First of all, I had to pay $15 to check my bag. Annoying. I'm sorry, but aren't I doing you a favor by helping you add weight to the plane? I'm sorry that I a) can't pack for a week long vacation in a teeny tiny suitcase and b) have suntan lotion bottles that don't fit the 3 oz. limit. I NEED my SPF and I like my large liquids, thank you very much. So frustrating. Call me crazy, but I'd rather that fee be tacked on to my ticket price then have to pay it when I check in. That way, it's like an invisible fee. Maybe I know about it, but I just don't see it. Like Santa. And I sure as hell don't have to whip out my credit card to deal with it in a crowded airport.
So then after that, I finally got on the plane and was ready to relax. But wait—did you know that American Airlines gives you a full can of Coke (I refuse to use the words pop or soda)? I don't want a full can. I like just a little cup of it, enough to wet my whistle while I'm flying high in the sky. See, when you have a drink, that means you have to have your little tray table down so your drink can sit nicely in its shallow little nook. But that means your legs can't be crossed, you can't access the seat pocket in front of you, and your mobility practically disappears. In other words, you're stuck.
With a cup of ginger ale (my usual drink of choice), it's already challenging enough to finish it before my body cramps up. But then when you add in the flight attendants who come around with the darn garbage bag right after you get your drink, it gets way too stressful. You don't want to be the jerk who throws half of a drink away, creating an inevitably leaky garbage bag. And you also don't want to be stuck with a sticky cup of ice for ages and ages, with nowhere to put it except the tray table. And then you're still stuck in your seat. And that's the worst.
So last week when they gave me the full can of ginger ale, I went into a frenzy. I found myself chugging it like I was in some kind of drinking contest. I was unhappily knocking back the ginger ale like there was no tomorrow, a little ticked off that I had to do "work" on the start of my vacation.
And then I found out that there were no complimentary snacks on the flight. I'm sorry, but I live for that tiny bag of pretzels. I need it to get me through. Don't they know that I have the munchies ALL the time? What airline doesn't even serve that weird ranch "party mix"? You know the one, it has a weird zesty flavor and is something you would never normally eat, but you do anyway because you're on a plane and that's all you have. Ugh.
Oh wait, I get it. The full can of ginger ale was suppose to make up for the fact that we didn't get a snack, right? Because you can totally replace salty snacks with sugary beverages.
THAT IS RIDICULOUS.
I was outraged. I just sat there in my window seat going on and on about how I'd much rather sacrifice the full can for a nice little snack. By the end, I was ready to launch a crusade (spirited songs were definitely involved) and I had pretty much mentally drafted an angry letter to the airline. (J pretended to be asleep through all of it.)
I long for the days of Delta. Back when I flew to Aruba, they gave out not one, but TWO of those yummy ginger cookie packets AND the flight attendant mixed me a delicious beverage in a cup—Fresca with a splash of Cran-apple juice. It was a life-changing experience. And I got to relive it on all 4 flights involved. Amazing.
I'm heading out to Boston and the Cape in about 2 weeks (whoa, that's soon!) and I'm flying United. Oh boy, I don't think that's any better than American. At least this time I know to pack some pretzels. Hmph.
Sidenote: I just informed J I was writing a post about this. His response? "You're still all fired up about this? That was almost two weeks ago. Get over it." Yes. I. Am.
Ok, done ranting. Happy flying, everyone.