A Quick Trip
Okay. This is for all of you who may be jealous of other people's travels - buckle up and brace yourself for a hot, steaming plate of succulent schadenfreude. Actually more like a five course meal.
I had an short, informal, off site meeting at a scientific facility in Southern California. Dave (Breakthrough Listen lead engineer) and I (Breakthrough Listen lead computer geek) went to represent our project. Given the large attendance, and an agenda including a tour of the site, we decided to meet down there instead of trying to set up a video conference. It's always best to convene in person, and given the relatively nearby locale we aimed for a quick 24 hour-ish trip: leave Sunday night, meet Monday morning/afternoon, return Monday night.
I hate coordinating tight flight schedules, so originally I figured we'd drive. But since it was a seven hour journey each way I was eventually convinced flying made more sense time-wise - especially as we had to be back in Berkeley Tuesday morning for another meeting. The airport nearest to where we had to be was Ontario (in San Bernardino County) and Southwest flew directly there from Oakland. Easy squeazy! Except our project has been kinda bought into the whole United Airlines ecosystem. So given various conveniences and frequent flyer programs we ended up flying United out of SFO. Dave offered me a ride to the airport - that softened the blow a bit.
We bought our tickets about a week out, and once the 24 hour full-refund grace period was over we got an e-mail from United notifying us about runway reconstruction at SFO which may cause some flight delays. Why didn't anybody tell us this while we were buying the tickets? Well, we've heard such warnings before so we paid it no mind.
Two days before leaving we got another e-mail saying they'd rebook our flights free of charge if we do so desire. No we didn't do so desire - we were on a rigid schedule! Also, admittedly, I wanted to arrive early enough on Sunday to ensure a full night of rest after months of sleep depravation due to my adorable but high maintenance puppy.
On Saturday night Dave and I got a text that the flights were flat out cancelled. Well, shit. I guess they were serious. Dave booked himself on the next available flight, but by the time I got on line three minutes later to do the same there were no available seats left. So in order to stay together for logistical purposes (the rental car was in my name, for example) we scrambled to get on an even later plane - the only option really was a flight that left around 10pm and arrived just before midnight. So much for being well slept! Still, we accepted this fate. Also this later plane was much larger than the earlier two, and thus less likely to be unceremoniously axed from the schedule.
We already booked a rental car and a hotel (the latter being uncancel-able on short notice). I called Hertz to let them know about the later arrival. Turns out Ontario airport is small enough that the rental car companies all shut down by midnight. They claimed we should be able to make it just in time, but now I had anxiety surrounding vehicle availability once we got into town.
Jenya and I were winding down for bed when I got a text from United. It said in a friendly manner that boarding had started for my flight. What?! I discovered in my panic/haste earlier I apparently booked a replacement flight for TONIGHT, not tomorrow. Oh, for fuck's sake! Doom filled my bloodstream but luckily all it took was a quick phone call to United and they fixed it no questions asked.
Sunday came, and while packing in the afternoon Dave and I got another set of alerts from United. Our current flight was delayed an hour. At this point we'd land at 1am and certainly miss the car rental window, so we decided to aim for an earlier arrival at a different airport. But which one: Burbank vs. Orange County? After many texts back and forth overthinking this decision we settled on Orange County. Our new flights boarded around 8pm. This revised departure time would make up for the additional driving to the hotel from a more distant airport.
Dave picked me up en route to SFO. On the road he groaned that, with his elite United status, he had a first class upgrade on that first flight, but lost it during all this rebooking. Bummer. We parked in long term. While on the shuttle to the terminal we got alerts on our phone about our upcoming gates. I couldn't help but notice his said gate 77. Weird - my alert said gate 82. I then looked closer at his phone. Burbank? Why are you flying to Burbank?!!
