If you read my blog, you probably know by now how long it took to get to Slovenia. The spouse and I both wrote out online complaints to Delta. The husband wrote his out in Atlanta. I didn't write mine until after I had scrubbed out my khakis in the sink with hotel soap because they were bloody and I didn't have any luggage.
So, what happens? My husband gets a reply first. Expected. Then they start sending him gift cards. Then they start sending him gift cards with my name on them.
It took a week for me to hear back from Delta. He heard back in about a day.
The email I eventually got said I would be getting $350 in gift cards. In reality, $200 in my name was sent to my husband's email account.
The survey for how Delta handled my complaint was sent to my husband's email account.
My husband continued to get gift card offers. He racked up $400.
The Delta email person said she could get me a refund for my hotel stay - $99. That came in today. It was addressed to:
My Name
c/o Husband's Name
Our Address, etc.
What the fuck! First you lie to me. Then you send all of my shit to my husband's email account, because I'm some kind of incompetent housewife. Then you mail me a check, but it's not really to me? I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. #DeltaSucks
Showing posts with label Delta Sucks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Delta Sucks. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Day 9: Heading Home
We had to leave at 5 am to get to the airport for our flight. This one was Adria Air, I think that's the Slovenian airlines. I somehow managed to set off the metal detector. I'm guessing it was all the metal in my bra. That's all I had. The plane ran about 15 minutes late, but that wasn't bad. The plane itself was one of those small ones, but it had plenty of legroom and room for our bags under the seat.
So, we got to Munich, and then had to take a bus to the terminal. We were in Terminal 2 (I think) and needed Terminal 1. The airport dude told me I could wait for the bus (about 15 minutes) or just walk it in 10 minutes. My feet felt okay, so we walked it.
Apparently, "walking it" meant leaving the security area. Because there was no other way that we could find to get between terminals in the secured area. Unless the bus did that.
So we walked and walked. There were some amazing looking restaurants along the way! We finally got to the terminal and the Delta counter was right there, so we went there. And the woman was like "Why did you come here if your luggage is already booked?" We said we were told to come here for our boarding passes, which is what the Adria guy had told us in Slovenia.
Then she had to ask us a lot of questions like "Who packed your bags? When were they packed? Has they been out of your possession? Did anyone ask you to carry anything?" Etc. I hadn't heard those in forever. In the US the airports play messages over and over telling you to keep track of your bags and stuff like that.
We finally got through our next security and then to our gate. This section was really a crappy little section of the airport with 1 cafe and 2 stores. The women's bathroom was up here, but Frank had to follow a bunch of signs downstairs and through several hallways to get to the men's room. Weird. And when I bought water and candy at the store, they had to scan my passport. Maybe for customs, like Duty Free? I'm still not sure why.
When we went to board, it was more questions. I was kind of confused. The woman asked me if I'd bought anything. I said yes, I bought water at the store. Then she asked if I'd received anything. I said, yes, the water I bought. I really hate questions like that, because I feel like they're supposed to be easy questions but I'm just not getting it. Am I thinking too much about them?
The flight back was on a 767, which mom hates, and I now understand why. The seats were small. Our bags barely fit under the seats, too. They fit fine on the tiny aircraft, but not the 767? The only thing good about this flight was the food. The flight attendants were nice, and I'm guessing since the only food source was Europe, they couldn't give us crappy food. We got several snacks. The main meal I had was chicken with rice and peppers in a nice sauce. The cheesy salad came with an olive oil-balsamic dressing. And they had bread and cheese.
They had fewer movies, which meant I couldn't finish watching the Lupin the Third movie I'd fallen asleep during on the flight out. Crap.
We got to Atlanta, and started the whole customs process. It's all electronic now and went fairly fast. Then I got some Chick-fil-a. Then we headed to our gate to eat and relax.
So, our flight was delayed 17 minutes. Then another 5 minutes or so. It gets here, we get on it, and head out to take off. But we can't take off. There's bad weather to the north. We're taking off to the east, but some of the planes in front of us in the line are taking off to the north. So we have to wait. And wait. I slept through most of this, until Frank poked me when the stewardess brought around snacks. Then back to sleep. Apparently we spent an hour in line. I didn't wake up until we were landing at XNA.
So, we're home, the dogs are home, and it's all good! I'll try to get pictures up later.
So, we got to Munich, and then had to take a bus to the terminal. We were in Terminal 2 (I think) and needed Terminal 1. The airport dude told me I could wait for the bus (about 15 minutes) or just walk it in 10 minutes. My feet felt okay, so we walked it.
Apparently, "walking it" meant leaving the security area. Because there was no other way that we could find to get between terminals in the secured area. Unless the bus did that.
