I have been a heavy traveler now for about seven years. In all of that time, and all of those flights, I have never successfully attained a voucher from an airline. And, believe me, I have tried. These past two weeks, however, my luck has finally turned. I hit the jackpot!
Last weekend, on my way back from Grand Rapids, my flight from Detroit to Pittsburgh was oversold on Northwest. They announced a need for volunteers to give up their seat for a $300 voucher. Problem was, they wanted the volunteers to fly into Latrobe, which is a tiny little airport about 60 miles south of Pittsburgh. My car, not surprisingly, was parked in Pittsburgh, so I needed to end up there. I also needed that $300 voucher. (Okay, well, "wanted" is a better word. I did not really need it.) Anyway, I jumped on the web and got a quote to rent a car from the ONE rental agency in the Latrobe airport. $92 to rent one way. So, armed with this knowledge, I approached the counter agents again, as they were getting frantic. It was the end of boarding and many people were standing around trying to get in on the flight... I told them what it would cost me to rent a car and I asked for a $400 voucher. "No problem," she said, so quickly that I thought maybe I could have bargained for even more. But I was satisfied, and I took my $400 voucher and my flight to the beautiful Latrobe airport, where they have two gates and one TSA agent. I had a lovely drive back to the Pittsburgh, and was about two hours late arriving home. I considered myself lucky.
And then, the unprecedented happened. On my very next flight, I lucked out again! This was on Thursday, my flight to San Jose through Dallas on American. My first flight was overbooked, and they were offering $200 vouchers. I was planning on trying the negotiating thing again, so I went up to the desk to ask how much later I would be getting into San Jose if they could get me on another flight. And, to my surprise, rerouted, I would arrive two hours earlier than originally scheduled. Having no bargaining leg to stand on, and still feeling quite lucky, I took the buy out and headed over to my other flight, $200 voucher in hand.
On the tarmac, I called my husband and left a message, "Hey, honey, check your vacation days, we're going to Florida!" Of course, I will be flying American with one kid and he will be flying Northwest with the other kid, but, by golly, we are going to Disneyland!
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
It's fun when you run into someone you know on the road...
I am staying at the Holiday Inn Express in Grandville, MI. The hotel is booked solid, mostly families with school-age boys. Unfortunately, not one of them is a smart, nerdy Botball kid (or a "Botballer" as they like to refer to themselves.) There is either some regional sporting event in town, or the tourism business is bigger than I expected in Grandville. Maybe its the new Rivertown Mall just down the road. It does have a Kohls actually IN the mall.
Anyway, this morning, I did my 20 minutes in the workout center, which is an old broom closet with two treadmills, one ellipse machine, and one mirrored wall to make it appear spacious. On my way to my room, I walked through the lobby area filled with families enjoying the continental breakfast which is cleverly marketed as a "stay smart breakfast"; the difference being sticky buns and sausage circles under orange warming lights added to the standard fare. I passed on the breakfast and decided to get a cup of coffee. I stood behind two other people, who were taking their time with the coffee bar, deciding between caffeinated or decaffeinated. (I think the confusion stemmed from the fact that there was one urn clearly marked decaffeinated coffee and yet two others had the ambiguous label "European Blend.") As I patiently waited behind the debaters, I looked around the crowded room and spotted Cheryl. She was standing by herself looking through the glass wall into the pool area. Mostly I was struck dumb, what the heck was my cousin doing here? And, where exactly was here? I couldn't remember which random city I was staying in at the moment... "Pittsburgh? no. Oklahoma? no. Michigan? ah, ha! That's it! Grandville, MI!" Then I started working through the reasons Cheryl would be in Grandville. I conceived no reason her employer, the Cleveland Browns, would send her here, so I decided it must be that mall. Then I thought, still staring open mouthed at her, "But, would she fly here? Drive? From Cleveland, it must have been like 5 hours. Hmm... totally driveable." I guess it kind of made sense that my cousin would be staying at the Holiday Inn Express, shopping at the Rivertown Mall with her family. I stared a little longer, just to confirm it was her, and it was. No doubt. I wondered what I should say to her.
Finally the folks in front of me had poured their coffee and were finishing up their creamer debate. They moved towards the sweetening station, to determine between packets of sugar, Sweet-n-Low, or Equal. This was going to take awhile. So I took advantage of the space left in front of the urns and grabbed a half cup of coffee (Eurpoean Blend for me).
