United... in efforts to make you suffer for flying

I generally have a "no drama" rule for my life and have had a pretty good run of drama-free years. United Airlines recently ended that run in stellar fashion. I've put off writing it all down because doing so requires reliving the anger, frustration and lack of caring we dealt with from the airline.

On a side note, the drama aversion is reason #71 why I will never be a reality TV star. Other entries on that particular list include #29: inability to have a drink-throwing slap fest in a restaurant with new "frien-emies" (see every Real Housewives and Basketball Wives show ever) and #64: reluctance to refer to myself in the third person unless doing it in a very self-aware way as a joke. That aside, Natasha thinks you should read here is the United Airlines saga.

In August, I took the kids to visit friends - including my college roommate - in Denver. They'd never met Dylan, and Ava was barely talking the last time we went. Her husband remarked how verbal and polite Ava was now. I told Jason, who replied, “Then the beatings are working.” 

It's amazing that she was polite at all considering the ordeal we endured in getting there for the visit. Since I was traveling alone with two small kids, I opted for an early morning, direct flight in hopes that they might continue sleeping once we boarded and that we would get there as quickly as possible.

Because trying to keep a three year old and barely-verbal 20 month old occupied in an enclosed space is exhausting. It reminds me of an "Are you ready for children?" checklist I read once that suggested good practice for wrangling small childen is to try to stuff an octopus in to a mesh bag. Having now traveled with kids a few times on planes, trains and in automobiles, I would only amend that to make it "an octopus on meth."

How early is "early"?

Knowing the drill, we arrived 95 minutes early to check in and found a line of at least 75-100 people waiting to use the check-in kiosks at Seatac Airport which have replaced the old guys who used to allow you to check in curbside. I later learned the new kiosks were being staffed by a skeleton crew missing three staff, plus a "supervisor" (Joan) who was apparently tasked with telling new arrivals to the mayhem where to go (incorrectly), then castigating them for going where she told them.

As the minutes ticked by, I watched the line barely inch along as an overhead ticker warned that you needed to be checked in at least 45 minutes before your flight in order to board. Seeing the confusion around me, I knew it would be close. 55 minutes later, I made it to a kiosk and hurriedly shoved my card in for verification. It was rejected. I'd missed the cutoff by one minute.

When I asked a staffer what to do, she pointed me to the frazzled supervisor, saying, "You have to talk to her." I was joined at this point by a visually impaired woman whose friend had dropped her off in line just behind us when we arrived. She too had missed the cutoff and needed help.

Joan the supervisor offered none, too busy sending people to the far end of the line and trying to help the few staffers at the counter. Finally, after the other traveler and I followed her around for five minutes waiting to get a word in, I explained what had happened and she told us, "You'll have to be rebooked. You should have been here two hours early. Go stand in that line," she said, gesturing to the one that began at the far end of the check-in counters and that was already made up of people slumped on their bags in defeat.

Once there, I called United Customer Service for help. After 16 minutes on hold, I relayed the supervisor's two hour recommendation. Overhearing this, one of the other people in line said, "That wouldn't have helped. We WERE here two hours early and you see we're still here!" 

Tail end of line snaking through check-in area

Later, the supervisor came and angrily griped at me for standing in the line she'd sent me to, saying it was the wrong one. She didn't seem to notice that she'd sent several of us to that line. As she turned away, Ava looked up at me and said, "That lady was talking to us kind of crazy." People in line around us snickered. "She's got that right," one agreed. When a three year old can recognize that she's not being treated very nicely, it's pretty telling.

Supervisors conferring on the mess in their midst

As we waited, we turned as a military veteran became loud near the front of the line. He too was on the verge of missing his flight, apparently for the second time in two days, after being given incorrect information by the staff, driving home, returning and finding the same mess at the check-in counters.

I finally reached the counter again and was re-booked and told I was #1 on the standby list for next flight in about two and a half hours. Three-year old Ava and 20 month old Dylan (30 pounds of heavy cuteness in a carrier on my back all this time), were holding up well. But it had been nearly three hours since arriving, so I knew they needed food and exercise quickly. 

Food, frolics and failure

We hit the food court, then took the airport train and a very long walk to a far concourse where I'd found a kids play area on the airport map.