Somehow we screwed up and bought tickets leaving at the same time but going to different airports. Hilariously both of us had the same immediate instinctual reaction: to flick our phones and frantically scan our mutual text conversation to see who fucked up. Honestly, neither of us were really at fault. Just some basic miscommunication due to a lot of vague responses and bad timing during some rapid fire texting. Like something out of an episode of "Three's Company."
Well, now what?! We're supposed to be boarding in like 30 minutes. We hit the United desk and explained the situation. The woman was sympathetic, and at first said there wasn't much she could do as both flights were full. I braced for having to drive an hour out of the way from Orange County to Burbank to pick up Dave after we land.
However, she then admitted one seat remained open on my flight to Orange County, but it's first class. Dave countered that he had a first class ticket on one of the flights we had to change. But unfortunately he had no direct proof of this - in this day and age of mobile passes nobody prints them out anymore. The woman did some poking at the keyboard, staring at the screen, calling on the phone, and waving over of the supervisor. Without much discussion her machine started printing and she, with an air of secrecy, slipped Dave a ticket for that first class seat on my flight. It's a miracle! Thank you! So Dave got his upgrade after all and I wouldn't have to drive an extra hour to Burbank.
Not much time to spare, we slogged through security. For some reason the bin with my laptop got flagged for secondary screening. Fine, except the slow ass TSA motherfucker had two pieces of luggage ahead of me to dig through and he was taking his own stupid time. Ten minutes later he got to my laptop and found the only reason it was flagged was because the x-ray machine operator failed to get a look at it, and simply wanted it sent through again.
No more problems for the next stretch. We landed in SoCal, made it to the hotel by midnight (driving past Ontario airport en route), and slept a tiny bit. Woke up early and hit the neighborhood Walmart because I forgot to bring a razor. The working part of the trip on Monday was productive. The meeting ended a little early, so Dave and I had no problem getting back to Ontario for our flight home, which - according to United - was still on time, boarding at 8pm.
The airport was basically empty. I wandered around the barren terminal. About 20 minutes before boarding Dave and I both got the dreaded text alerts. Flight cancelled. Dave was automatically booked a seat on the next flight - at 6am tomorrow morning. That plane filled quickly so I got plopped on the next flight after that - at 5pm tomorrow afternoon. Bloody fucking hell.
We scrambled back to the front desk, waiting in line behind angry people. I, too, had steam coming out of my ears. Dave thoughtfully reminded me that it's not the fault of the agents behind the desk, and being nice to them goes a long way.
Once finally served we calmly asked about our options. There weren't many. I could be on standby for that 6am flight, but we all knew that will likely be cancelled. And the thought of waking up at 4am for a flight that may be delayed, or cancelled, or taking off without me was absolutely terrifying. Anyway there wasn't much the agent could or would do. Given the SFO delays were not United's fault they offered zero hotel support or anything other than no-charge ticket changes.
Dave and I went off to the side to figure shit out. We dearly considered getting a rental car and driving home right fucking now. But we were already kinda wrecked from general lack of sleep and the long day thus far so driving until 3am didn't seem fun nor smart. One workmate back in Berkeley, aware of the situation, dearly suggested we get an Uber all the way home.
I found a Southwest flight set to leave in about 30 minutes to Oakland. We probably could have hopped on that if we hurried. Dave wasn't as willing to run for it, as we'd arrive at 11pm and he'd have to get to SFO and drive home getting in after 1am, which seemed horrible at the time. So out of continued comradery, and making sure Dave didn't get totally fucked by himself, we decided to both go for a 6:45am flight out of Orange County tomorrow. Plus staying in the United system gave us one last chance at those precious few frequent flyer miles, I guess. Our updated tickets had us on a larger plane at a larger airport which could only improve our chances of getting the fuck out of this hellscape.
We still required a hotel, so we booked one right across the street from the Orange County airport. We also needed to get there. We could've grabbed a taxi, but Dave seemed keen to use this opportunity to see what it was like to rent a car just to go between these two airports - perhaps a cheaper option, maybe even faster, also maybe improving the fun quotient of this pointless adventure.
