I don’t think I’m breaking any news here when I say that air travel has become a pretty miserable goddam experience lately.
Between the delays, the fees, the lost bags and the troubling proximity to “other people” it’s tempting to give the whole industry a hearty “Up Yours,” but really, most of the time, what can you do? A couple of months back I needed to go to Portland for work. What was I going to do? Walk?
But I think we have a choice more often than we realize.
Recently I was getting set to book my ticket home for the holidays / LittleSister’s Elaborate Wedding Extravaganza. Fortunately, Christmas and the EWE fall close enough together that I’ll be able to roll it all into one trip, and it was looking like I’d be able to score a pretty reasonable fare.
Not so fast.
When I travel, my so-called “personal item” is often a scruffy little 16-lb terrier named Mr. Henry, who travels in a soft-sided carrier under the seat in front of me and is pretty much always passed out before takeoff. For this privilege, United wants to charge me $175. Each. Way.
So, United, up yours. You’ve finally nickle and dimed me to the point where I’m just going to say, Fuck it. I’m driving, from Los Angeles to Denver. Happy goddam holidays.