After burning off some energy and recharging my phone, we made it back to the new gate, energized and hopeful and checked in again. A staffer confirmed that we were at the top of the standby list, and told us to wait for more information or for our names to be called. Then, we waited. And waited. And watched, as passengers lined up, boarded the plane, the doors closed and staff began packing up the counter. We never heard our names called.

Hey! What happened to "Number one on the standby list?!" The unhelpful, indifferent United staff person at the counter shrugged, barely glancing up at me and a handful of similarly stuck passengers clustered at the counter.

"You might have been number one, but the list is fluid," she said. Then why is it numbered?! That's why you use a numbered list: to indicate who has priority. So we and others who couldn't make earlier flight due to their staffing problems got passed over again.

The staffer who'd instructed us to wait for more information returned to the desk after closing the doors to the gangway, picked up her things and left, never even glancing at us. I stood there with a toddler on my back, a fading 3 year old clutching my hand and no one from United providing any assistance of any kind. 

Two of the travelers who were also stuck there with me did offer to carry my backpack and asked if I needed any help carrying the kids. They also asked the visually impaired woman if she needed any help getting around. Again: no help from United staff. 

We again turned en masse (all five of us) to the remaining United staffer at the gate counter to ask if we were going to get any more help or information on our options or what to do next. Could we get on another flight? Another airline? The staffer shrugged. "I don't know. Next one is at 6pm tonight. But it's full too and so are all the other airlines." She never looked up from the paperwork in front of her.

"How is that possible?!" one of the guys next to me asked. He'd been stuck in the check-in line too and missed an early morning connection to the midwest. "Well what do you want?" she asked, annoyed. "The flight was full. Every flight is full. It's only been that way every August for 25 years."  

There's no crying in baseball aviation

Six hours after arriving at the airport, disappointed, tired and frustrated, I was trying not to cry in front of the children, because after all, that's their job.

"Well," I said, "Since we haven't flown every August for 25 years, and I don't work for the airline, perhaps you can tell me what I should do now since I've been here for six hours already." 

She huffily suggested waiting for another standby seat that evening, but indicated that we probably wouldn't make that one either and probably wouldn't be able to get two seats.

At that, we all turned and walked away to figure out our own options. I sat on a bench and called United's 800-number, where I gave a synopsis of our ordeal and received the same, "Sucks to be you" attitude from the agent, until asking for a supervisor. This one booked guaranteed seats for all three of us on a flight out at 5:35 a.m. the next day. Recalling the earlier supervisor's admonishment, I said, "Geez: so I'm going to have to go home and bring the kids back tomorrow at 3:35 in the morning."  

"Oh no," said the agent, "You only need to be there at least an hour early for domestic flights. An hour and a half at the most." Really. Really?! Aaaaagh. 

With my bags and car seats in Denver, my son asleep on my back and daughter curled up asleep in my lap, I called for a ride home, having expended one day of vacation in the Seatac Airport.

In the wee hours of the next morning, without bags or car seats, we arrived an hour and 45 minutes early after checking in online enroute to the airport, therby skipping the still-horrendous check in lines.

Again, we saw a mirror image of the morning before, with dozens of weary travelers queued up but barely moving closer to the holy grail of the check-in kiosk. The "process" they were part of again looked like an homage to a Rube Goldberg machine: "complex gadgets...[that] perform[ed] simple tasks in indirect, convoluted ways." (Courtesy: Wikipedia - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rube_Goldberg ). Unfortunately for them, the same staffer who'd sent us willy nilly the day before was again working her "magic." And by magic I mean "lack thereof" or "mayhem" - your choice. 

Day 2: Finally on our way!

This time, unencumbered by bags and pre-checked, we cruised straight through security to the gate, where a staffer on the overhead speaker said, "If you haven't been assigned a seat yet, we will get you one but we can only guarantee that you probably won't like it." Grrr.

I'm no famous, frequently-traveling New York Times writer like Steven D. Leavitt, who once wrote that United's stellar, personalized customer service had won him over for life.

But I don't think it's asking too much of airline staff to at least be helpful and considerate - meaning having consideration for the person with whom you're dealing. Meaning assisting the visually impaired traveler or the mom traveling alone with two small kids and helping them to navigate your suddenly broken check-in "process."

