Delta Voucher Experience

Written on December 29, 2009

What a turn of events. I’ve been trying to get home from Miami via Atlanta nearly all day. It’s 8PM and I’m on a plane from Atlanta to Kansas City—finally. I was schedule to leave ATL at 3:15. However Delta overbooked the flight and asked for volunteers to stay back and catch a 4:30 flight. I nearly ran over old ladies to volunteer after the mention of free flight vouchers. I jumped over suitcases and hurried my way to the boarding counter to be the first volunteer on the list. Another eager gentleman was behind me and the man behind that was none other than my father. We hear “free” and we are pushing over the elder to get some. Like father like daughter. However, as the saying goes, “Nothing in life is free,” and this voucher ordeal was no different.

After the whole excitement of being the first volunteer on the list, the boarding agent told me to board the plane. I followed my family onto the plane because turns out there were seats for us and I would not be needed as a volunteer. As we walked on the plane, one person said, “It’s full,” while another flight attendant would say, “Oh, here’s a seat.” It was a roller coaster of emotions. First, I was pleased to be waiting behind in Atlanta in hopes of getting some vouchers. Then, I was happy to simply be boarding and returning home.

Finally, after what seemed like a game of musical chairs, my father sat in what was to be the last available seat. Then as I was saying goodbye to parents, the flight attendant found an open seat next to an unhappy lady with a really unhappy baby sitting on her lap. I told the flight attendant half jokingly, “Oh come on, I don’t even want to be going to Kansas City. I want to fly to Michigan.” She just looked at me and said, “Why didn’t you just say so!” Then before I knew it – it was discussed that the mother of the child purchased a seat for that baby, which I highly doubt that to be true, but I didn’t stick around to find out. I was out of the plane without hesitation and a quick farewell to my, who flew up and away to Kansas City leaving me alone in the Atlanta airport. I skipped off the plane and patiently waited at the boarding desk for the Delta employee to return to give me some well-earned vouchers.

So, yes my family left me at the Atlanta airport alone to figure things out and make it to Kansas City on my own. A few days after this whole ordeal, I asked my dad what he thought as I stepped off the plane and if he had worried about me. His answer was simply, “Nope.” I guess he thinks I have had enough travel experience to handle myself in most situations. Heck, my dad said he could imagine me calling him that evening telling him that I had been put up into a hotel near the airport and would be catching a morning flight to Grand Rapids. I laugh at this, but his imagination probably isn’t that far off. At this point, nothing is out of the question and I’m lucky to have a family that fully trusts me to know how to take care of myself. And take care of myself is exactly what I did that day in Atlanta.

The Delta employee, Mer, met me at the boarding desk with a smile after my parents plane departed. She knew I wanted to fly to Grand Rapids instead of Kansas City. Now, you may ask “Why on earth would I want to fly to Michigan in the middle of winter?” Good Question. I have a good answer: work crew reunion. Friends that I had made at a summer camp in 2007 were getting together in Grand Rapids to bring in the New Year, and I wanted to be there with them to celebrate. So, at the mention of free flight vouchers, I jumped at the opportunity with Grand Rapids on my mind.

I waited patiently at the boarding desk for my new Delta-employed friend, Mer. She printed me off $200 Delta flight vouchers and a “meal” voucher, as well as a boarding pass for the 4:37 flight to Kansas City.

She knew I wanted to go to GRR and she did try whole-heartedly to get me on a flight from ATL to GRR, but failed miserably due to strict regulations and rules. Rules Smules. Poor me. Mer wasn’t high up enough in the Delta force to send me to Michigan with the press of a button. She was just a lowly Atlanta-based Delta boarding deskie. Boo. She did however advise me to ‘hurry’ to customer service desk in hopes that they could help me get to GRR.

She might as well printed off another $200 voucher then and there because the following events led to yet more vouchers and not because customer service was any help because they were not. They were helpless at best. When I arrived at the customer service desk the line was full of anger passengers who had missed flights or had some sort of God-forsaken problem. There was yelling and cursing. Everyone was upset, and no one was there to help me get to Grand Rapids. I lost hope.

At this point I look at my watch and it reads, “4:22.” Hmm… I knew exactly where I needed to be: the gate to board the 4:37 flight to Kansas City. But sometimes what we know we need to do and what we actually do are two different things. In this instance that too was true. I looked down at my pile of vouchers and what did I see? Well besides the 4:37 boarding pass, which I quickly placed back into my wallet without a second thought. I saw my meal voucher! This only meant one thing: Chilli’s, here I come. Oh, come on, don’t judge me. The gate would be the next stop, but not before I had a warm plate of French fries and chicken crispers boxed and ready to go.

As I ascended the escalator to the restaurant, the rich aroma of greasy burgers surrounded me. All I could picture were French fries pilled high. When I was welcomed with a, “Hi, how may I help you?” I proudly pulled out my meal voucher as if it was a VIP Chilli’s Card. I voiced that I had a meal voucher even thought it was evident to anyone with eyes, especially to this Chilli’s employee, that yes, indeed I did have a meal voucher. Almost with a smirk, I asked, “How much will this baby get me?” This meal voucher I was holding as if it was Willie Wonka’s Golden Ticket only amounted to a whopping seven dollars she informed me. The visions of warm chicken crispers exploded into a thousand projectile food particles around me and I was brought to realty that my “meal” voucher was going to get me diddlysquat here at Chilli’s. In a I-just-found-out-Santa-isn’t-real tone, I asked what seven lousy dollars would get me. “Cheesecake,” the employee answered with a slight giggle hoping I wouldn’t reach over the counter with both hands and violently choke her for mentioning such an irate sugar-filled suggestion. Lucky for her, I like cheesecake.

