How may we disserve you?: I had to get to Harrisburg, PA for work. That meant a foray into the organized asshattery that is the air travel industry. The itinerary was: Detroit to Harrisburg via Dulles in DC, a night at the Crowne Plaza, and then reverse the trip the following day.

Just during the first leg, Detroit to Dulles, we were treated to:
• 20 minute delay for a mechanical repair in Detroit
• 10 minute delay at the gate to wait for paperwork on the mechanical repair
• 15 minute delay on the tarmac in Detroit because the air corridor to Dulles was too busy
• 10 minute delay waiting in Dulles for another plane to vacate our gate
• 15 minute travel time to the connecting flight because Dulles has a midfield terminal so you must take a shuttle to other terminals

All this added up to a missed connection. That meant a trip to the customer service desk where approximately 40 people were waiting for one of two customer service clerks, although for some reason every customer was treated as a team effort so there wass really only one clerk for everybody. Didn't matter if you needed a quick seat assignment on a later flight (like me) or you were trying to reschedule a multi-day itinerary and you wanted to debate the cost of every possible route and discuss it with your spouse for an extended amount of time before you made any decision (the people in front of me). Everybody got to wait for the same team of clerks.

What's worse, United's 800-number for reservations was hosed -- it kept cycling me back to the same voice response system -- so there was no alternative.

It is annoying and disheartening to miss your flight, but then to have to stand in line completely uncertain of your future and worry whether you were missing another flight while you were in line, or wonder whether you might as well just head to a hotel for the evening, or be terrified of losing your place in line even though your bladder is bursting -- that is strictly third-world level service. Shame on United Airlines in Dulles.

I was one of the lucky ones. I was able to get on the line to my corporate American Express travel agent, and although she couldn't perform all the magic paperwork, she was able to reserve a seat for me on the next Harrisburg flight. I just had to complete my wait in line to get my boarding pass, but at least I had a (relatively) certain future.

Still, I was facing sitting around the airport for 4 hours until the next flight, but luckily, Kate and Anna saved the day. They managed to break away to make it out to the airport and we got to share a quick dinner at the airport Marriott which, incidentally, turned out to be where Miss Anna's upcoming prom was to be held. It's a nice enough hotel (a standard-issue Marriott), but Anna deemed it to be too "ghetto" for a prom.

Back to Dulles for the short jump to Harrisburg. The plane appeared to be a reworked Greyhound bus from the '70s with wings welded to either side. I was in the very last row, my chin resting on my knees, and I had a rather too intimate aural relationship with anyone using the lavatory across from me. Then, we sat for a while at the gate because someone had parked a plane behind us and we couldn't pull out. I am not making that up. Our pilots wanted to pull away and fly but they had been parked in. It took at least 35 minutes to find the keys and move the blocking plane. Thirty-five minutes sitting at the gate for a twenty-two minute flight. The Dulles airport authorities are consummately incompetent. Between the design of that airport and people who run it, we'd all be better off if it was burnt to the ground. (Note to TSA monitors: That last sentence was hyperbole. I am not intending to, nor do I advocate, setting Dulles airport ablaze. Please do not strip search me next time through.)

Also, for some reason, the pilots we unable to turn the engines on so we could have air conditioning. It got seriously hot sitting at the gate -- not that the outside temp was that high, but it was a humid evening and this very cramped plane was absolutely packed. I was damp with sweat. The fat guy next to me was sweating profusely and popping some kind of serious looking pill.

Now, this was a United Express flight operated by Mesa Airlines. Mesa Airlines is the regional operator that farms itself out to United and USAir and America West and so forth. This is the second time I have spent an extended period sitting at the gate in sweltering heat with no a/c on a Mesa airlines flight. (The previous time was a few years ago in Phoenix.) If the pilots are forbidden to turn on the engines, thus providing a/c, because they don't want to waste fuel, Mesa should be sued out of existence immediately. If they are forbidden by airport or FAA policy, they should let people deplane back into the air-conditioned terminal until they get it sorted out.

If your reservation ever says United (or USAir, or America West) Express operated by Mesa Airlines, you are in for Hell -- be forewarned. Bluntly stated: I absolutely loathe Mesa Airlines.

Bottom line on getting to Harrisburg: 3.5 hours of planned travel became 9 hours. It would have been a 7-hour drive.

Oh, and when I arrived, the wireless in the Crowne Plaza was not working. Perfect.

The next day, I had planned to be in seminars and conference meetings until 5 and so had set up my flight out for 7:20pm. To my surprise, my duties were over by Noon. No problem, just get to the airport and get on standby for an earlier flight. I shamelessly copped a free ride on the Hilton airport shuttle even though I wasn't staying there. (The Hilton is right next door to the Crowne Plaza.)

Well, at the airport my first standby option had just closed the doors. It wouldn't have mattered anyway because a) it was overbooked to begin with and more importantly b) I had left my portfolio on the shuttle. Brilliant.

In my portfolio were my boarding passes, which were no problem because it's trivial to reprint them; my meeting notes, also no problem because I had already transcribed them into a Word doc; and a copy of my latest manuscript of Misspent Youth with scribbled edits over the first eight or so chapters. The manuscript itself was not a problem because it is ALWAYS backed up in a couple different places, but the scribbled edits, some extensive, were irreplaceable. After a couple of desperate phone calls to make sure the driver didn't throw it away, I was back in a cab heading back to the Hilton to retrieve it. Lucky I saved all that money by scamming an early ride to the airport, eh? At this point I didn't dare ask if things could get any worse.

The folks at the Hilton found and saved my notebook, and even tried to get it drive it back to me at the airport but we crossed paths. Excellent work from the Hilton. I'd feel guilty for scamming a free ride on their shuttle if I wasn't a regular at Hiltons for many years. Since I am screaming and yelling about some horrible service in this rant, it's only right to give equal time to the good experiences. Hilton has come through for me a number of times in my travel life; that's why I keep piling up Hilton Honors points. They are like the Toyota of hotels, nothing flashy but dead reliable.

Similarly, back at the Harrisburg airport, the United guys at the ticket counter got me re-routed on an earlier flight through O'Hare to cut a couple of hours off my travel time, and not only that, at the gate they changed my assigned coach-class middle seat to an Economy Plus (more legroom!) aisle seat. No charge. Those guys rule. A hundred and eighty degrees different from United in Dulles. Small airports rock.

But then things went quickly back to normal: about a fifteen minutes delay getting out of O'Hare to Detroit. At my arrival in Detroit I hopped a shuttle to the parking lot. The previous day I was happy when I assigned a parking space that was so close to the exit gate. Usually that means you will be the first one off the shuttle. But for some reason, the driver decided to start dropping folks at the far end first. I was dead last to get off. Then, coming home on I-94 I was stopped dead by night construction. It was knife twist upon knife twist.

Once again, what should have been a quick air trip took me as long as it would have to drive -- except in the car I could have stopped whenever, not worried about having my little bottle of mouthwash in a baggie, not been scrounging for elbow room on the plastic seats in the terminal, and been soothed by Sirius the whole way. How many hours wasted? I am too old to be wasting any of the time I have left on Earth. Probably the most infuriating and annoying bit of travel I have ever had. Ugh.