As someone now tasked with improving customer service for a government agency that is doing process review and improvements, I recognized a broken process when I experienced it firsthand. Unfortunately for me and thousands of travelers, United Airlines apparently still doesn't recognize it.

Later, as I thumbed through the in-flight magazine from the company, I read a story about a United staffer based in Chicago who is apparently renowned for her compassion and helpfulness to customers. Wow. That's great.

Just a thought: perhaps she could be brought in from Chicago to consult with the United staff in Seattle on how to improve the customer experience. Just be sure to remind her to arrive at the airport at least an hour early. 90 minutes tops. I'd hate for her to miss her flight and have a bad customer experience.

Home again, having survived Seatac-alypse 2011

Update: I sent this to United's Customer Service and they replied back a few weeks later, apologizing and saying they'd pass the info along to management in Seatac. They also offered a voucher for a small discount on future travel for the three of us. That wasn't the goal of sending the letter, but it was a sufficient gesture.

Thrilling backseat singer

Ava is a bit obsessed with Michael Jackson's Thriller album and asks to play it every time we get into the car. Her favorites are Beat it, PYT, Billie Jean and Human Nature.

Unfortunately, she doesn't quite have all the words down or understand some of them. Do you want to get into explaining to an almost four year old the backstory of why Billie Jean "is just a girl who claims that I am the one..." (Shudder). That would call for a very special episode of Dora the Explorer, wherein we learn the backpack not only holds a map, but also a paternity test for Dora's dad. "Oh Dios mío, Boots!"

So Ava has taken to substituting words she does know for the ones she can't quite catch in the songs. Her take on Human Nature? "If they say 'Why? Why?' Tell 'em that it's human nature sanitation. Why? Why? Does he do me that way..."

Probably safe to say she's not going to be hitting the karaoke circuit anytime soon.

Rants and rides in toyland

I went to Toys R Us in search of a T-ball set for the kids. Note that I said "kids" because when I arrived and asked where I might find such a set, I was directed to the "Boys" aisle.

Ahem. Excuse me? Can't they be on the "baseball/softball" aisle? After all, I did find pink softball mitts there too. Frankly, my daughter is already throwing soft baseballs laser-straight that land across the room right in my or my husbands hands. So if someone is planning to lob that hackneyed "throws like a girl" line at her, they are going to get a fast pitch right down the pipe that underscores the point that if by that phrase they mean "throws like a badass," then yes, she throws like a girl. Moving on.

While I had a feminist mental rant in sporting goods, the kids busied themselves trying out all manner of miniature rides.

 Dylan: "Is that vegetable tanned leather? That's niiiice."

There was the Escalade, for the discerning future luxury consumer. 

 The obligatory Pixar-tie-in Cars model.

Ava went for a different type of four-wheeled vehicle, emblazoned with princesses of course. I pick my battles on the princess front: it's seems like a losing battle trying to hold back or offset the glittery, princess-y imagery of an international marketing behemoth with little more than logic, which 3 year olds don't always follow.

But when she asks which princess I want to be, I inform her that I'd rather be queen because princesses don't seem to "do" anything or have any authority. But I may be overthinking my role in this tea party with invisible beverages and food.

 What? You can't let a brotha in?! My car is a Mini but I'm major baby!

So you're saying there's no student parking lot at this daycare? Or valet?! Uh...huh. This is going to be an issue. Let me have my people get back to you.

No, none of them came home with us, but we did have a little bit of a struggle prying Dylan's hands off the steering wheel when it was time to move on.

Just prior to arriving at the store, Ava had informed me that because we didn't stop for frozen yogurt as planned, this was her "worst day ever." 

"You sure about that?" I asked. Because 15 minutes later, I was "The best mommy in the whole world" for taking her "someplace so interesting!" Followed by squeals and "Oh my gosh: Mommy look at all the dolls! Oh my gosh: they're so cute! I love them so much..." Blah, blah, blah. In other words, YOU STAND CORRECTED.

In the end, we didn't find the t-ball set I wanted, but we had a lovely outing.

Ice cream date & dog days of summer

We missed the ship tour at Seafair so we opted for an ice cream date and a visit with my folks and their dog  while J. readies the ribs for the grill.

Seattle summers are lovely. It's almost enough to make me forget about the craptastic weather we've had this winter and spring. Almost.