So we walked and walked. There were some amazing looking restaurants along the way! We finally got to the terminal and the Delta counter was right there, so we went there. And the woman was like "Why did you come here if your luggage is already booked?" We said we were told to come here for our boarding passes, which is what the Adria guy had told us in Slovenia.
Then she had to ask us a lot of questions like "Who packed your bags? When were they packed? Has they been out of your possession? Did anyone ask you to carry anything?" Etc. I hadn't heard those in forever. In the US the airports play messages over and over telling you to keep track of your bags and stuff like that.
We finally got through our next security and then to our gate. This section was really a crappy little section of the airport with 1 cafe and 2 stores. The women's bathroom was up here, but Frank had to follow a bunch of signs downstairs and through several hallways to get to the men's room. Weird. And when I bought water and candy at the store, they had to scan my passport. Maybe for customs, like Duty Free? I'm still not sure why.
When we went to board, it was more questions. I was kind of confused. The woman asked me if I'd bought anything. I said yes, I bought water at the store. Then she asked if I'd received anything. I said, yes, the water I bought. I really hate questions like that, because I feel like they're supposed to be easy questions but I'm just not getting it. Am I thinking too much about them?
The flight back was on a 767, which mom hates, and I now understand why. The seats were small. Our bags barely fit under the seats, too. They fit fine on the tiny aircraft, but not the 767? The only thing good about this flight was the food. The flight attendants were nice, and I'm guessing since the only food source was Europe, they couldn't give us crappy food. We got several snacks. The main meal I had was chicken with rice and peppers in a nice sauce. The cheesy salad came with an olive oil-balsamic dressing. And they had bread and cheese.
They had fewer movies, which meant I couldn't finish watching the Lupin the Third movie I'd fallen asleep during on the flight out. Crap.
We got to Atlanta, and started the whole customs process. It's all electronic now and went fairly fast. Then I got some Chick-fil-a. Then we headed to our gate to eat and relax.
So, our flight was delayed 17 minutes. Then another 5 minutes or so. It gets here, we get on it, and head out to take off. But we can't take off. There's bad weather to the north. We're taking off to the east, but some of the planes in front of us in the line are taking off to the north. So we have to wait. And wait. I slept through most of this, until Frank poked me when the stewardess brought around snacks. Then back to sleep. Apparently we spent an hour in line. I didn't wake up until we were landing at XNA.
So, we're home, the dogs are home, and it's all good! I'll try to get pictures up later.
Sunday, May 17, 2015
DeltaSucks Update
You may remember my saga with DeltaSucks. Well, I filled out an online complaint in Paris, and I finally heard back from them. The gist of it is, We're so sorry. But they also sent me gifts. I just filled out the forms and hypothetically I should be getting a $50 and $150 Amazon gift cards in the mail. Huzzah! I'm still pretty mad but I'm slightly mollified. Only slightly. I'm still concerned about the trip home. The last time I flew DeltaSucks (before this trip) my luggage got home a day later than I did. And no one could tell me where it was until it showed up someplace.
Monday, May 11, 2015
Day 2: Delta Still Sucks
So, we sit around and finally our plane starts boarding. It started out fairly well. A young couple came up behind us and asked us what zone was boarding. We told them and then the guy asked where we were going. I told him and he said "Slovenia! I love Slovenia!" He started giving me tips and pointers from their trip there last year, and I knew most of the places he was talking about. Meanwhile, Frank and the girlfriend are giving each other glances, like "I'm traveling with a crazy, obsessive person." We talked all the way up to the airplane and then exchanged cards.
The seats were okay. I had a window, and Frank had the aisle, on the row in front of me, so the nice lady next to me agreed to switch seats with him. Then we got comfy and started watching movies.
I was in the middle of my first movie when the food was brought around. "What was it?" you ask. "Was it a choice of Chicken fricassee with cream sauce, mashed potatoes, and carrots or Penne pasta with salmon and creamed leeks? With sides of Quinoa salad with corn and black beans, Cheese wedge (Brie), Fruit compote, Coconut cake, Bread, and a small water?" Or perhaps it was "Chicken with lemon sauce, bulgur wheat, and vegetables OR Florentine 4-cheese tortellini, goat cheese, and tomato. With sides of tomatoes and zucchini, Camembert cheese, cherry tomatoes, bread, and chocolate mousse?" Like on my last transatlantic flights? No, it wasn't that, because I'm flying fucking Delta and they Suck.
