After earning a position on the Executive Desk at American Airlines following a strenuous training program, I was in dire need of a vacation. With a prime contact at a web-based travel site and six weeks off, I was ready to go. I’d always wanted to see South Africa, especially Capetown. I had no idea though that my little getaway would turn into such a massive adventure. As my departure date neared I seemed to be going in circles with nothing solid materializing even though I had all the information I needed. After two sleepless days and constant monitoring, my New York to Johannesburg flight was oversold within 20 minutes. It looked like my only option was to buy a network fare from London Heathrow using my airlines employee discount. But first I’d have to get to London. One of the advantages of working for an airline is that I can fly anywhere in the world – great in theory but there is a catch. I can only fly standby and have to get the taxes paid up front by American Airlines. More emails and countless calls later, I managed to establish that as my exit plan that would lead me not only to Capetown but also across 4,500 miles of land and five countries. So, throwing everything but the kitchen sink in three large bags, all 100 lbs of which I later learned does not equal 20 kilos, I set off for the airport.
I thought I had a clear head about how everything would proceed but as a new hire, my fear of bending any rules was still as fresh as a kid at Sunday school. A mild paranoia seized me at the last minute and I imagined that the procedure for following through on my plans would go something like this:
1. Go to the airport with out looking at anyone or saying a word, and proceed to the self service kiosk.
2. Print security pass which clearly states – THIS IS NOT A BOARDING PASS.
3. Proceed to the gate without speaking to anyone and wait, without anxiety, not daring to stare down the gate agent.
4. When my name is called scurry ahead before the gate bridge door shuts behind me.
5. Speak with no one and don’t tell a soul I’m an airline employee.
While waiting with the other standbys for my name to be called, I remembered a slightly important detail. I had my passport but I’d forgotten my ID badge. This was the first blunder on a slippery slope of mishaps. All I can say is, thank god for levelheaded coworkers. Within 30 minutes a friend of mine dispatched another agent – with wife and two kids in tow – to grab the badge and deliver it. They caught up with me just seconds before the door closed on the flight. I took my seat in first class, and was so stressed that I promptly passed out waking up only minutes before landing.
The next blunder was hanging out with one of the other attendants who worked the flight in a pub outside of London Gatwick where I’d landed. I completely lost track of time and when I looked, I realized that I’d already missed three of the four flights to Johannesburg. Plus, I conveniently forgot that I still had to transfer from there to Heathrow, not the easiest of tasks, and find the bus that would get me to South African Airways. Finally, after what seemed an eternity on the train to Victoria Station, the hub for the bus lines, I stumbled upon it by accident then had to cough up upwards of $75 for the one-way ticket. Frantically running down the street with heavy bags in tow, I came upon a lineup of large buses and ever so sweetly asked the burly woman tossing bags into the belly of the beast which one I should take. In that wonderful British tradition of being so pleasant she said, “What the bloody hell! Pick any bus, bloke!” and without so much as a wink went back to tossing.
At this point the clock was ticking and the sweat was accumulating on the back of my neck. Now, if you’re familiar with Heathrow Airport you will understand what was about to transpire. A massively huge, global transport hub, Heathrow is not just five terminals it is really five distinct, cavernous freestanding airports teeming with people from every corner of the world wearing every kind of sari and burka you can imagine. Being the professional that I am, you would think that I might have had some knowledge of its complexity, but my expertise miserably failed me at that moment.
As my bus pulled up the driver announced, “Terminal 1.” I politely asked, “What terminal is South African Airways located in?” Impatiently peering into my desperate eyes, he answered brusquely, “Mate, I have no idea, do I look like the information desk?” My mistake in not having that information cost me dearly as I took the bus back and forth from terminal to terminal. Forget about finding anyone who knew the answer or even spoke English. At this point I found myself in Terminal 3, dripping sweat, disheveled and thinking “I’m not cut out for this, I need to get back to North Carolina.”
Suddenly in the distance, I made out the letters “SAA: South African Airways.” My heart was pounding as I realized that taking the trip of a lifetime might still be possible. Arriving at the ticket counter, I felt numb. Speaking in that distinct English accent the young agent inquired, “Can I help you, sir?” Exchanging pleasantries, I gave her my paper ticket showing that I had indeed paid the taxes for the ticket. Then she said, “Sir, it’s very late. We are within 10 minutes of closing the gate door for the flight. How will you be paying for the $499 US overweight charges?”
I was floored. In international travel, baggage rules are set by the initial carrier. I was over limit on my outbound flight and had paid the charges but had nothing to prove it. No ticket, no boarding pass, so as far as SAA knew, my trip was originating in London. Well, 100 lbs. is NOT 20 kilos. I was out of time. I forked over my credit card and hustled to security only to break the zipper on my backpack. Luckily, security personnel saw my badge and said, “Don’t worry, send it through with camera inside.” Then I was off at full speed alongside the gate agent, walky-talky in hand, ordering his coworker to hold the last seat. I thought that the gate must be pretty close but when I looked up I saw a blaring sign noting that it was in fact a “brisk” 20 minute walk from there. Hah!
I finally got to the gate and dragged my sore, aching body up to the counter where the kind young agent told me that the flight was delayed 1 hour so I had plenty of time, and that he would call me when he had my boarding pass. My journey continued when I finally received it and boarded a jumbo jet bound for Johannesburg where I was sure to make many more blunders.
The moral of this story is you should listen to the advice you give every day and employ it in your own life! But also, even airlines employees make mistakes and everyone is human just trying to have their “adventure of a lifetime.”