Postal present

As much as I love all things technology-related, nothing beats getting a package or letter in the mail. A month or so ago, my friend BryAnn came to Seattle for a visit and showed admirable patience while I gave her a quickie tour of the city with two kids.

Today, we received a lovely card and present from her and Ava was beside herself when she saw the plush bears and mugs.

 I know this is blurry but it was the best I could do whipping my camera around to catch her look of glee. Her exact words were, "CUPS! We got cups!" I couldn't catch Dylan as he ran around hugging the bears after sneaking them while Ava was looking at something else.

One for each bear. Thank you BryAnn for the lovely visit and for showing my girl the joys of snail mail.

Sun and school = the write stuff

Take 70+ degree Seattle day, add 30-40 preschoolers, siblings, parents, food, ice cream and slip & slides. Stir. Smile. Enjoy.

To wrap up our crazy-busy week, we had Ava's preschool picnic and the Seattle Bloggy Bootcamp the same day, followed by an early morning appointment to help out at the Puget Sound Race for the Cure at the Seattle Center on Sunday.

After a couple hours of listening to great speakers and meeting other Northwest bloggers (including Vancouver, BC), I had to duck out of the all day boot camp to get to the picnic with other current and new families at Ava's preschool, which meant I missed lunch and networking. I was totally bummed about that, but knew several weeks ago when the school announced the date for the picnic and I realized it conflicted with the bootcamp that something was going to have to give. But I vowed to do as much as I could of both events. I'll write more about lessons learned there, but it was a very productive event and I strongly encourage others to hit the other BBCs in other cities this year.

Although I had to zip over to the park, I was consoled by being able to be out at least part of the day enjoying the picture-perfect weather with my family: sunny skies and heat creeping up into the low 70s.

Ava joined several classmates in getting her face painted with a butterfly, which slowly disappeared by the end of the night as she played with a small spray bottle given out as gifts by the teachers. They know their target audience: my parents reported that she played with it for HOURS, alternately spraying herself, the dog, and every single flower and blade of grass in their yard.

We also discovered her growing writing confidence after finding her name tagged all over the picnic area with the sidewalk chalk the teachers provided. Again: great give for the preschoolers and how cool is that for my little 3.5 year old to be writing her name?!

Having a short name definitely helps, but just a day later, as we read books before bed, she surprised me by reading each letter in the words on each page of her brother's toddler word book, only mixing up a few similar looking one, like lower case n and h and i and t.

After getting over my shock and glee and giving her high fives and hugs, we went to show J. who was equally bowled over and swept her up in a huge bear hug of kisses and tickles, sending her into giggling spasms. Holy cow! She on the road to reading! I'm so excited for her.

Meantime, her brother is now sitting down of his own accord and flipping through books and definitely understand more words than he can say. In the books with animals, he tries to blow the elephant trumpet sound when he sees one, and when he sees pictures of ducks, he says, "Cack, cack, cack." (quack, quack, quack). As Ava read the letters, when we flipped to the picture of a t-shirt and I said, "What's that?", he pinched the fabric of his own shirt.(!)

He's verbalizing more and his repetoire at 17 (nearly 18 months) is made up of ma or mama, dada, nana (whose name he says everytime we pull up to their house), adn dat (that). This past weekend while showing me something he'd picked up off the floor, he added his first sentence: "Ma, ook." (Ma, look). I love it! Especially the "Ma" for some reason. Perhaps it reminds me of those beloved Little House on the Prairie books, even though we are a decidedly urban family.

Dylan with Papa and Nana.

Dylan letting it all hang out at the preschool picnic.

Because nothing says almost summer in Seattle like 75 degrees, ice cream, a diaper and Teva sandals. I think I saw an adult dressed like this in another part of the park.

Sunday, Ava and I were up and out by 7am to help coordinate a team from my job at the Race for the Cure, then met up with J. to pick up Dylan before heading off to meet up with our PEPS parents group and kids at a local park, where we saw several parents from the picnic and other friends. Sunny Seattle days bring everyone out. But the two days of early starts and chock-full days at the end of a chock-full week wiped me out: after returning home from the park in mid-afternoon, I went down for a nap with the kids. For three hours. And I'm not a napper, outside of long car or plane rides.