We had a choice of beef, pasta, or shrimp salad. I took the beef, because I needed protein, and I've seen the movie Airplane too many times. Frank took the shrimp salad. My beef was basically small, sometimes tenderized, pieces of stew meat with maybe turnips or parsnips or both. It wasn't potatoes. There was an iceberg salad with 3 cucumbers and ranch dressing - blech! A piece of bread that was okay, but nothing special. And butter and some crackers.
The shrimp salad looked better. It was 4 shrimp on a salad, with a tiny bottle of olive oil vinaigrette. The same bread and butter, but a "side salad" of kiwi, grapes, etc. Cheese, and a brownie. My lovely husband took pity on me and gave me the brownie! It wasn't bad.
After that, I started watching another movie, but only made it through about 30 minutes before I had to pause it and I passed out. I was wiped.
I woke up about 90 minutes from Paris. They decided to bring us breakfast. Because on the east coast, it was about breakfast time. Never mind that it was lunch time in Europe. The foreign airlines always serve food for the time zone you're going to. But I guess Delta can't do that because 'Murica!
Breakfast was a disappointment as well. It was a tiny, hot croissant, shmushed, with a tiny omelet inside it. It didn't taste bad, but it was maybe 2" in diameter. There was a pack of tiny "bruschetta" pieces and some kind of cheese spread, an orange juice, and a granola bar. Oh, and a mint.
They came around with drinks after that, so I got tea. It was so bitter and nasty I had to add 2 packs of sugar to it, to make it drinkable, and I still couldn't finish it. It is not that hard to make tea, people! The Brit do it several times a day!
By now, Frank has gotten a small migraine. So after we land, we wait for almost everyone to get off and then make our way through customs and to the baggage claim. Where we wait. And wait. Until the belt stops. No bag. So we go to the Baggage Desk. The Delta guy in Atlanta had told me that he was sending my bag to Paris, and I could collect it there and then re-check it the next day for the flight to Slovenia. Apparently, that wasn't what happened. My bag made it to Paris, and since I had a continuing flight, it was put in the transit section to get put on my plane tomorrow. So, no shower and new clothes for me!
We're walking to the hotel shuttles and stop for a restroom break. This next section may be too gross for some people. I've been PMSy, so I was expecting to start my period soon. Apparently, I started it before the plane landed, and bled through my underwear and onto my khaki pants. So now I'm stuck in Paris with bloody pants and sweaty clothes. Luckily I carry a change of underwear with me on flights. I know this technically isn't Delta's fault, but the lack of clothing is, so I'm blaming them. Fuck you Delta! I hope I bled on your seat.
We finally get outside and wait on the shuttle bus. That only took about 15 minutes. Another 15 and we're at our hotel. Everything goes great, we get up to our room, and it's hot as hell. I guess the ACs are off until you check into your room. So we've had the AC on for over and hour and it's just starting to cool off. I went to the pub and grabbed a sandwich, which was really good! And I paid 4 euros for a freaking coke, but I wanted something sweet and cold.
Frank is napping and I'm typing, then I'm going to try and clean my clothes off and let them dry before we leave in the morning. Wish me luck!
Oh yeah, one more thing. Delta sucks!!!
#DeltaSucks
The seats were okay. I had a window, and Frank had the aisle, on the row in front of me, so the nice lady next to me agreed to switch seats with him. Then we got comfy and started watching movies.
I was in the middle of my first movie when the food was brought around. "What was it?" you ask. "Was it a choice of Chicken fricassee with cream sauce, mashed potatoes, and carrots or Penne pasta with salmon and creamed leeks? With sides of Quinoa salad with corn and black beans, Cheese wedge (Brie), Fruit compote, Coconut cake, Bread, and a small water?" Or perhaps it was "Chicken with lemon sauce, bulgur wheat, and vegetables OR Florentine 4-cheese tortellini, goat cheese, and tomato. With sides of tomatoes and zucchini, Camembert cheese, cherry tomatoes, bread, and chocolate mousse?" Like on my last transatlantic flights? No, it wasn't that, because I'm flying fucking Delta and they Suck.
We had a choice of beef, pasta, or shrimp salad. I took the beef, because I needed protein, and I've seen the movie Airplane too many times. Frank took the shrimp salad. My beef was basically small, sometimes tenderized, pieces of stew meat with maybe turnips or parsnips or both. It wasn't potatoes. There was an iceberg salad with 3 cucumbers and ranch dressing - blech! A piece of bread that was okay, but nothing special. And butter and some crackers.
The shrimp salad looked better. It was 4 shrimp on a salad, with a tiny bottle of olive oil vinaigrette. The same bread and butter, but a "side salad" of kiwi, grapes, etc. Cheese, and a brownie. My lovely husband took pity on me and gave me the brownie! It wasn't bad.
