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The day finally came. The day that we were set free from the barren, demoralizing, waste land that is Arlington Heights. Finally I could re-focus on something that both Emily and I had been looking forward to for over two months...moving to Brussels, Belgium.
We were ecstatic to find that our paperwork had been processed and shipped out to us this past Friday, which means that we were on the evening flight out on Monday after we received our passports and visas. The only problem now was to get our suitcases fully packed and ready to go. As always, we overpacked so that we have four giant suitcases around 70lbs each, while we each have a loaded backpack and a separate carryon. My carryon bag contains some heavy articles and my camera bag. The next step was getting through the worst part about traveling...the airport.
As you may know
United Airlines has merged with Continental to become the United States’ largest airline, which means they can now screw over their passengers with the slightest of ease. And, since Chicago's O’Hare airport is the hub for United we havefirst hand experience of how half-assed they really are now.
Upon entering the United terminal at O’Hare Emily said “let’s just go right here,” which was the international “economy” check-in. As surprising as this might be, Emily’s company changed their policy two years ago about business travel. Since this particular flight wasn’t over 10 hrs (including any layovers), Emily had to fly Coach, which she hasn’t had to do on any long flight yet. Welcome to International Cattle Class sweetheart. But, since Emily had Gold status with United we could check in with the Business and First Class line...but it was about 75 meters down and we were toting all that luggage, thus her idea to check in “right here.” Fortunately there was no line and we got up the electronic counter that was “manned” by a middle-aged women giving us the stank-eye all the way up to the counter. You could tell she was hoping that wouldn’t ask for help...but we wanted to ask a few questions; mainly because United F*cking Airlines changed their upgrade policy all of a sudden. It used to be that, if a seat in Business Class was available, you could use 15,000 miles to upgrade to business, but NOW, it’s 20,000 miles AND $500. Really? $500? That was indeed confirmed by the lady trying to help us; therefore, no upgrade for us.
Trying to get checked in required this lady to continually punch buttons for more than 5 minutes, apparently trying to locate Bin Laden, but who knows really. After getting Emily checked she then proceeded with a 10 minute button clicking escapade designed to find Gadaffi as well. Before we know it we get to the point of checking our huge bags. We put the heaviest on the scale and it’s a whopping 74lbs. The lady begins to tell us that the bag will costs $400 because it’s over 70lbs and that if we can get it to 70lbs by moving things around it will only cost $200. We move some stuff around and all of our bags are now between 65lbs and 70.5lbs. They begin to charge us $800...$200 for every bag over 50lbs (Another policy United changed for International flights about a year or so ago) Well, that is, until Emily points out that she’s a Gold member, which the check in lady could have easily noticed on her ticket, or the fact that Emily presented her Gold card upon check-in. I guess that would only have worked if the lady had actually picked it up and looked at it, but that still presumes literacy would have been part of the equation. Eventually they realized that, along with Gold status, Emily gets to check three bags of 70lbs or less without paying a fee.
Now one bag is left and is assigned to me, a mere “Silver” status member, which basically means I get to carry around a useless card and get free upgrades to “economy plus.” Therefore, she checks my bag, I pay $200, and she doesn’t put the “priority baggage” sticker on my bag. This is what happens next. I say “why didn’t you put a priority sticker on my bag” “because you aren’t a Gold member and you’re not flying business.” I reply “I understand, but why would you put them on my wife’s three bags and not mine?” “you’re not a Gold member.” Again I say, “I know, but you do realize that her bags will come out with all the other priority bags and we’ll both still have to wait on that one bag? So really you shouldn’t have put a sticker on any of them, which would make make the eventual endless wait on baggage in a foreign airport at least somewhat amusing when a bag actually makes it to our destination, as opposed to us standing there in discontent waiting on one single bag that should have come out with the rest?” Of course all I got was the ghetto Stank-Eye as if she shouldn’t be told how to do her job. Was I being an ass? Probably, but I have to admit that I WAS making a valid point...something that could have been adverted with a little “customer service.” But, I forgot, United did away with that policy a long time ago as well.
