Nothing profound to report today. Just this: I hate US Airways. Every time I have to fly with them, I regret it. When I first moved to the desert and had to fly America West, just pre-merger, it was okay. The flights were competent and the people were nice. Now, though, it's always a mess. I've had occasions when I've had to change a flight, and it's taken close to a half-hour for the kiosk-itarian to make the change--even when it was exactly the same flight but a day earlier. And, of course, it always cost me a hundred bucks. There was one time when the woman told me that it was going to cost me fifteen hundred bucks to change from flight X on Wednesday to flight X on Tuesday, but I laughed so hard that she got embarrassed and made it go away. In fact, I was able to avoid the hundred dollar charge once, when the kiosk-itarian couldn't figure out how to enter the charge...even with three other gnomes helping her.
Today I'm trying to go to Fresno, which should be punishment enough. As of right now, I've made it as far as Phoenix. My flight out has been delayed by 90 minutes. No explanation of why. Suddenly, we're told that the inbound plane has been downgraded to something smaller, and that more than 20 passengers will have to get bumped. Then, ten minutes later, the woman at the podium comes on to tell us that she has now been informed that the plane was not downgraded. She has marched off to find out what the real deal is. Meanwhile, 20 or more people wonder whether they're leaving Phoenix tonight.
A return flight home is loading immediately to my left. I'm sorely tempted to take it. If a bunch of allegedly fresh-faced and eager summer school teachers near Fresno weren't expecting me to train them on a math course tomorrow morning, I'd do it.
But you know how it is. One can't let the kids down