Just so you know, when I fly, I fly standby. I was furloughed (sounds more kind than ‘laid off’) in September 2009 from US Airways but I can still fly free for two more years. I did not make use of that benefit since my last day of service when I flew to New Orleans but I vow I will take greater advantage of it henceforth and share my flight experiences with you. By standby, I mean if there are seats and weight available, I can fly. I must wait until all passengers are seated. As a furloughed employee, I have lower status than active employees, but higher status than buddy pass riders and employees from other airlines. We are called ‘non-revs’, as in non-revenue, as in not making money for the airline.
Saturday, August 21, 2010, I flew to Philadelphia. You can read more about Bead Fest at mermadi.blogspot.com. This blog is just about travel. I couldn’t afford this trip so I cut costs every way possible. Instead of paying $7 to park my car, I loaned it to my son with his guarantee that he would drop me off and pick me up. Seven dollars saved was $7 more to spend at Bead Fest.
I gained some pounds since I left last year. I fervently hoped I would dodge as many former co-workers as possible. Since I was not checking a bag, I had no need to stop by the ticket counter, avoiding tearful greetings and the look of surprise regarding my expanding physique. All I had to do was print my boarding pass before I left home. Yeah, like I tried unsuccessfully to print a section of my novel to take to my writer’s group last week. I tried everything. I disgustedly rebooted and voila, my boarding pass printed, plus my personal copy to keep (which I didn't need), plus an extra page with one line of print. But at least I could jet straight up the stairs to TSA.
Even though I have a low opinion of TSA policies in general and several TSA officers in particular, I applied to be a TSA officer when I was first laid off. Yes, I admit it. My credit report was not suitable for such an easily corruptible position, saving me from selling my soul to the devil. The TSA officer operating the line I made the mistake of selecting was in my interview group. He filled out his forms wrong, but so did I. I dutifully followed my own advice in Prepared For Takeoff and wore easily removable shoes. I put them in the bin in which I also put my tote bag with the laptop laid on top. I noticed the three guys ahead of me, who looked like servicemen, as the TSA officer had been, did not remove their boots. Because of my great distaste for TSA, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and brought it to the officer’s attention. His reply was, “put your laptop in a separate bin”. Not required, no one else had to do it, just a little dig at me because he can get away with it. People like him are responsible for my low opinion of TSA.
Back in my shoes, I went straight to my gate. It was almost boarding time. Most gate agents prefer that non-revs sit down and shut up. When you check in, your name is entered into the passenger list for the flight, even if you check in online. The same goes for non-revs, except we appear on a different list. The list also includes revenue passengers who are standing by for an earlier flight or for first class seats. They, of course, will be called first. Rick Smith was the only agent working the flight, a sad thought. That used to be a two person flight because it is late due to maintenance so often. But all systems were ‘go’ that Saturday, so he worked a nearly full flight with a lot of non-revs. Rick is a sweet guy, although he tries to appear tough, maybe because he is a karate expert. I knew he was busier than a long tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs, so I sat down in the corner and people watched. He began his announcements, “Welcome to Flight 3682, service to Philadelphia. We will be boarding by zones. Please check your boarding pass for your zone. Hello, Mary.” Gotta love Rick. I got an exit row window seat. I was up all night and a snooze would have been nice, but I don’t have the nerve to sleep in an exit row seat. I am afraid of waking up to a desperate mob yelling at me to open the door. Plus, I was experiencing a mild anxiety attack since I had not flown in almost a year. The two young pilots napping in the exit row across the aisle had no such qualms. They slept like babies dressed as airline pilots in their hip shades. Air Wisconsin operates most of the flights for US Airways out of Norfolk. Generous flight attendants often donate coffee packets to our break room. I grew to love their coffee and it was a pleasurable experience to savor it again on the short flight to Philly.
The flight was the easiest part of the trip. During my insomnia spell the night, I priced a small rental car versus a train/bus combo. The car was twice as much, or $15 more. So far, I scraped $22 off the cost of the trip, which I spent on a spool of special wire for stringing ID lanyards.
I was confused about the train schedule, but I knew for sure it stopped at the A terminal and US Airways operated a shuttle between the A terminal and the F terminal where we landed so that’s where I went. Long wait for the shuttle, long walk to the train stop. Then we were delayed due to track repairs. The nice conductor lady let me buy a return trip for a $5 savings. Crimps to go with the new wire! She liked me because I gave her a good laugh at my expense. I asked about a stop at ‘Skykill Rd.” She didn’t understand me at first. It turns out Schuykill is pronounced ‘Skoolcal’. Such a nice lady with excellent customer service skills. In fact, all of the natives I met in Philadelphia were friendly and helpful.