The final question Emily asked upon our departure of “Check-in Hell” was...”Can I access the Red Carpet Lounge with my Gold card even though we’re not flying Business Class.” And, of course, the reply was a few seconds of what appreared to be thought, but was really a faux pause for making up an answer..”Sorry, no, you can’t”
We immediately proceeded to the “express check-in line”...because Em has status and right before we walk in I notice that my mileage number isn’t on my ticket. That’s the fault of American Express, which Em’s company uses to book our tickets. But, that’s not a problem because it takes, literally, ten seconds for someone to fix. I walk back to the check in counter and found a young lady chatting with her friend. “Excuse me, I don’t have my mileage plus number on my ticket.” I handed her my card. “Can you please put it on my ticket.” After I said that I got the biggest stank eye, as if a friend with a bad gambling problem had just asked you for $500 right before the final four...for “bills.” (Sorry to inconvenience you from gossiping with your friends about “yo babby daddy,” I wouldn’t want you to lift a finger to help or anything.) Regardless, she took the 10 seconds out of her busy life to print out another ticket with 9 numbers on it.
As we walked through security and had our bags ripped apart by the TSA agent who saw a “black mass” in our bag; which is always true, because Em packs two square boxes of MBA prep flash cards, and that’s what they look like on the screen. Therefore, they took everything out of our carry-on, and began swabbing everything: our bags, Emily’s cards, our DVD’s, my hands, and Sancho’s ass. Yeah, they took my poor dog out of my camera bag and swabbed his ass, just in case he was packing explosives up there. After regaining his dignity, Sancho was back in his bag and we re-packed our bag, because this retard couldn’t do it, we eventually laughed at the whole situation, because,...what else can you do?
As soon as that was over I looked at Emily and told her that the moron that checked us in was wrong about the Red Carpet Lounge, and that, as a Gold Card member flying Economy, you can access the lounge on an international flight. The other perk of her status is that she get’s to bring a guest...Me. It’s happened before, after Em’s company made me start flying with the luggage that she can get into the lounge on her Business Class ticket, but since she was only “Silver” at the time...I had to stand outside and beg for change.
The lounge was the same...overly crowded so that you have to fight for a seat, but we had some time to look for apartments in Belgium and make some phone calls to the family. All was normal, even the boarding, which was flawless. The rest of the shenanigans that was our flight began after take-off.
After entering the plane we realized this 6ft 1 female was sitting in both of our seats. She was a basketball player, because I could tell by the huge ear phones she had on, plus the USA Basketball sweats and headband, as if she was prepping for a game. I’m assuming she didn’t think she could fit in one seat and felt the need to stretch out between two. As soon as we arrived she “realized” she was in the wrong seat, she got up and moved to the two seats in front of us. Why? Because we were sitting in the Emergency Exit Row, as was the row in front of us. So she was just floating around trying to find a bigger “leg room” seat. Granted we were all in “Economy Plus,” which means we have a few extra inches of leg room to begin with, but I’m just assuming that as a 6ft 1 “basketball” player she felt she needed “extra” room. I’m the same height, I could tell because we were the same height when she stood up...but the funny part is that I’ve never felt the urge to sprawl out or wander to different seats because I couldn’t fit. Uncomfortable, sure, in regular Economy, but this wasn’t the case, but maybe it was because I didn’t have giant headphones on to alter my geospatial awareness.
Before we lifted off the gay fight attendant chatted with Emily and I and he was a real pleasure to talk to: very funny, witty, and made us feel as though we were wanted aboard. After Emily had told him about her now having to fly coach instead of Business, because all of her company’s money is going to “Executive Bonuses” and the rest is used to put us in housing where we sleep on the floor, he felt sorry for us and brought us a cup of Champagne from “Business Class.” Yeah, they get Champagne in Business and “First Class.” I’m also wondering if, by me talking about this man’s kindness, that he’ll get reprimanded, I’m a little concerned; however, because we all know that you can act like a total bitch with United and not get fired, but I’m not sure it goes the other way.
