayed by an hour. Again, no problem. These things happen. I take advantage of the ensuing time by chatting with a full-bird who is just returning from the Green Zone in Baghdad. Finally I end up in Louisville and after what seems like an eternity, waiting for the bags to come, I hop into my 2007 Chevy Malibu from Thrifty and head to the Marriott.

Tuesday 17 April, 2007.

I'm making good time from Fort Knox to Louisville as I speed through the rolling hills. I've stayed a little longer than I should have at Knox with the Soldiers but I should still make it in time. I turn in the rental and glance up at the departures/arrivals screen. Great! The flight is delayed by an hour. Now I don't have to rush and I can change out of my uniform and into some comfy travel clothes. I should still be fine because I had a two hour layover in Chicago (or Sweet Home Chicago as Elwood and Jake Blues called it).

The hour stretches on and soon it is an hour and a half delay. As I chat with LTC Adams via mil-cell, I tell him how I'm a little leery because we are cutting it close on me making my connecting flight. My plane finally arrives and I board it. We take even longer to take off but I'm still confident that i can make the connecting flight. After all, it's one United Flight to another. They can't be that far apart, can they?

We finally land but then get stuck on the runway for a while waiting to pull in the terminal. By the time we finally stark to disembark, I have only 20 minutes left before my plane takes off. No problem, I can make it. My fellow passengers mill off the plane with all the speed of menopausal water buffaloes.

With 15 minutes left I enter the very end of F terminal. I scan the departures/arrival screen and note that I have to get all the way from F to C. For those not in the know, Chicago O'hare is the size of New Hampshire and Rhoad Island. They once held a marathon in just one terminal. Japanese Tourists plan vacations to just see all of O'hare. I begin to book it down the terminal. Up ahead a sign looms that reads, "Shuttle to C". An airport employee tells me that the shuttle has just left. It will be another 6 minutes before it gets back. I can try to walk to F but i will take 15 minutes and I have to go back through security. I decide to wait.

At 10 minutes I realize that I might have a problem. The screen has now said that for the past 10 minutes, they have been boarding my flight. I find the nearest United Desk while keeping an eye out for the shuttle.

"Hi, my flight from Louisville was delayed like two hours and now I'm probably going to just barely miss my connecting flight to Boise. Can you call the people at Gate C32 and have them hold the plane for just a few more minutes?"

"I'm sorry, we don't hold flights" she states, matter of factly.

Now, I know this is a load of crap. I have been on numerous flights where we remain at the terminal for a few extra minutes so someone can catch the flight.

I tell her that if they don't hold it, I will miss it. She seems nonplussed and tells me to head that way anyway for customer service. I see no supervisor or anyone else to talk to so I sulk back to the line for the shuttle.

I note with aggravation that boarding for my flight has ended. Finally, the shuttle comes. I board it with all of the other passengers and scowl as we drive to Terminal C. By the time I get to the end of the Terminal to C32, I have missed my flight by 10 minutes.

I head over to customer service and while in line make a conscious decision to be pleasant. After all, I reason, these poor women probably deal with pissed off customers all day long. It's not their fault that I missed the plane. I explain my situation to a hardened, grouchy women who confirms that there are no more flights to Boise. She hands me a voucher for a hotel and a ticket for tomorrow. No apologies, no "we're sorry for your inconvenience", just a here's your hotel. I ask her if my baggage went to Boise. She tells me no. I ask where I can get it. She informs me that it is being held in security and I can't get it. Great, says I. I leave, less than impressed. While I search the endless stream of streets for my shuttle to the Hyatt. I realize that she has given me no coupons or vouchers for a free dinner or breakfast.

When I get to the Hyatt, I find myself actually a little awed with the sheer size and scale of the hotel. I'm less enthused as I get to my room. It looks like they had gutted the room fro remodels and then when they realized they needed to put some people in for the night they through in what they could find. My gigantic bed is nothing more than a roll-away like what you would get for the kids. It sits one foot off the ground and has wheels. I am longer than it is. on the other side of the room: another roll away and a single small chair. No table. No dresser. No desk. I call the front desk and ask if I can get another room with a bigger bed. They say that they are entirely sold out for the night. I order room service. When it arrives, the guy doesn't know what to do.

"Where should I put it?" he asks.

"Uhh...I guess on the ledge."

I decide to call customer service at United and lodge a Class A gripe. They are closed but would be glad to speak to me during business hours. I'm sure you would, jerky.

Tomorrow, dear readers, Part Two: They lose my baggage.

A Visit with a Hero and Why United Air Sucks

So I paid a visit to Fort Knox this week to visit our wounded soldiers. The time spent at Knox was invaluable. I spent time with SSG M. from B CO. It nearly sent tears to my eyes. M. is a 27 year old Platoon Sergeant from WA. A substantial IED went off under his Cougar. Fortunately, he was the only one seriously injured. Unfortunately, he broke his right leg with a clean snap and broke the left in multiple places. His heel, foot, ankle, and leg were broken. He has screws in there holding it all together. It is not in a cast. When I saw him, he was getting off of the hardcore painkillers for fear of addiction and was in a world of hurt. A nurse came in and began to touch his foot and manipulate it. He was brave and never did cry but his agony was apparent as he groaned and cried out. He was grateful for the pain, he said, because it meant that he could still feel the foot and it meant things were working.

