Japan Trip - Vol II

With the success of yesterday's post reviewing the first day of my trip, I'm back again to regale you in my adventures for the second day of travel. This included the flight from Chicago to Nagoya, Japan and has a few key notes for anyone out there who might be traveling internationally in the near future.

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Don't Be Greedy

My second flight (first of the second day) from Chicago to Nagoya was called a non-stop flight. And by non-stop, the good folks at United Airlines mean you'll be stopping in San Francisco to change planes, and generally fend for yourself. I'll get to that part in minute.

I awoke to a cacophony of alarms - if you remember I had set three to wake me so I wouldn't miss my flight. First came the mobile telephone alarm, which takes a few button presses to silence for good. Before I had that figured out, the hotel wake-up call chimed in further confusing my less than rested brain. As I started to come to, my watch fired off its alarm confirming to my brain that there was some reason I had to get up that morning. Ah yes, to catch a flight.

I got up, fixed my two complimentary cups of coffee and hopped in the shower. Cleaned and refreshed I quickly put down the first cup of coffee, and emptied the second cup into a standard paper "to go" cup provided by the hotel - a nice touch, packed up my stuff and checked out.

Back in the main area of the airport, I again went through security hoping for enough time to get some breakfast. I arrived to late at the hotel to catch dinner and left to early for breakfast, and the Clif Bars and Fig Newtons just weren't holding me over. No such luck. At some point I must have acquired a Starbucks coffee, because it's cup comes into play in the following story.

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Was that Necessary?

I boarded the flight to San Francisco with my Starbucks coffee, wishing it was fuller. Remembering that United serves the SB on their flights I felt at ease.

Once in the air, the flight attendants came around with the drink cart with their normal offerings. I asked politely for a coffee, and asked if I could have it in my own cup. The flight attendant quickly cut me down stating that she had to have enough for all of the passengers. I responded stating that I didn't like the foam cups because they tend to spill on me, and if she would put the same amount in my cup, I would appreciate it. She ignored my request, and when she brought my Styrofoam cup of coffee over she thrust it into my hand spilling a large amount onto my pants, book, iPod and all down my hand. I quickly held it over the aisle to avoid spilling more onto my lap, looked her in the eye and asked her "Was that really necessary?" She turned away as if nothing had just happened. Wench.

I poured the remaining contents into my own SB cup (complete with lid) and held the worthless Styrofoam cup waiting for it to dry. When the second flight attendant passed (you know how they work two to a cart), she noticed my empty cup and asked if I'd like another coffee. "Yes, that would be great" I said. I added that to my own cup and VOILA, a full cup. Take that you ornery bitch!

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The Wench Gets her Revenge

Later in the flight, the flight attendants came down the aisle collecting garbage and so on. As luck would have it, I got the ornery bitch again and as she reached over me to collect my neighbor's trash, she poured the backwash of someone else's Coke onto my lap. Without restraint, I fired off my response: "Are you fucking kidding me?" Taking pleasure in my sewer of a lap, she simply collected our cups and moved on. I don't know if I look like someone she doesn't like or the woman is just a royal bitch, but I did nothing to offend her other than boarding her flight. If the United attendants wore name tags I surely would have complained to the folks in charge upon my arrival in Japan.

United Airlines, if you're reading I was on Flight 831 (7:10 AM) out of Chicago on July 21st. I'll be happy to speak to customer service regarding my complaints.

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Non-Stop has a New Meaning

When we touched down in San Francisco, they informed us that we would be making a short stop to change planes. A short stop on a non-stop flight, gotcha. What they didn't tell us that they would not be directing us to our new plane. Our instructions were to inquire at the United desk at our gate for directions to the next flight. As luck would have it, that desk was unmanned.

I looked at the departures board and found my flight was boarding at Gate 100, check. Now, scanning the gate signs it became painfully obvious that the gates were numbered 1-96. Hmm, no gate 100. I wandered around aimlessly for a while until I came across a small sign reading something to the effect of "Transport to International Terminal". As I walked up to the sign, an international looking woman quickly walked up to me and ushered me off to an unmarked door, leading to some behind-the-scenes area. It was there that I boarded an unmarked bus with other international looking people, where we were shuttled off to the International Terminal. The whole thing was pretty shady, and I found it hard to believe that that's how they run their airport. Whatever, I found where I was supposed to be.

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A Pain in the Ass

The bulk of my flying was yet to come, and I boarded the last flight with a fear in my heart. You see, I was seated in the middle of 5 seats, in the front row, on a 9+ hour flight. My good fortune won out as I noticed there was a TON of leg room in the front row. I took my seat, whipped out a book and tried to get comfortable. Over the course of the flight the seat became less and less comfortable, to the point where I thought I'd have to have some sort of gluteus maximus surgery. My ass muscles (really, more like my hamstrings) were so sore by the end of the flight it hurt to both stand and sit. Killer.

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Whew, that's all I have for you right now. Thanks for listening, it gets MUCH better I assure you.


Over and Out,
Old Coot