My next obstacle was to navigate the train station in search of a stop for the 125 bus. The train station is massive, mostly an AMTRAK terminal. Before I left the terminal, I picked up a half Italian sub with house sauce that looked like baby poo, larger than our half subs, and a small bottle of water to save for later. I followed signs to a side street with a sign for a bus ticket office to get a round trip ticket. The office was closed on weekends. Finally, a bus came by, the wrong bus, but the driver told me where to go to get the right bus—the other side of the train station. So I trekked over there. The day was getting warm. I was wearing all black. Met more nice Philadelphians at the bus stop. Finally, my bus came. The fare all the way to the convention center was $3.50, but I could only find $2.50 plus some twenties but he didn’t give change. He let me on anyway. See how they are? As soon as I sat down, I found another dollar. After an hour, we passed my stop and ended up at Valley Forge. I admit to a George Washington fixation and the temptation to linger was strong, but I’ll save that for next year. He took me back to the convention center at no extra charge. I gave him the dollar I owed him. It was a bit of a walk for a fat lady like me to the Bead Fest area, but worth it. I had a meltdown from the crowds, exhaustion, dehydration, and hunger so I went outside and supped and gabbed on the phone. My thoughts were able to line up after that break.
I intended to hang around Bead Fest until they closed at six o’clock, but couldn’t hang beyond three. Leaving early meant I would have to hang around somewhere else because I was booked on the eight o'clock flight. In truth, I looked forward to chilling at the Philadelphia airport with a cold beverage and 4G wireless on my Sprint connection. I can’t even download a simple video with the local 3G connection, much less re-install World of Warcraft.
I hoped I would get the same driver on the return trip, but another nice driver picked me up. Since I was at the end of the route, I got a good seat and a good nap. In no time at all, we were back at the tain station, te first bus stop I tried. I meant to get some Ben and Jerry’s ice cream but after hauling my fat ass around all day, I didn’t want to eat anything with calories. I’ve recovered since, unfortunately.
The trains were running late. One of the tracks was down, the one that delayed us inbound due to construction, so it had to share the same track as other trains. My train was a half hour late. I saw a conductor whose lip literally curled up. I’ve heard the expression, ‘his lip curled distastefully’, but I had never actually seen someone do it. Either he found everything distasteful or it was a permanent affliction. That would explain why he kept the insubstantial mustache. Again, I went to the A terminal only because I knew there was a shuttle. It took me a while to find a place to check in and a lot more walking. The kiosk (always try the kiosk first!) helpfully informed me there was an earlier flight and offered to move me to it. I’ll take some of that action, I said to the kiosk. I had no clue what time it was. By the time I stumbled across the shuttle gate and waited…and waited…and stared at a big, bold necklace on a slim woman my age with long, multi-colored hair, super cool sneakers, and a tank top—no arm jiggle!—and got to the gate, the time was ten minutes to boarding. And what happens at boarding time minus ten? That’s right, the door closes. Except this flight was undergoing a crew change and the new crew arrived late. About ten minutes later, the crew finished their pre-flight duties and a supervisor managed the gate. As you know, I sit down and shut up. There were a lot of people boarding. Since she never called my name and she sent the slowest gate agent ever to deliver the paperwork, I figured there was no room for me and actually looked forward to playing with the computer. I got up and looked for an electrical outlet to rebook myself. Then she asked if I was non-rev. Yup. “Well, why didn’t you tell me you were here? I thought you were a no-show. Come on, get on the plane.” So I did. The flight attendant was a man who looked just like Milton on Office Space, a joke I shared with the British students next to me.
We waited. And waited. Finally, the pilot announced there was a discrepancy in the fuel volume between what the last crew reported and what was listed on their paperwork. Rather than ask passengers to get off the plane and take another flight, we would wait for a fuel truck to suck out 400 pounds of fuel. I offered to get off, but they don’t go by actual weight. All passengers have the same statistical weight. If I got off, they still would have to get rid of a couple more people so I stayed on. The fuel truck finally rolled up, full already. It had to leave to fuel another plane and come back with room for our fuel. While we waited, another fuel truck with room came and rescued us. So many things can go wrong, it amazes me when flights take off on time.
I had a lovely time chatting with the girls, who came to Old Dominion University in Norfolk for an American Studies program. I told them it was ironic they came to the very area where England lost America, but that was one of the reasons they came. The legal drinking age in England is 18. At twenty, they had been drinking for two years and wanted a drink when they got to Philadelphia. As soon as we were airborne, I fell asleep. When I woke on approach to Norfolk, the flight attendant sat next to me, chatting up the British birds, who he had treated to the adult beverage of their choice. As I disembarked, he asked if I wanted water for the road since I slept though beverage service. I feel so bad about calling him Milton!
My girl, Lauren met the plane. She made me feel like a movie star when I walked down the steps with her warm welcome. Cute new ‘do, Lauren!
Next up, Daytona Beach to visit my brother. Stay tuned.
