I already knew this.
But I had no choice. United was the only airline that could get me to Maui on short notice for a reasonable price. I should of coughed up the extra six hundred bucks and gone with Continental.
Continental is great. So are those goofy folks over at Southwest. I spend a lot of time on Alaska Airlines too. Love them.
But United can suck last year’s used tampon.
My knee is still broken. I still can’t walk on it. When I checked in, they asked if I wanted a wheelchair. Uh, yes? That might be nice. The unhelpful bitch, I mean lady, who showed up was obviously annoyed to have to deal with me. She didn’t say a word to me unless absolutely necessary, and when she did, she said as few as possible.
Once we got to the gate, (LOVE being wheeled to the front of security) she wheeled me down the jet way. When we got about eight feet from the entrance to the plane, she stopped and stood next to me. I looked over at her. She was staring straight ahead silently. Well, OK, then. End of the line, I guess.
There was another bitch, I mean a flight attendant, standing in the entrance to the plane, watching as I struggled to get my backpack on while still seated in the wheelchair. Not easy. I asked bitch #1 if she would help carry my bag onto the plane. “No. I can’t get on the plane. FAA.” Well, OK. I can kind of, sort of, understand that, even though you work for the damn airline. Fine. “Well, can you ask that flight attendant if SHE will help me get my bag onto the plane?”
“I can’t ask her that. You have to ask her.” WHAT?!?! What the fuck?
So I asked bitch #2. “Sorry. I can’t get off the plane. FAA regulations.” So it’s against FAA regulations to help a crippled girl with her luggage? And why couldn’t bitch #1 wheel me closer to the plane? Why eight fucking feet away? Must be some sort of FAA regulation.
So I sat there and continued to struggle with my bag. I dropped a crutch on purpose, just to see if she would help me pick it up. Of course not. Sadly, I’m not making this up. You can’t make this shit up.
Finally hefted my bag onto my back and started hobbling down the aisle all the way to seat 34E. It was one of those huge planes, with five seats in the middle of the plane, so lots of flight attendants wandering around. Completely oblivious to the gimp on crutches. Finally, around row 19 or 20, an adorable little flight attendant came up to me and said, “Sweetie, do you want me to help you with your bag?”
Yes. Yes I do. She was a sweetheart. Her name was Mimi. United is lucky to have her.
But the rest of them? Fucking worthless. Nobody seemed to give a fuck about their job. The dude pushing the food cart was clearly bored out of his mind. “Something to eat?” “Well, what do you have?” He handed me a menu wordlessly and wandered off. When he wandered back my way, I flagged him down. “Oh. Did you want something?”
Remember bitch #2? An elderly man three rows in front of me tried to get her attention. “Miss, could you take this for me?” She looked aggravated. “Just hold on a minute, OK?” I wanted to punch her. Hard. Right in the face.
Sorry about that lady. I’m not allowed to let flight attendants abuse sweet old grandpas. FAA regulations…