Grabbed a car from the lot and headed out on the highway for the 45 minute trek to Orange County. We kinda forgot about the fact we would still need to gas up as the needle dipped below full as we approached. Conveniently there's a Chevron right by the airport. We arrived and.. the station was closed for repairs. Oh Jesus Fucking Shit Christ already!
The nearest gas station was a couple miles up the road. This little extra errand added 10 minutes to the whole thing. Given the taxes and the refueling, driving ourselves ended up not being cheaper nor faster than a taxi/Uber/whatever.
Plus a professional ride would have dropped us off at our hotel. Luckily the hotel was a simple walk across the street from the airport. Easy, right?
The rental car area was below ground. The first two stairwells we ascended had the exit oddly blocked off at the arrivals level. Hunh. Third time was the charm. Using GPS I walked toward the main exit of the whole complex. We saw sidewalks and pedestrian crossing signals when driving by earlier, so we knew it was possible to walk into the airport. But how do you walk out?
As our blue dot on the GPS screen pulsed near the main exit we found it unreachable, with no obvious way to get around the rails and fences. Weird. In fact our GPS on-foot directions showed that we had to trudge a mile further down and then back around to get out to the main street. I thought, "this can't be true." We kept stomping around, back and forth, completely unable to suss out how to get the fuck out of here! And yet we could see our hotel through the bars about 100 yards away. So frustrating!
Dave spotted a break in the fences. We squeezed out and the path outside led us right down to the curb. But here was no sidewalk. Just a curb and impenetrable shrubbery on either side of us. Ahead were five lanes of high-speed traffic zooming around a blind curve. As we weighed the risk of playing real life Frogger sprinklers on the grassy median across the way came alive. If we went for it, and survived, we would have gotten totally shpritzed.
We bailed on that plan. We succumbed to requiring assistance and sulked back to the general ground transportation area. On a panel was a number for our hotel - maybe we should be pathetic and give up and call them and inquire about their shuttle offerings. I took out my old school wired earbuds and tried to dial them up on my iPhone but nobody was answering. Then I realized my earbuds - which have survived two trips through the laundry during their lifespan - have finally shredded to death from all the tangling/detangling after yanking them out of my pocket several times every day for years. I refuse to press a cell phone against my head, so Dave called. Turns out they stop running shuttles after 10pm, i.e. about 30 minutes ago.
Back in the main terminal I found a woman at an info desk and described our embarrassing situation: We can see our hotel right across the way but can't figure out how to get there. She responded, having likely heard this before, "isn't that the worst?" She then went on to explain, "go back outside to the curb and walk up to the crosswalk between columns 8 and 9, then turn left and cross and keep going straight even though it looks like it goes nowhere and - just trust me - you'll see it."
Okay then. We heeded her guidance and found columns 8 and 9, turned left, and - no surprise - at first escape seemed impossible. Nothing but parking lot and fence as we entered the garage. But then, as if it were a mirage, we spotted a sign on one random cement pillar that had an arrow and the words, "pedestrian exit." And that arrow led us to a door which, like the sign itself, was oddly unnoticeable unless you approached in this exact direction. And suddenly we were on the sidewalk and a few steps away from our hotel.
We checked in. I got to my room and crashed to sleep as soon as possible but only after maniacally ripping my earbuds into tiny pieces and throwing them away. That minor violence felt good, but I suffered the usual anxiety/insomnia due to unpredictable travel, being in an unfamiliar bed, and the fact that I should be home already. I basically have slept about 8 hours total during the last two nights.
Got up Tuesday morning around 4:30am and showered. This was one of those hotels that decorate with positivity. For example there was a pillow on my bed with the word "love" embroidered on it. And, awkwardly, a framed picture hung right above the toilet that read in mixed fonts, "make today amazing." That's nice but I wasn't quite sure what amazing things they hoped I'd accomplish in this bathroom. After packing I had five minutes before heading to the lobby to stare at my sorry face in a full length mirror and give myself an existential crisis.
