My last day in Boston, I was so busy patting myself on the back for being extraordinarily competent at remembering how to do something as simple as knowing when to get on and off a subway car, I failed to be competent at something as simple as correctly reading the time of my departure flight.
The day I left Boston, I woke up at 8 a.m. and leisurely packed and got ready to go to the airport. My flight was to leave at 12:35, so I figured that if I left the hotel at 9:45, that would give me ample time to get to the airport and get through security. It would give me more than enough time, really, which is what I wanted, because I get anxious when I travel.
I arrived at the airport and went to the self check-in machine. I inserted my credit card and the machine searched for my reservation. And then the machine politely informed me that I was checking in too late for my flight.
I didn’t know how that was possible, because it was 10:30 at that point, and my flight wasn’t until 12:35.
I was checking in too late for my flight? Well, yes, I was, because my flight wasn’t at 12:35. My flight was at 10:35. My flight was scheduled to land in Chicago at 12:35. It was not scheduled to leave Boston at 12:35.
Idiot.
I tried to quell my panic as I realized that I must have incorrectly read the travel itinerary that I had printed off before my trip. What was I going to do? How was I going to get home? Most importantly, how much was this stupid mistake going to cost me?
Meanwhile, the machine helpfully asked me if I would like to re-route my flight. Uh, YES PLZ AND THANK YOU.
I was put on standby for a flight that actually was supposed to leave Boston at 12:35, and then put on standby for a connecting flight to Louisville that would get me home at 8 p.m. that night. Somehow, I was lucky enough that I got on both flights, and I arrived in Louisville right at 8 p.m.
After my initial hours of self-flagellation, I became unnerved by how little I was being punished for my mistake. Certainly, I had luck working in my favor, because if those flights had been full, then I would have had a much harder time getting home. But I did get lucky. And I was not being punished. Why in the world was I not being punished? That’s obviously what’s supposed to happen to people when they make a stupid mistake. You aren’t supposed to make a stupid mistake, and then “luck out” and get on the next flight.
I got home that night, and took a look at my credit card bill online, to see what kind of damage I had done in Boston. I noticed that there was over $400 in “pending charges” that was lurking on my credit card. I could not figure out what that could be, except for one thing. The airline must have charged me some crazy fee for missing my flight, and they never told me they were doing it.
I can understand being punished (I DESERVE to be punished!), but it seemed unconscionable that they would have charged me money, without telling me first and give me an option. I mean really, HOW. DARE. THEY? The money that this would cost me! $400! ARRRGGHH!
For nearly 24 hours, I continued in my anxious, indignant state, until my mom finally told me to call my credit card company and make sure that the $400 pending charge was from the airline. I called the credit card company and was informed that it was merely a holding charge the hotel I had stayed at had put on my card. I would not actually be charged that money.
There would be no punishment whatsoever for my mistake.
Say what you will about the airline industry. I have said most of it myself, particularly when I found myself trapped in the hellish Newark airport. However, I am impressed with a company that says, “Hey, you screwed up? Well, here’s what we’re going to do. I am going to re-arrange my schedule to accommodate for that screw-up. And you know what? I’m not going to charge you a single cent for being such a complete dumbass.”
Thank you, American Airlines, for getting me home, despite the fact that I can’t read a piece of paper.
