We’d been warned that this was the worst time to visit the Uk, what with a combination of record-breakingly low temperatures, extraordinary levels of snow, and Britain’s staunch refusal to prepare for, or cope with, such conditions, but we’d booked the tickets and just wanted to GO.
It was all going so well too: we’d sorted out the bird sitting, booked time off work, put timers on the lights, and engaged in the late stage panic, and then they cancelled the flight. I already hated Gatwick and US Airways, but now I just felt sad. I’d predicted problems and, unlike with the lottery, my predictions were accurate.
So, I called US Air and settled in for an extended period of annoyance and disappointment. After a lengthy period on hold, I spoke to a Lady who told me that the earliest flight they could put me on was next Tuesday. There was a long, long pause while I assessed each possible outcome and realised it’s fail value. Eventually I explained that this was no good, and was about to cancel everything when the lady uttered a magic incantation that immedgately cheered my mood.
“The only other thing I can do is call the other airlines and see if we can get you on one of their flights”
What? You can do that? There must be a catch I thought.
“But what about our tickets?” I asked.
“Oh they’ll be transferred to the other airline. But I’ll have to put you on hold, is that ok?”
Well I didn’t feel like going on hold so I decided to give up and just write off the tickets and forget about going home.
To cut a long story short, this wonderful woman got us a flight on a different (and hopefully better) airline and we’re now sitting in Newark airport (after a short flight on a Bedford Rascal with wings) and drinking a $9 pint of Guinness in the “Guinness Irish Pub” which sells paninis and reubens.
We’ve also been to a “wine bar” that ripped us off, while it was ripping us off. I hate fucking airports.
So, still time for another cancellation, but at least there’s Guinness.
Apologies for typos/spelligns.