I spontaneously decided I'd surprise her, and I imagined the reunion scene in front of all these strangers. That would be something to remember! So, with cup in hand, I turned, ready to shock my cousin. "Cheryl!" I called from across the room. A few people turned my way, but not her. I figured she was trying to get her husband Chris's attention from the pool. "Hey, cousin! Cheryl!" I called again, louder this time, and nearly everyone paused in their chewing to look at me. Everyone except her, of course. Either that wasn't my cousin Cheryl, or she was hard of hearing. And I just knew it was her. So I abandoned my calls and, ignoring the strange looks people were giving me, I walked around a few tables until I was standing just about ten feet away from her, further along the glass wall. I figured I would look for Chris, too, to give him a surprise. I didn't see him in the tiny little pool, nor their son Garrett. But I kept looking, just like her, expecting them to emerge any second from the sea of bodies pressed into the small pool. Then, suddenly she turned to me and said casually, "Hey, what are you doing here?" I smiled and turned, trying to think of a casual, funny response, when she added, "I thought you were in the pool." Then a young, taller-than-Garrett-boy stepped around me and up to her. She hugged him. He did not have a swimsuit on, nor was he wet; but worse, he wasn't even Garrett. And, therefore, by extension, this wasn't my cousin Cheryl! I turned and fled. Headed straight to my room without looking back.
Back in my room, I felt like a fool. Obviously this woman was not my cousin, and I must have imagined the resemblance. It was all in my head, and I made an ass of myself. I put it out of my mind, and packed up my suitcase. At the checkout counter, I saw Cheryl again, talking with a group of women at one of the tables. The room was empty this time, except for these five women. Again I stared unabashed because it was undoubtedly her, my cousin. Why was she ignoring me this way? She made me feel ridiculous! Worked up, I marched to the group at the table, and they all stared at me, their conversation petering out with a, "that's exactly what I told him, too, Laura..." This last piece coming from another woman directed at Cheryl. Then in silence, Cheryl/Laura met my eyes. Not even a spark of recognition in them, just confusion. And suddenly I felt ridiculous. I mumbled, "Oh, hey, um, yeah.." to the expectant group, "breakfast is over, then..." And I turned to walk away, through the front door, and into my car, astonished once more. That Cheryl, she is a good actress.
Anyway, this morning, I did my 20 minutes in the workout center, which is an old broom closet with two treadmills, one ellipse machine, and one mirrored wall to make it appear spacious. On my way to my room, I walked through the lobby area filled with families enjoying the continental breakfast which is cleverly marketed as a "stay smart breakfast"; the difference being sticky buns and sausage circles under orange warming lights added to the standard fare. I passed on the breakfast and decided to get a cup of coffee. I stood behind two other people, who were taking their time with the coffee bar, deciding between caffeinated or decaffeinated. (I think the confusion stemmed from the fact that there was one urn clearly marked decaffeinated coffee and yet two others had the ambiguous label "European Blend.") As I patiently waited behind the debaters, I looked around the crowded room and spotted Cheryl. She was standing by herself looking through the glass wall into the pool area. Mostly I was struck dumb, what the heck was my cousin doing here? And, where exactly was here? I couldn't remember which random city I was staying in at the moment... "Pittsburgh? no. Oklahoma? no. Michigan? ah, ha! That's it! Grandville, MI!" Then I started working through the reasons Cheryl would be in Grandville. I conceived no reason her employer, the Cleveland Browns, would send her here, so I decided it must be that mall. Then I thought, still staring open mouthed at her, "But, would she fly here? Drive? From Cleveland, it must have been like 5 hours. Hmm... totally driveable." I guess it kind of made sense that my cousin would be staying at the Holiday Inn Express, shopping at the Rivertown Mall with her family. I stared a little longer, just to confirm it was her, and it was. No doubt. I wondered what I should say to her.
Finally the folks in front of me had poured their coffee and were finishing up their creamer debate. They moved towards the sweetening station, to determine between packets of sugar, Sweet-n-Low, or Equal. This was going to take awhile. So I took advantage of the space left in front of the urns and grabbed a half cup of coffee (Eurpoean Blend for me).
I spontaneously decided I'd surprise her, and I imagined the reunion scene in front of all these strangers. That would be something to remember! So, with cup in hand, I turned, ready to shock my cousin. "Cheryl!" I called from across the room. A few people turned my way, but not her. I figured she was trying to get her husband Chris's attention from the pool. "Hey, cousin! Cheryl!" I called again, louder this time, and nearly everyone paused in their chewing to look at me. Everyone except her, of course. Either that wasn't my cousin Cheryl, or she was hard of hearing. And I just knew it was her. So I abandoned my calls and, ignoring the strange looks people were giving me, I walked around a few tables until I was standing just about ten feet away from her, further along the glass wall. I figured I would look for Chris, too, to give him a surprise. I didn't see him in the tiny little pool, nor their son Garrett. But I kept looking, just like her, expecting them to emerge any second from the sea of bodies pressed into the small pool. Then, suddenly she turned to me and said casually, "Hey, what are you doing here?" I smiled and turned, trying to think of a casual, funny response, when she added, "I thought you were in the pool." Then a young, taller-than-Garrett-boy stepped around me and up to her. She hugged him. He did not have a swimsuit on, nor was he wet; but worse, he wasn't even Garrett. And, therefore, by extension, this wasn't my cousin Cheryl! I turned and fled. Headed straight to my room without looking back.