As we talked, I fond out that he had served an LDS mission out there in Kentucky. He found it ironic to be back under these circumstances. His wife had been out for the first few days and I made calls to get her sent back for some more time. He stated that it was getting depressing being cooped up in the room so we decided to get out of there. He was able to maneuver into his wheel chair a lot easier than I would have thought. We made our way downstairs and then outside. The day was beautiful. I sat on a bench and M. positioned his wheel chair along side it. We talked about anything and everything. He told me about how the treatment he received at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany had been pretty bad. Eventually he grew cold and we headed back in. I told him that I would send him some clothes as soon as I got back home. I have met a lot of men in my life but I can honestly say that there at Ireland Hospital, Fort Knox, Kentucky, I met a hero.

I looked up three of our other soldiers that were at Knox in outpatient status. SGT J. had a skin graft and had healed up nicely. He had just returned to Knox after spending time on convalescence leave at home and only had about a week left before he was going to be released. SPC W. had a break in his left leg with screws and rods. He, too had about a week left.

SPC M.,a female, worried me the most. She was there for severe depression and was quite lonely and down. She didn't want to get out of the Army and wasn't happy that she was going to be discharged. She thought her future looked bleak and it seemed to me that she also suffered agoraphobia. She had just returned from 30 days in a mental institute. While there she had broken her foot playing volley ball. She didn't look forward to the next 90 days of evaluations, medical boards and eventual discharge. I suggested she try and find a job there at Knox. In order to keep the patients gainfully employed and not idle, medical hold soldiers who can, find jobs on post. I thought it might be just what she needed. She disagreed and thought that she couldn't deal with people. She just wanted to sleep. I talked to her about the future and college. She didn't think she could handle that unless it was maybe at a very small community or two year college. I did my best to cheer her up and make her laugh but I left with the impression that any cheer I did bring her would be fleeting and short lived. I talked to SGT J. and asked him to look in on her during his last week and to spend some time with her. I worry about SPC M.

Before I made the 45 minute trek back to Louisville I took a few minutes to stop off at my old Basic Training company where I had gone through ROTC Basic Camp at. It looked a little different than how I remembered but did bring back a flood of memories. A Co 1/46th Infantry. There were the phone banks where I had called Shandy from. There was the First Sergeant's office where I had stood twice, being in a little bit of trouble for leaving my laundry in the dryer while we went off to training. The Supply Sergeant took me up to the second floor to my old bay. A few Privates were milling around inside. They said that they were securing some gear before they went off to training. I spotted my old bunk and told the Supply Sergeant how it used to be mine. "Look! That's where Lanear freaked out one night and we had to get the Drill Sergeants in here!" A young Private came up to me and said, "Sir, did you say that that was your bunk?" I said it was back in '96. He stated with a little reverence, "That's my bunk now, sir." I did a quick inspection and straightened the corners of the folds and gave him a nod. The doors opened and a Drill Sergeant walked in.

"WHAT ARE YOU PRIVATES DOING IN HERE?!?!?!"

"Uh,we're getting our gear, Drill Sergeant," they threw out, a little apprehensively.

"Sir, did they call the room to attention when you came in?"

"Negative, Drill Sergeant."

"GET DOWN!!!!!!!!"

I chuckled to myself as I left and walked past the privates busting out the push ups. Things had really come full circle since '96. Back then, I was getting smoked on a regular basis as I made the transition from civilian to Soldier. Now, Privates were getting smoked in the very same bay I used to get smoked in because they didn't call the room to attention when I walked in. Full circle indeed.

Later, I'll regale you with my tale of woe about how United Air Sucks.

For My Adoring Fans...Because You Demanded It

Well, it's official. I have fans. Out of the six posts I have made, I have averaged .6 comments per entry. Demand for my blog is so high that I have 108 views. Only 50 or so are from Shandy and I.

My muses, my masses, my people want, nay, demand that I get down to the nitty-gritty, to rip open my chest and bare my soul.

I will admit, this is different for me. Prior to this, the only baring I did was the occasional mooning of friends or family. I know that Shandy's friend Lynette has an image burned into her mind that she wishes was never there (in my defense, I didn't realize she was there on the beach when I mooned my wife and children from Chris' boat).

There is a side to me, perhaps the natural man that I fight to suppress, that has always gotten a kick out of the occasional mooning. In High School, my buddies and I used to moon fellow classmates from my buddy Craig's Geo Tracker. Once, while en route to a family reunion, my brother, Danny, pulled his '77 Ranchero along side Dad's truck on the freeway. I mooned my father, my mother, my sister, her friend, even our beloved family pet, Duchess, the Springer Spaniel (for Duchess, I feel shame). Dad's remark to Mom:

"Well, I guess that means he's not wearing his seat belt."