All in all, a lovely, busy, developmental milestone-y week that I don't plan to repeat schedule-wise anytime soon. Except the fun networking, sun, ice cream and napping parts. I'm down for those whenever.

Morning Glory muffin madness

We've been in a baking mood around Casa Jones the last few weeks, and the awesome local Grand Central Bakery (@GrandCentralSea on Twitter) recently helped kick us into overdrive.

Maybe it's the still-gloomy, winter-like weather we're having here in Seattle that has me craving comfort food. I love it when the heat and smell of baking goodness permeates the house, chasing away the blahs. It reminds me of when I lived near a bakery. On summer days, when the wind was right, my apartment would fill with the smell of baked bread. No NIMBY complaints for that facility!

Since Ava has been old enough and steady enough to grasp a spoon, I've allowed her to "help" me cook. Now that she's 3 1/2, she's actually pretty helpful and is getting better and better about keeping ingredients in the pan or bowl during her ministrations.

A couple weeks ago, she helped pour corn muffin batter into the mini-mold that she requested when I replaced the old, battered ones we recently recycled.

She actually did a pretty good pouring job. Guess that tea set really does help with fine motor skills.

Her dexterity came in handy recently when I had a chance to try a home version of the amazing Morning Glory Muffins that Grand Central Bakery used to sell. Yes, used to. I made my monthly pilgrimage last month to pick up some baked goodies and learned they had been discontinued. Developed world whining and kvetching ensued via Twitter. 

But the customer service and social media savvy folks at the bakery didn't tell me to suck it up or shut my literal and figurative pie hole.

 They commiserated with me, much as the counter staff had. After all, a bakery is about using baked goods to connect with people, right?

 Well their awesome marketing staff did indeed follow up swiftly with an email and a card for a free pastry. But wait, there's more! Since they're no longer making the muffins, she offered to try to downsize their commercial recipe for a home batch for me and my kiddos to try out.

How cool is that?! This all happened just before we left for our Mexican vacation, so after we returned and settled back in at home, one night after work I gathered the ingredients to make a run at the recipe. They'd provided a couple versions (one large batch, one smaller) and suggested a food scale, just to be on the safe side. After a long day at work and with two antsy kids underfoot, I didn't have the patience or time, so I was willing to take the risk of eye-balling the measurements. Plus, as the Marketing Director suggested, I could start with the small batch and if it was way out of wack, I wouldn't be out so many ingredients.

Ava got the ball rolling with the electric slicer/grater, prepping the apples and carrots for the mix.

 Next, we added the rest of the fruity, nutty, Morning Glory goodness: coconut, almond slices, raisins,  orange zest and dates. 

 Separately, we combined the flour and dry ingredients (baking soda, cinnamon, etc.), then oil, eggs and such, then put it all together in the stand mixer.

Finally, although I had non-stick pans, I sprayed them with baking style spray oil (it has flour in it) to be on the safe side because it was my first time using the new pans and I didn't know how well they'd release the muffins. But I now realize there's sufficient oil in the recipe that that was probably redundant. I'll skip it next time.

 Eager taste-testers await their chance to ply their trade...

 Mountain of bowls and utensils that ensued. Although the small pot and a serving bowl were left over from lunch. Thank goodness for dishwasher-safe tools! I don't know how those pioneer peeps did it.

 And finally, the piping hot results, which yielded 1 1/2 trays of regular size muffins and one mini-tray.

Dylan, who is almost 16 months but not saying much besides the occasional Mama and Dada, used his one other almost-word to indicate his desire for one of the muffins. Repeatedly, on tiptoe, he pointed to the muffins with an emphatic, "Ah-Dat!" and tried to grab them himself. He ate three regular muffins and one mini before I cut him off.

We will be adding this to our baked goods repertoire with some minor modifications and we send a huge thanks to Grand Central Bakery for sharing their wonderful recipe with our family. Now THAT is an example of great customer service that will keep me coming back for their other goodies.

Ixtapa vacay

We returned to Ixtapa, Mexico where we got engaged 11-ish years, two kids, one dog, an inter-state move, several jobs, and multiples homes ago.

We're having a lovely time. Kids are in sun/walking/sand/beach-induced stupors. Recharging for the evening.