Back in my room, I felt like a fool. Obviously this woman was not my cousin, and I must have imagined the resemblance. It was all in my head, and I made an ass of myself. I put it out of my mind, and packed up my suitcase. At the checkout counter, I saw Cheryl again, talking with a group of women at one of the tables. The room was empty this time, except for these five women. Again I stared unabashed because it was undoubtedly her, my cousin. Why was she ignoring me this way? She made me feel ridiculous! Worked up, I marched to the group at the table, and they all stared at me, their conversation petering out with a, "that's exactly what I told him, too, Laura..." This last piece coming from another woman directed at Cheryl. Then in silence, Cheryl/Laura met my eyes. Not even a spark of recognition in them, just confusion. And suddenly I felt ridiculous. I mumbled, "Oh, hey, um, yeah.." to the expectant group, "breakfast is over, then..." And I turned to walk away, through the front door, and into my car, astonished once more. That Cheryl, she is a good actress.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Travel Queen... Schmravel queen...
I have been across the US many times over, with kids, with husband, with coworkers, and alone. I have developed some helpful travel habits along the way and I am always searching for new ones. Moreover, I really enjoy traveling, especially with the family. So I have kind of dubbed myself "travel queen," (somewhat in jest and in private only). I admit that I do not travel as much as some people, but when it comes to my kids, I definitely consider myself well-traveled, sometimes even the "travel queen." So imagine my surprise when I was slapped in the face with the cold, hard truth last Wednesday at 5:40am. I am, indeed, NOT the travel queen. I know this because I saw the real travel queen up close and in person, with her royal travel family. I was in awe. I first spied them in the parking shuttle across from me, this cute little family. They had gotten out of their parked car and onto the shuttle bus: a young father, mother, and a little 8 or 9 month old boy. The father carried the little boy and the mother carried her medium sized purse/diaper bag and one suitcase. Yes, ONE suitcase. It wasn't one of those huge suitcases that you have to weigh in the bathroom after you are done packing to make sure you are under the 50 pound limit, either. It was a small, carry-on suitcase, and not stuffed to burst. I looked back and forth between them trying to comprehend the situation- two grown adults and a baby traveling with one, ONE suitcase. I stared openly in fascination and awe. I wanted to speak to them, confirm that they were real, but my jaw hung open and I was completely tongue-tied. How could I, a mere travel serf speak to the royal family of travel? I imagined myself engaging them in conversation, they looked friendly enough (even at 5:40am)... "Hello, what a beautiful little boy, and so well behaved this early in the morning. I couldn't help noticing that your entire family is traveling with only one suitcase, and a small one at that. I admire your preparation and confidence, you obviously know a lot more about traveling with babies than I do. But, really, I can't help wondering where is the rest of your luggage? Where are the baby toys for the plane and the extra diapers and the books, the chewy snacks for air pressure changes, the frozen snacks, the portable DVD player with headsets and your computer and extra changes of clothes and your swimsuits, just in case, and your toiletries and ear plugs and stroller and pack-n-play and carseat?? Where on earth are you going that you only need ONE bag? ONE LOUSY BAG? What is in there anyway?!?"
Instead of speaking, however, I rationalized. Obviously the father and son were taking mommy to the airport and seeing her off, which is why they parked the car. And they parked in extended parking only because they weren't savvy enough to know the difference between hourly and long-term rates. Yes, that was it. I mollified myself with the thought that after daddy and baby waved bye-bye to mommy, they would ride back in the same shuttle and have to pay $7.25 for parking. I even smiled a little to myself. I dragged my bulging suitcase off the shuttle, checked in and shuffled through security. Moments later, while being patted down by the female TSA guard (avoid baggy sweatshirts in the security line), I saw them again. All three members of the beautiful family breezing through the airport, yards past the security checkpoint, home-printed boarding passes in hand. The prince was once again in the arms of the king as the queen walked briskly beside them, rolling the royal suitcase.
Instead of speaking, however, I rationalized. Obviously the father and son were taking mommy to the airport and seeing her off, which is why they parked the car. And they parked in extended parking only because they weren't savvy enough to know the difference between hourly and long-term rates. Yes, that was it. I mollified myself with the thought that after daddy and baby waved bye-bye to mommy, they would ride back in the same shuttle and have to pay $7.25 for parking. I even smiled a little to myself. I dragged my bulging suitcase off the shuttle, checked in and shuffled through security. Moments later, while being patted down by the female TSA guard (avoid baggy sweatshirts in the security line), I saw them again. All three members of the beautiful family breezing through the airport, yards past the security checkpoint, home-printed boarding passes in hand. The prince was once again in the arms of the king as the queen walked briskly beside them, rolling the royal suitcase.
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