At Danny's first wedding, during the reception, each table had a disposable camera where guests were invited to take pictures of each other, the new couple, or whatever struck their fancy. My fancy was getting everybody I could find to moon the camera, outside of the ballroom in the elevator. Friends, cousins, uncles, sons...all took their turn mooning the camera. I was unsuccessful in convincing my 90 year grandfather to drop trou but we did get about 18 different pics. I was mistaken when I assumed that Dan and his then wife would develop the film.

Her parents did.

I can't be sure for certain but that may have started the beginning of the end of their short lived union. Welcome to the family.

As I look back and ponder, I realize that I have not always used my powers for good. As Uncle Ben counselled young Peter Parker:

"With great power comes great responsibility."

I'd say that my tuckus is indeed a great power. I hope that I can always use it responsibly.

Hot Wives, Email Judo, and Tongue Clicks

So it's a good feeling when you think that your wife is totally hot.

I'd have to say that Shandy has totally gotten better with age. Don't get me wrong, She was awesome from the start but each day she grows more and more beautiful.

Not every guy can say that and actually mean it. I know some guys with wives who peaked at 18 and it's been all down hill from there. Some women get to be in their 30's and just look worn out. They wear the mom uniform and develop a love for "stretchy pants". Now don't get me wrong, as Ignacio explained to Chanco, "When you are a man, sometimes you wear stretchy pants in your room. It's for fun." and that rings true. Lucha Libre is fun but soccer moms in stretchy pants...not so fun...

I digress. Bottom line: My wife is hot!



So I ran into this strip last week at the airport and it really struck close to home. I can totally relate to Wally:


Wally is a role model, really. A modern day Costanza. A hero for office pukes everywhere.

I'm really close to pulling a Mark Honn and deleting my entire inbox and then sending out a mass email saying that the contents of my inbox are gone. If there's anything important, please send it again. Of course then I have to sort out all of the important stuff before I do a mass delete.

Tomorrow Craig flies in from Montana and he, I, Bill, and Brent are going to hit the BSU Spring Scrimmage. I expect that there will be consumption of copious amounts of greasy food resulting in what Bill and I like to refer to as, "The Roaring Diarrhea", a term I discovered in anthropology class my Junior year of college. It was described as a pleasurable byproduct of eating a fat bull, by the Kung!San tribe of Africa (insert a tongue click between the 'Kung' and the 'San' where the exclamation point is...you know, there aren't enough tongue clicks in the English language. Maybe I'll make it my mission in life to add tongue clicks into everyday conversations. Knowing my luck, people will probably mistake it for Tourettes Syndrome...)

Ahhh...Irony

So it seems as though my post about prune juice may have been prophetic as I sit here blogging from the crapper.

Figured I'd be here for a while so why not take the laptop with me.

After dinner tonight, I indulged in some fat free ice cream...perhaps a little too much in hindsight. Of course you know what they say about hindsight, don't you? Hindsight is when you regret having powerful forces expelled from your hind. Trust me, not a sight to see.

Now, I'm paying the price. Why, oh, why does Splenda have to make everything taste so good (while retaining a low-fat, low-calorie ratio) and yet turns your insides inside out like some sugar-free monster that thinks your inards are play-dough?

Well, at least I'm amusing myself between the cramps...

Finally...A Day Off

No joke, in the last two months, I have had probably three days off. During those two months, I probably averaged 12 hour days with at least two 20 hour days and one 27.5 hour stint.

Today made day off #4. I was able to sleep in until 0800 until I was awoken by a phone call. It's always a big debate on whether or not to turn off the two cell phones I have on a day off. I always want to but there are usually emergencies to take care of so I screen the calls. I still probably spent at least an hour on the phone today, taking care of business. Shandy and I did have a relaxing day, though, for the most part. All of the older boys were in school, Nathan took a nap and Shandy and I watched some episodes of Freaks and Geeks.

Freaks and Geeks is one of those great shows that should have never been cancelled and was killed after just one season. Shandy and I have been laughing our butts off while watching the episodes.

Benny came home from pre-school and reminded Shandy of a promise she had made earlier so we ended up going to lunch at Golden Corral. Contrary to what you may think, it's actually possible to eat healthy at a buffet. Possible, not easy. All of the fried food was calling to me but I was strong. As we drove to GC, Benney had mentioned that it would have been OK if I had stayed home. I said, "You want me to stay home by myself?" To which he replied, "You're old enough. You're an adult." He quickly changed hi stance, though and told me how glad he was to have me coming.

I took a long nap in the afternoon, we had family home evening, and now the boys are in bed.

We became a recycling family today now that the city is providing the service. I feel hip and responsible. Maybe I'll buy a Toyota Prius, Shandy can stop shaving her legs and we can start touting hemp products...maybe not.