So I've finally decided to finish my earlier blog post, which chronicles the nightmare Lauren and I experienced while attempting to fly home from Québec City. When we left off, Lauren and I had just arrived in Chicago, and I bestowed upon my wonderful readers a cliff-hanger. Muwaha. Now, 'tis time to continue.
When we got to Chicago, we knew that the first thing we needed to do was to find someone from Delta to give us hotel vouchers. There was no possible way we would be able to get to St. Louis that night, so we had accepted the fact that the only solution was to stay the night in Chicago. However, as I mentioned, we only had about $40 CAD with us in cash. We'd also gone the whole day without eating anything except a banana and a muffin before flying from Québec City.
The Delta terminal of the O'Hare airport was deserted. Of course, at 9:00, no more flights were going out and only a few were coming in. However, we knew that we couldn't go past the security checkpoint, as it was unlikely that anyone on the other side would be able to help us. And, of course, the large Delta help desk was empty, as well. There were, however, phones that lined the wall which dialed automatically to a service line. Lauren called and they told us to find someone at a gate to help us. Well, of course, every gate was vacant. Eventually we found a group of three talking to a woman at a gate, so we got in line behind them. Judging by their accents, language, and the mention of Moscow, they were Russian. We waited behind them for thirty to forty-five minutes while the woman behind the desk tried to get them hotel vouchers. It seemed that they had the same problem.
Luckily, by the time we reached her, she had figured out what needed to be done to get hotel vouchers and she didn't ask too many questions. Waiting was frustrating, though. The three people seemed to treat it like it was just a huge game, laughing and speaking loudly in Russian when the woman was on the phone trying to sort things out. One woman even started taking pictures at some point. Nevertheless, we were glad when they left and fervently hoped we would never have to see them again. (Foreshadow much?)
After getting our hotel and meal vouchers, Lauren and I decided to check in for our flight the following morning as per Deb's advice. The people at United were very friendly and helpful, but they were unable to check us in for the flight saying that, since it had been ordered online, it was too soon to print out a ticket. But she saw our names, told us our seat numbers, and confirmed everything for us. So we were in the system. After grabbing some fast food from the only restaurant that was open in the airport, we followed the earlier woman's instructions on how to get to the bus shuttle area. It took a little longer than anticipated, but we finally got there around 10:00 or so. We had been booked for the Crowne Plaza, so we waited and waited and waited for what seemed like forever until finally the shuttle showed up. Lauren and I clamored on and were quite relieved to finally be able to relax.
Heh.
When we got to the hotel, we handed the man behind the counter our voucher, and he just kind of stared at it for a moment. Then, finally, he said, "You're at the wrong hotel." It turned out that there were two Crowne Plazas in the area: one closer to the airport and one in Northbrook. We had been booked into the one in Northbrook, but we hadn't realized that there were two hotels. Luckily, we managed to catch the shuttle driver before he left, and he drove us back to the airport. He was very nice and apologetic; he felt bad for not having looked more closely at my voucher to see that it was the wrong hotel. He told us where to go to wait, so we waited and waited and waited some more.
After a while, we began panicking. Why? Because I suddenly noticed on the voucher that it said Valid until 11 P.M. despite the fact that the woman at the gate had told us that it was valid until midnight. Lauren and I were at wit's end by this point. We were so stressed, exhausted, and hungry (we still hadn't eaten our cold McDonald's yet), and we were at our breaking point. Among the lists of hotels inside the airport, there was no number for either Crowne Plaza. At a loss, we called Deb, and she called the hotel for us. She was told that the bus would be there in twenty to twenty-five minutes and that it wouldn't be a problem to come after midnight. So we relaxed ever so slightly.
When the bus finally showed up, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted. We were, of course, joined in the shuttle by the three Russians from earlier. The twenty minute drive to the hotel lagged, and Lauren and I both nearly fell asleep in our seats. When we got there, we tried to zoom off the bus to get to the desk first, but the three people beat us and took forever. It was probably another fifteen minutes before we were finally able to go up and check in to the hotel. We reserved a shuttle for the next morning at 6 and promptly passed out in our very nice room.
Oh, but wait! There's more!
We were down in the lobby the next morning by 5:45, ready to go as soon as possible. But by 6:05, we still hadn't left. Why? Because it seemed that one of the Russians was still asleep and the other two couldn't get her to open her door. So they wanted hotel staff to open it for them, but they also wanted to hold the shuttle bus until they were all ready to go. Luckily, the woman in charge said, "Look, this girls have a plane to catch. You need to take them to the airport." So we left.
We had been afraid that we wouldn't be able to find the United Airlines check-in from the bus shuttle area, but after confirming our airline, the driver (who was the same one from last night) was kind enough to drop us off right in front of the correct door of United. We went inside to check ourselves in, but everything went to hell when I tried to scan my passport. It told me that we needed to get an employee to help us, so we went to go check ourselves in manually. When we handed her our passports, the woman was confused.
"Are you sure your flight is United?" she asked. Oh, God. Not again. Lauren and I just about lost it. For some reason it took them a little while to actually find our reservations. But when they did, it only got worse.
"Oh, okay, here's the problem," the woman said. "I found the tickets, but they haven't been paid for yet."
WHAT?! SERIOUSLY?! All of the expletives I know were running through my head at that point. It seemed like Delta was doing everything in their power to screw us over. They had booked us the flight on United, but now they hadn't paid for it?! I about lost it. I asked what the price was, if I could just pay for it myself, but the women continued to try to find a solution. We called Deb, and she talked to them, as it was easier, since she had been talking with Delta to make the reservation. From what I gathered, even though Delta hadn't paid for the flight, they put us on it anyway and gave us our tickets. The women were very nice and helpful. Delta was not. By the time everything was sorted out, we had an hour to get through Chicago security to our gate.
We did. We made it through security, we got to our gate, and everything was okay. The plane left on time, it was a very short trip, and we made it to St. Louis at about 9:30.
But wait! There's more!
You remember how we had to leave our luggage in order to make the flight that we didn't make? Yeah. Turns out it had been lost the whole time. When we got to St. Louis, we went down to the baggage claim. Delta had found Lauren's. Somehow it had gotten shipped from JFK to Atlanta, Delta's main hub, and finally to St. Louis. Mine was missing and they didn't know where it was. And because we had last flown on United, even though my luggage never touched a United plane, Delta refused to help us. They told us we had to file a claim through United.
The people at United were very helpful and friendly, as they had been the whole time. We described my suitcase to them and listed a couple of contents inside that would identify it as mine. What did I list? A tattered, gray bear who calls himself Sammy. That's right, people. Sammy was in the bag. Many of you probably know how special this bear is to me. So to have lost him, to not know if I would ever get him back, was torturous. But the people assured us that they would find the suitcase and send it to us as soon as humanly possible.
And they did. I got a text message from Deb on Monday night saying that my suitcase had been found and was being Fed-Ex'd to the house. By 11 o'clock the next morning, it was in their possession, and Sammy was waiting for me. Everything ended well.
The story may have a "happy ending," but that doesn't change the fact that Lauren and I spent twenty-five hours traveling because of Delta's incompetence. It was truly a nightmare. She and I exemplified Murphy's Law. And Delta was completely unwilling to help or to take responsibility for their screw-ups. I can honestly say that I will never fly Delta again. (And that's saying something, since I fly at least twice a year.) I hope I never have to go through that again. If any of my readers have to fly, I highly suggest that you avoid Delta. Take United; I've only had good luck with them. I also intend to avoid the JFK airport for the rest of my life. Thank God all this hell is behind me.
