American Airlines suck. We dutifully arrived at BWI 4 hours before our
flight and were met with a line that looked like a cattle market. It took
more than an hour to shuffle our way through the nylon-roped maze to the
counter for our boarding passes, manned by only four ticket agents for a
line that must have constantly numbered at least 50 people. One of the
agents was dedicated to first class and would not take a coach passenger
even though no one was in the first class queue. When more than one first
class passenger was present, one of the coach agents halted the cattle to
accommodate first class. Every now and then an expeditor agent would show
up and ask if anyone was in line for a flight that was due to leave in the
next 45 minutes or so and those passengers would be taken directly to the
counter while the rest of us who arrived within the time frame suggested by
the airline waited.
Ironically, security at both BWI and JFK sucked. Though our carry-on was
packed with everything from a bag of dollar coins and personal hygiene items
to several books, binoculars, and beer opener, it was passed right through
the screening machine while the attendant ran back and forth between the
viewer and setting passengers' items on the conveyor belt. My belt buckle
set off the walk-through alarm and when I explained, "It's just my belt
buckle," they let me walk right through without further check.
I forgot to mention that while I was being booked at Heathrow police
station, Four Play found that AA had lost our backpacks and spent the next 6
hours running between the station and Terminal 3 trying to get our luggage
and registering at a nearby hotel (this constituted a "local address" for
bail purposes!).
When we arrived at the Dover-Calais ferry, our backpacks were not screened
and I was not even asked for my passport.
We decided to fly back to London the following Tuesday so we would have some
time to see something of the city besides its judicial system. At Schipol
airport in Amsterdam, we had booked a flight on something called "Easy Jet."
This sounded too much like "Value Jet" for my comfort, but it was better
than spending another 8 hours on trains (because of the time zone, you
actually get to Gatwick 5 minutes before you leave Schipol). After spending
45 minutes in the cattle pen leading up to Easy Jet's counter, we are told
that our backpacks are too large to go through the conveyor (which was
incredible, seeing the massive trunks most women were checking) and to place
them on the white luggage cart at the end of the counter. This we do, but
we stand there looking around and there is absolutely no one paying
attention to us. While FP waits by the backpacks I go back to the counter
and tell an obviously annoyed ticket agent that I'm uncomfortable with (a)
leaving our luggage unattended in an unsecured area and (b) if the cart was
going to carry luggage to the plane, what was to keep anybody from placing
anything on it?
This turned out predictably. At security I was taken aside and all but
strip-searched - even had to remove my shoes so they could be subjected to a
chemical test for explosives.
Wednesday, we leave London via Heathrow and meet the longest line in front
of the AA counter yet - at least 100 people (of course, there was virtually
no one at any other counter). At least this time they had 6 ticketing
agents processing the cattle ("Moooo!"). Much to our relief, our
reservations were till valid (we thought the incident on the way over might
have affected that), but my backpack was searched and all my cigar matches
were confiscated. It was okay to carry one book of matches and one butane
lighter in my pocket, but I was prohibited from checking luggage containing
matches.
At security, FP got picked for the "random" anal probe and the electric hand
wand went off as it passed over her left knee. She explained that she had
had reconstructive surgery (the scars are very evident) and had screws in
her bone, but we were detained for 15 minutes while three agents decided (I
guess) what the odds were that she was carrying some kind of weapon. Once
on the plane and for the entire flight back, we were treated to the rudest,
most insensitive flight attendants I've ever met - FP didn't even get an
apology when one spilled ice water in her lap.
We arrive at Logan that afternoon and have to sit on the tarmac for an hour
and a half because the INS is understaffed and is busy processing three
planes that have arrived before us. Once inside, it is pandemonium between
the INS, Customs, and USDA gauntlet. My backpack gets searched again and
the hundred or so flower bulbs I've purchased in Holland are confiscated,
even though the packaging has a "US Export" seal ("Not on the 'approved'
list," we are told).
After this cluster fuck, we find that our connecting flight is in Terminal B
(we are in Terminal A) and at Logan, that means taking a bus across the
airport campus about a mile away. We get to the AA Eagle counter and, of
course, we've missed our flight. The bitch-agent-from-hell tells us she can
put us on "stand by" and we might be able to get a flight back to BWI that
night. When I questioned her as to why, when AA gave me this itinerary and
no apparent account was given to the time it would take to get through
Customs and across the campus to their departure terminal, we were subject
to the possibility of having to spend the night in an airport, she actually
retorted, "You should have known better(!)" Before I erupted like a volcano
(I had had quite enough of American Airlines way before this point), FP
grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the counter. We had 2 hours to kill,
so we went to the bar.
We got on the flight but when we arrive at BWI the captain informs us that
AA's ground crew consists of a single individual and is busy with other
things. We sit on the tarmac for another 45 minutes before we can deplane,
and it takes an hour to get our backpacks from baggage claim - and mine has
been damaged.
Soooo....with all the BAD shit said - mainly concerning American Airlines -
I'll tell you about all the great things (especially the BEER) we
encountered in England, France, Belgium and The Netherlands, even though we
missed Dutch Nash Hash. Later.
On!On!
ad