Regardless...six hours into an eight hour flight and I’m pissed because I can’t sleep, which isn’t surprising. The seats are ridiculously uncomfortable. The worst part is that we’re in Economy Plus...extra leg room...add to that the leg room from sitting in an Emergency Exit and I can stretch out my legs as far as I want, but that’s doesn’t make any difference if your seat only reclines three freaking inches. All the leg room you want, but you still have to sleep upright like a homeless guy under an overpass. Needless to say, Em and I slept for about 20 minutes each, and we were lucky to get that, so after a few movies, which all suck because they’re on a 3 inch screen and we have to use headphones that cut out in one ear periodically every time something important happens. Perhaps this is why that Amazonian basketball lady wears headphones?......doubt it.
About an hour and a half before we land they give us some sort of breakfast...yogurt that explodes onto my shirt when I open it...like a...(I’d better not say), due to the pressure, and some banana bread...which I hate anyways...not their fault though. I got up to use the restroom, which was right in front of us, and I tucked my shirt back in, fixed my hair, and exited to see Emily sitting there with both bags of trash...a.k.a. our breakfast leftovers in her hand. I took them so she wouldn’t have to sit there holding them until they came by with the trash bag. I turned around in the direction of the front of the plane...right by the bathroom I just came out of, and I found a flight attendant at the end of the “Business Section.” I said, “Can I throw this away?” Normal question right? Hell NO, not on a United Flight!
She immediately flipped out on me, as if I had just ventured in to some high level security clearance level that immediately threatened national security. “WHAT,..NO, SOMEONE WILL....GET OUT OF HERE NOW, YOU CAN’T BE HERE!” (Verbatim, this is not a joke.) WHAT the hell just happened? She gave me another stank eye and I tucked my tail and made my way TWO (2) rows back, with my trash in hand, to sit, scolded, like the result of an Indian Caste System until I was prompted to throw my trash away. So in an effort to dispose of some trash I unintentionally let the terrorist win. Perhaps if I had a wet nap and asked if I could wash the scrotum of an executive business man in first or business class, they might, just might, let me past that fabled curtain....which I had just passed to use the bathroom a minute earlier, and give me the “status” to dispose of some trash instead of walking 15 rows back to my own “class” of trash can. I mean, if they had any idea on how much money they make off Em's company from purchasing full-fare, last minute, refundable, international, tickets, I think they'd make an exception...but seeing as how they can't get most of the meaningless tasks right...then I'm not at all surprised.
As much as Em and I love traveling...I absolutely despise flying...unless it’s on an Asian or Indian airline. They at least, for now, have a concept of what customer service is like.
Forward this to anyone who flies United...or who flies a lot, regardless of airline.
placement on each other’s cars...that’s how Europeans do it apparently, being rude is a way of life for most of them. When we first moved in we paid for, in addition to the ridiculously high rent, a parking spot in the garage below our building. So after the second day of work Emily pulls into the garage and someone has already parked in our assigned space, thus the only space available just happens to be the one space that makes getting into and out of extremely difficult. We contacted our “Business Apartment” housing manager from “Home In Brussels” and told them of our situation. He responded and said that space #1 was available and that we could park there. Problem solved...for a month at least.
your spot and you have no idea who’s car it is; however, using that language if very uncalled for and borderlines on douchebaggery...or a typical European attitude when they don’t get their way. Emily tells me not to go talk to them, because they left their apartment number, especially since there was a good chance I would reflect the amount of cynicism they directed toward me in a more of an angry “I don’t have time for this child’s play” attitude. So Emily goes to work, comes back and someone is again in our assigned spot so she parks in Space #1 AGAIN...because I told her to. I mean why not...we’ve been there a month in accord with the property manager’s instructions. Apparently once you get a “business apartment” in Brussels, which, if you rent anything less than a year, some crazy Belgian real-estate laws make it almost impossible to rent from anyone other than a high priced “Business Apartment” rental company, the property mangers stop caring what happens. We were trying to call and e-mail about the parking situation but still nothing.
under two hours away and many low cost airlines fly out of Brussels Charleroi to all over Europe...plus Belgium is the land of Beer, Chocolate, and the Mannekin Pis. Statues of little naked boys taking a piss are what make cities important you know. 
