Flying United, to me, is like crossing the Andes in a prison bus. There is no question in my mind that somebody like Pat Nixon personally approves every United stewardess. Nowhere in the Western world is there anything to equal the collection of self-righteous shrews who staff the “friendly skies of United.”
Hunter S. Thompson, Scanlan’s Monthly, vol.1, no.1, March 1970
It’s fly season here in Denver. While the daytime temperatures have been mild, the nights are getting cold, and the flies are seeking heat. I have the the balcony door wide open and the flies are coming in from the cold, only to come to the sudden realization that they’re trapped in a strange place that they can’t escape, and they start banging against the glass, trying to get out. But when they reach the balcony door, they don’t go out. It’s too cold.
So they are trapped between the need for warmth and the need for freedom. Trapped in limbo between two ingrained survival instincts.
As my father would say, sucks to be them.
I mentioned in my last post, Kristi and I were married on October 11th, and two days later we hopped a plane to Tenerife, Spain for our honeymoon. We had an amazing time filled with days on the beach, evenings of sangria, and a visit to the 12,000+ foot peak of Teide.
A wonderful trip indeed. But I won’t drone on about how much fun we had, at least in this post, because I need to rant a bit.
I’ve been traveling a lot lately, and mostly for multi-stop trips of 20+ hours one-way. I’ve been on US Airways, American, United, Delta, Frontier, Spanair, Iberia, Condor, British Airways and Luftansa since the beginning of the year. Like most Americans, when I march into a plane I grit my teeth and prepare for an experience that is more dehumanizing and humiliating than an all day trip to the DMV while strapped to a bed of nails. Naked.
Ah college, how I miss thee.
Ahem.
Unlike most people, when I talk about humiliation and dehumanization I am not talking about airport security. You can scan me, wand me, and (THE HORROR) even make me remove my shoes and belt in the name of a safe ride. It’s all good my TSA peeps. Do your rituals, keep me safe.
I’m not even overly concerned by the terror that comes when you get the first glance of the banged-up beater of a plane that you are about to defy the law of gravity in. Many of these plane seem to have gotten their last paint job somewhere in the 1970s…unless you are flying American Airlines, who decided that not painting their planes would be a good idea when they bought them…nice long term thinking you clots.
I’m a big boy though, and know that paint does not equal aerodynamics, and I’m sure painting a plane is much more expensive than painting an ’85 Civic. Maaco doesn’t do 757’s last I checked. And hey, wouldn’t I rather the airlines spend their refurbishing money on the interior of the planes rather than the exterior?
You bet your ass.
But in most cases, the interior of most “modern” airliners is worse than the exterior. In the last year I have sat in planes with seats so old you basically sit on the metal frame, cabins with such little leg room I could not physically get my legs in them, and of course, seats that are so stained and filthy I end up burning my clothes in the airport bathroom after I land (note: doing this in Madrid’s airport will actually improve air quality in the terminal).
I am realizing I’m wondering from my original point here, so let bring things back…
Where I am trying to go with this is the scourge of the airline industry and the true cause for our country’s collective hatred of the process of flying.
The lack of in-flight customer service.
I don’t think I realized how bad things have gotten with in-flight customer service until I had something recent to compare it to. Namely, recent flights on British Airways and Luftansa. Two airlines that not only managed to impress me with their beautiful maintained aircraft, but treated passengers like true guests and paying customers – a blessing on a trans-Atlantic flight.
And then there was the flight on Saturday. Frankfurt to Chicago on United flight 945. Anchored by a crew of flight attendants who, aside from having been in the industry since the Wright Brother’s second flight a Kitty Hawk, had the attitudes of a pack of rabid porcupines.
I have never seen customers glared at like I saw on Saturday. Any request small or large was received with a glare and open hostility from the union-entrenched flight crew. I even saw a German woman get yelled at because she mistakenly accepted the wrong immigration form from a flight attendant, because the German woman only spoke, wait for it, German.
It was all too insane. Surely 9/11, the war in Iraq, the deluge of campaign advertisements or the poor condition of the stock market and the airline industry caused these people to snap. When things get better in our world, these vultures of the friendly skies will perk back up and start treating people like the sweet little finches that they are at heart.
And then I came across the quote at the start of this post, written in 1970 by Hunter S. Thompson.
United. Prison bus. Self-righteous shrews.
My brain exploded.
In 28 years United has had a customer service problem that they haven’t fixed.
28 years and the company has been treating people like they don’t need or want their business.
28 years.
How does that happen? Has anyone in the United hierarchy sat in the coach section of their own planes in the last 28 years? Do they even care?
No wonder these airlines are going out of business. And now wonder that no one, other than the abused pilots and the abusive flight attendants, will miss the “friendly skies” when they finally disappear sometime in the next couple of years.
As they said on that old SNL Skit – “Buh-bye.”
But with that said, soon enough, I’ll be back on a plane. Flying across the Atlantic. If not on United, I’ll be on their ornery sibling, US Airways. Feeling the brunt of a legacy of 28 years of bad customer service. Trapped between the need to do what I do for a living and the need to be recognized as a human being.
What kind of a choice is that?
I don’t know, but I suddenly feel like saving these flies.