I started to reimage my to-go box without fries and chicken crispers and now with delectable cheesecake. Within minuets, I was holding just that and “running” to my gate. As I approached A30, this eerie feeling filled the air. Oh no, could it be? Had I managed to miss the flight? Oh no, what now? What is a girl to do? Here I am stuck in the Atlanta airport, completely alone. Just me and my cheesecake. My own family, flesh and blood left me in the Atlanta airport to rot. Then just when all hope was lost out comes Biju, an Indian boarding deskie, a.ka. my soon to be new best Delta-employed friend. Possibly a fellow friend of Mer, who knows? He inquisitively looks at me. In the most furious, out of breath, worried tone I could muster, I ask, “Did the plane already depart?” After an obvious yes and a few investigative questions on his part, I had a new boarding pass for a 7:20 flight to Kansas City. This time, first class. Way to go, Biju.

hen being quite the investigator myself, I say with confidence, “Well, Biju,” I use his name in hopes that my directness will get me far. “I was told that a $200 voucher is given if a volunteer waits one to three hours for another connecting flight. Well, being a volunteer an all,” I say with a shrug of the shoulders and uttermost confidence.

I continue, “I do believe that I have missed the flight I was intended to make due to some hold ups at the boarding desk while printing out my vouchers and then again at the customer service desk. I have now passed the three hour window and the 7:10 flight lies outside that, which to me seems as though I should be given…” hesitation helps, I thought at the time, adding dramatic effect, of course, “…more vouchers.”

I end my long exasperated story with a sigh and a conniving smile, which at the time I’m sure I thought came off as innocent and hopeful. Biju was not impressed by my insightful display of Delta policy knowledge and showed no mercy. He simply told me to return to the agent that mentioned such a thing. I did just that.

Mer was happy to see me again, I’m sure. Well not really, but this is my story, so she was happy to see me and even welcomed me with a hug (also not exactly true, but like I said, my story). She must have been happy because I told her my sob story of the near violent passengers at the customer service and the tragic missed flight with obviously no mention of the cheesecake. After hearing such things, the printer started up again and out came $200 more Delta vouchers. Cha-ching! I cheerfully bid farewell to Mer accompanied with $400 Delta vouchers, a first-class ticket to Kansas City and of course, my cheesecake. With a little hop in my step I returned to the customer service desk, which was still being bombarded with angry Delta customers wanting simply to be served—what a concept. I ignored the cursing customers and held my chin high. I was determined to get to Grand Rapids. I’d use my newly acquired vouchers to get on the earliest flight to GRR and all would be well. After much waiting, as well as some wheeling and dealing, I had done it. Booked for a one o’clock flight the next day from Kansas City to Grand Rapids via Cincinnati. Bam Bam thank you Delta airlines.

Now that that was all sorted, time to celebrate. I had a little over an hour until my flight to KC, so I headed to the nail salon for a well-deserved manicure. Yes, the Atlanta airport has a nail salon and yes I felt as though I deserved a manicure after all that hard work also known as conniving wheeling and dealing. Now this nail salon came complete with message chairs and spa packages available including deep tissue massage and even waxing. I was just in need a manicure and that’s exactly what I got, but not before enjoying my cheesecake while sitting in the best massage chair ever invented.

After a long day of travel, which had started at 4:30am followed by a four hour drive through the Florida keys to the Miami airport and then a flight to Atlanta my body was in all sorts of aches. Thank you ExpresSpa for the best massage chair experience and a lovely manicure to boot. Feeling like a new women, I leisurely made my way to new designated gate. The flight was boarding relatively on time, and I was first to board with my newly cherished first-class ticket and beautiful nails, too. I situated myself amongst the middle-aged businessmen in suits in what I believe to be the biggest airplane seat I have ever sat in.

I settled into my very spacious seat that was large enough to Indian style, which yes, I did. The numerous ways I could position myself for the ultimate comfort was overwhelming. I resumed my place in my book and waited for the perks of first class to add up and oh did they.

First, I was provided with a personal pillow and blanket. I always wondered why they call them “personal” pillow and blanket. It’s not like I’m going to share them with old man baldy next to me, so of course they are personal. They should really call it what it is—an insignificantly sized flat pillow made from the most uncomfortable combinations of fabrics. If there are fabrics out there more unpleasant than that of this pillow, I hope they never come in contact with my skin. As for the blanket, it had more static electricity than the hair rising ball at Science City.

Secondly, I ordered a drink, but not before thanking the flight attendant for the “personal” pillow and blanket with an over exaggeration on the word personal and having a little snicker to myself. Before receiving my order of orange juice, an array of snacked including fruit, bags of chips, and even candy bars were neatly aligned in a basket and then offered to me. I choose Sunchips for those of you that are curious.

Now if the personal items and basket of goodies didn’t tell me I was in first class my beverage did. My orange juice, which is often my drink of choice on a plane, came with ice as usual but this time came in a glass. None of this lowly economy class plastic cups business. I’m talking hand blown imported glasses. One may argue that orange juice is orange juice regardless of the cup but no no. Let me inform you that OJ has never tasted so sweet at thirty-thousand feet. Also, as I finished my delectable drink, who was right there to refill it, but my own personal waitress aka the first-class flight attendant. Your hearing me right, I not only enjoyed one glass of OJ out of a real glass, but two. What a flight. Thanks again Biju, for one of the best first-class experiences ever.

So, I was picked up from KCI at 9PM just to return the next day around noon to catch a flight to Grand Rapids. What a story. The morning before, I woke up in my hotel room in Key West, the next day I was headed to meet friends in the State of Michigan. What a turn of events.