Dave and I walked over to the airport. Much easier in this direction. The line at security was minimal. The TSA asshole waved me out of the scanner too early, so I had to get zapped a second time. As I gathered my bags I saw a nice watch on the conveyor belt left by the guy ahead of me who already split to his gate. I gave it to the agent and then observed from afar to make sure it was returned to the rightful owner (who already came rushing back for his lost item). I'm a secret guardian angel.
Had a half hour to kill at the gate before boarding at 6am. It was looking good - lots of passengers, ticket agents at the desk, even the stewardesses and captain were going down the jetway. But still, I felt something was wrong.. And sure enough, just as I got in the queue to board they announced the flight was delayed until at least 11am. An endless string of outraged passengers lined up at the desk.
Dave and I were completely defeated, sleepless, just wanting to get home already. While looking into options on our laptops I couldn't help but notice that 6am flight out of Ontario was already in the air. So if I was able to get on that Southwest flight last night, and then Dave got on that 6am plane he got booked on (but I didn't), I'd be home already and Dave would be en route. And we wouldn't have had to shlep to Orange County and deal with all that bullshit last night. Fucking hindsight.
I overheard the other passengers were getting flat out refunds (which usually isn't the case for delayed planes). I couldn't take it anymore. Jenya had a photo shoot that afternoon and I was on the hook for puppy babysitting detail. So I finally called it quits on working with United and SFO. I booked a ticket on the next Southwest flight to Oakland (at 10am). Then I got in line to get my money back and commiserate with other travellers who, honestly, were more fucked than me. I only needed to get home but they were missing connections to important jobs, family gatherings, vacations, Canada..
I got my refund. So now I'm set. Plus I'll fly to Oakland which is a much easier BART ride home for me. Dave still had to go to SFO because of his car and wasn't sure what to do. I helped him consider the facts - last we heard this flight to SFO was delayed to at least 11am, and all our fellow passengers were booking other flights so they'd probably just cancel it entirely which had been our experience thus far. And if he got on the Oakland flight with me we'd certainly land at 11am, and he'd get to SFO by BART well before this United flight lands, if it ever takes off. Convinced, he went for it.
However he called United to cancel his flight instead of waiting in the giant queue like I did. Over the phone they gave him credit, but not a refund. He accepted the credit as he didn't realize we were all getting our money back at the desk. Rightfully upset when I told him of my success he got in the line, but by the time he talked to the agent his ticket was "out of the system" and he couldn't get a refund.
Still had two hours to kill. Got coffee (now that I wasn't going to sleep on a plane any time soon) and wandered around. Dave and I both couldn't help noticing that the flight we bailed on this morning had an updated departure time of 9:45am. I though, "that can't be right - they said 11am at the earliest! They lied to us!!" But of course as we were still waiting for our plane we heard a final boarding announcement for our rejected United flight. Well, fucking good for them!
Dave got really screwed. He didn't get a refund, and instead of getting a comfy economy plus seat on a plane to SFO right now he'll get a middle seat in a cramped plane to Oakland that arrives later and then have to take an hour BART train to SFO. I knew he was a bit pissed but he was still a good sport about it. I felt guilty for leading Dave astray, but then I remembered I originally wanted to fly out of Oakland which would have been easier in general, and none of the above bullshit would have happened. The real lessons here are (a) go with your gut, (b) despite occasional perks brand loyalty is rarely worth it, (c) more often than we'd like to admit comradery fucks everybody over, and (d) you can make the smartest decisions and still fail miserably.
At least the Southwest flight was basic. Given our last minute purchases we were C group and boarded last. Somehow I was still able to snag a window seat. Dave and I parted ways at the BART station by Oakland airport. I went home and took a looong fucking nap.