After that, I started watching another movie, but only made it through about 30 minutes before I had to pause it and I passed out. I was wiped.
I woke up about 90 minutes from Paris. They decided to bring us breakfast. Because on the east coast, it was about breakfast time. Never mind that it was lunch time in Europe. The foreign airlines always serve food for the time zone you're going to. But I guess Delta can't do that because 'Murica!
Breakfast was a disappointment as well. It was a tiny, hot croissant, shmushed, with a tiny omelet inside it. It didn't taste bad, but it was maybe 2" in diameter. There was a pack of tiny "bruschetta" pieces and some kind of cheese spread, an orange juice, and a granola bar. Oh, and a mint.
They came around with drinks after that, so I got tea. It was so bitter and nasty I had to add 2 packs of sugar to it, to make it drinkable, and I still couldn't finish it. It is not that hard to make tea, people! The Brit do it several times a day!
By now, Frank has gotten a small migraine. So after we land, we wait for almost everyone to get off and then make our way through customs and to the baggage claim. Where we wait. And wait. Until the belt stops. No bag. So we go to the Baggage Desk. The Delta guy in Atlanta had told me that he was sending my bag to Paris, and I could collect it there and then re-check it the next day for the flight to Slovenia. Apparently, that wasn't what happened. My bag made it to Paris, and since I had a continuing flight, it was put in the transit section to get put on my plane tomorrow. So, no shower and new clothes for me!
We're walking to the hotel shuttles and stop for a restroom break. This next section may be too gross for some people. I've been PMSy, so I was expecting to start my period soon. Apparently, I started it before the plane landed, and bled through my underwear and onto my khaki pants. So now I'm stuck in Paris with bloody pants and sweaty clothes. Luckily I carry a change of underwear with me on flights. I know this technically isn't Delta's fault, but the lack of clothing is, so I'm blaming them. Fuck you Delta! I hope I bled on your seat.
We finally get outside and wait on the shuttle bus. That only took about 15 minutes. Another 15 and we're at our hotel. Everything goes great, we get up to our room, and it's hot as hell. I guess the ACs are off until you check into your room. So we've had the AC on for over and hour and it's just starting to cool off. I went to the pub and grabbed a sandwich, which was really good! And I paid 4 euros for a freaking coke, but I wanted something sweet and cold.
Frank is napping and I'm typing, then I'm going to try and clean my clothes off and let them dry before we leave in the morning. Wish me luck!
Oh yeah, one more thing. Delta sucks!!!
#DeltaSucks
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Day 1: Delta Sucks
The day started off inauspiciously enough. We were packed ahead of time. I did some last minute vacuuming to get rid of the gigantic piles of dog hair that perpetually live at our house. I even got a nice drive to the airport from my friend Eunice, of the Village Chauffeur. Then it went wrong.
We got to the airport around 10:45 am. There was no line for Delta, so we went right up and got our boarding passes and made it through security relatively quickly. I was reading the current book for my book club, when the guy behind me got a text and said "The flight's delayed."
A few minutes later the gate person announced that because of the storm we had just had (which was bad but brief, maybe 15 minutes) the pilot had gotten low on fuel and had to divert to Memphis. Say what? It was an hour away. She said he should be back in about an hour.
Well, one hour turned into 2 hours. Which was our exact layover time in Atlanta. I talked to the gate agent and she said if we missed the connection, the next flight we could get on was at 5:45 pm, the next day. Joy.
We waited. The damn plane finally made it back and everyone got off. Including the 1 flight attendant who had to use the bathroom. So we spent several minutes waiting for her to finish and get back so we could board.
We finally take off. The flight was uneventful. The flight attendant was nice. We told her the situation, and several other people were in the same boat, so when we landed at 5:30, she asked people to remain seated so we could get off the plane first.
Thus commenced almost 10 minutes of waiting for the gate agent to get in the fucking jetway and attach it to the plane. The flight attendant said the plane-checked bags were already out, so we should be okay. But we weren't. It took another 5 minutes for someone to open the pulldown door where the checked bags were supposed to be, and then actually unload the checked bags.
While Frank waited on his bag, I ran to the desk by the gate and asked about our next flight. The woman looked it up on her computer and said it was at gate F1 and it was running late and wouldn't depart until 6:10. Huzzah!
We grab our stuff and hustle down the concourse - of course we were at the very end. We catch the train to F, go up 2 escalators, and then have to hustle down to the end of that concourse. Which is when we see our plane about 50 feet away from the jetway, leaving. And it was at gate F3. I asked some airport guys there if that was our plane, could we get it back, and they were like "Duh? We're not Delta people." At this point, it was 5:50 pm.
