Beyond the South End

(There is no date on this clipping which was sent to me by my mother years ago. Ted and I believe it was in the 80s when he went to Washington to report on the political news for our area at that time. Eastern Airlines was in existence until 1991, so that would be about right.)

 

‘Thank you for your patience’

Air travel is for the birds.

Oh, I know that it is safer than land travel, statistic-wise, and it is fast. But efficient, it isn’t.

When making preparations a couple of weeks ago to fly to the nation’s capital, the horror stories began surfacing from friends. There were stories of lost luggage, delayed flights, missed connections. One friend said he traveled to Florida in March. He hasn’t recovered his luggage yet.

Forever the optimist, I said nothing could be as bad as what people were saying. So it was with some trepidation that I departed on a Sunday morning from Portland Jetport via Continental Airways.

The Sunday morning flight took off exactly on time and landed exactly on time. When I walked through the terminal door, there was my luggage on the turntable. What was all that ballyhoo? This was great service and efficient transportation. Could it have been that it was a Sunday, and the aircraft was only half full?

The return trip was something else. I was scheduled to leave Washington at 5:40 p.m. Friday. Heavy traffic had to be expected. Everyone in the world, it seemed, wanted to leave Washington on Friday afternoon. My flight was to have connected in Boston with Delta, and then on to Portland. There was an hour in Boston to make the connection from the Continental flight. No problem. That was what I was assured by the ticket agent.

Arriving an hour early for the 5:40 fight, it appeared that everything was normal. But then the people started arriving. They jammed into the terminal. Many had to stand as there were not enough seats. It was announced that not only would the flight be slightly delayed (He said 15 minutes. It ended up being 80 minutes), but the flight had been overbooked. Anyone willing to give up a seat could receive a free round-trip ticket anywhere in the U.S. on a standby basis. There were a few takers.

Finally the aircraft was made ready for boarding. But the air conditioner was not working. It was hot. People were sweaty and testy. Three people were wandering up and down the aisle looking for their seat assignments. They had been assigned seats that did not exist. By then flight attendants began checking tickets.

My Boston connection was for 8 p.m. Good luck, said my seatmates. We arrived in Boston at 8:35. The man at the Continental desk was apologetic. He wrote me a ticket on an Eastern Express flight that was to leave at 9:30. No guarantee of a seat, he said. If they didn’t have room I was to come back and he would hire a cab to drive me to Portland. By this time family members were already at Portland waiting for my flight.

What about my luggage? The Continental man said that since I had been booked on Delta, it was automatically sent to them. He said I could try to retrieve it, but I might miss the Eastern flight. I gambled. It then became a race against time with me running up and down stairs between Eastern and the Continental baggage claim area. With less than three minutes to flight time I got my suitcase. Rush to Eastern. Give them my bag. Get in line for boarding.

It was with a great sigh of relief when I settled into the seat of the small aircraft for the 32-minute flight to Portland. As we taxied to the end of the runway and began acceleration toward takeoff, the aircraft was suddenly shut down. It was an aborted takeoff. The pilot explained there was another plane overhead in our flight pattern. Another taxi trip around Logan. The flight may have been only 32 minutes, but it took 20 minutes to get off the ground.

Finally, we landed at Portland after a very smooth flight. All that was left was to greet the family, pick up the luggage and head home. But there was no suitcase. The baggage claim guy guaranteed it would be delivered to my door the next day. I said deliver it to Knox County Airport and I would pick it up It happened exactly that way. Except there was a rather large rip through the side of my rather cheap suitcase. Bring it back and the airline would have it repaired, I was told. It is now somewhere between here and the repairman.

One of the most irritating aspects about the whole episode was that at every turn, the captains of the aircrafts kept saying, “Thank you for your patience.” Even the lost baggage claim form had the same words, “Thank you for your patience.”

Thank you for your patience.