I go down to F1 which now shows an Air France flight, and ask there. That flight was a different flight, and we were told to go to the red help desk. We went there, and after a long, long, long time, the guy helping us finally got our tickets changed from Air France, to a Delta flight leaving later this evening. So we'll get to Paris in the afternoon, then spend the night, because there's only 1 flight a day to Slovenia, and it's in the morning.
Fuck! If Delta wasn't incompetent, we would have made our flight, even being 2 hours late!
By this point, we were both red and completely drenched in sweat from our run. We walked back to the terminal to find some food, but it was either pricey, packed, or just looked icky. I checked a directory and we ended up going back to C to eat at the Atlanta Bread Company. I was getting a caffeine headache by then, and starving, since I hadn't really eaten since breakfast and it was now after 6pm.
After that, we headed back to F concourse. Only to discover that since we were flying an actual Delta jet, it was at E concourse. So we head there. I eventually got hooked up to Wifi and tweeted angrily @Delta for a while. Then I started looking for hotels near Charles De Gaulle airport.
About 8pm Frank needed some caffeine. There's a big food court and coffee shop at the front end of this concourse, so he went there. It was closed. There was a woman at the coffee shop and he said "Is there anywhere in this pesthole of an airport where I can get coffee?" She said "F concourse." Of course.
So he's on a quest for coffee while I blog and watch our bags. At least we'll be overnighting in Paris. Le sigh.
We got to the airport around 10:45 am. There was no line for Delta, so we went right up and got our boarding passes and made it through security relatively quickly. I was reading the current book for my book club, when the guy behind me got a text and said "The flight's delayed."
A few minutes later the gate person announced that because of the storm we had just had (which was bad but brief, maybe 15 minutes) the pilot had gotten low on fuel and had to divert to Memphis. Say what? It was an hour away. She said he should be back in about an hour.
Well, one hour turned into 2 hours. Which was our exact layover time in Atlanta. I talked to the gate agent and she said if we missed the connection, the next flight we could get on was at 5:45 pm, the next day. Joy.
We waited. The damn plane finally made it back and everyone got off. Including the 1 flight attendant who had to use the bathroom. So we spent several minutes waiting for her to finish and get back so we could board.
We finally take off. The flight was uneventful. The flight attendant was nice. We told her the situation, and several other people were in the same boat, so when we landed at 5:30, she asked people to remain seated so we could get off the plane first.
Thus commenced almost 10 minutes of waiting for the gate agent to get in the fucking jetway and attach it to the plane. The flight attendant said the plane-checked bags were already out, so we should be okay. But we weren't. It took another 5 minutes for someone to open the pulldown door where the checked bags were supposed to be, and then actually unload the checked bags.
While Frank waited on his bag, I ran to the desk by the gate and asked about our next flight. The woman looked it up on her computer and said it was at gate F1 and it was running late and wouldn't depart until 6:10. Huzzah!
We grab our stuff and hustle down the concourse - of course we were at the very end. We catch the train to F, go up 2 escalators, and then have to hustle down to the end of that concourse. Which is when we see our plane about 50 feet away from the jetway, leaving. And it was at gate F3. I asked some airport guys there if that was our plane, could we get it back, and they were like "Duh? We're not Delta people." At this point, it was 5:50 pm.
I go down to F1 which now shows an Air France flight, and ask there. That flight was a different flight, and we were told to go to the red help desk. We went there, and after a long, long, long time, the guy helping us finally got our tickets changed from Air France, to a Delta flight leaving later this evening. So we'll get to Paris in the afternoon, then spend the night, because there's only 1 flight a day to Slovenia, and it's in the morning.
Fuck! If Delta wasn't incompetent, we would have made our flight, even being 2 hours late!
By this point, we were both red and completely drenched in sweat from our run. We walked back to the terminal to find some food, but it was either pricey, packed, or just looked icky. I checked a directory and we ended up going back to C to eat at the Atlanta Bread Company. I was getting a caffeine headache by then, and starving, since I hadn't really eaten since breakfast and it was now after 6pm.
After that, we headed back to F concourse. Only to discover that since we were flying an actual Delta jet, it was at E concourse. So we head there. I eventually got hooked up to Wifi and tweeted angrily @Delta for a while. Then I started looking for hotels near Charles De Gaulle airport.
About 8pm Frank needed some caffeine. There's a big food court and coffee shop at the front end of this concourse, so he went there. It was closed. There was a woman at the coffee shop and he said "Is there anywhere in this pesthole of an airport where I can get coffee?" She said "F concourse." Of course.
So he's on a quest for coffee while I blog and watch our bags. At least we'll be overnighting in Paris. Le sigh.
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