So I’ve mentioned once or eleventy times about Pinterest and how it’s helping me do everything from weekly meal planning to plan for Tony’s next birthday party. But I also have a random board that is SOLELY for me to put stuff that makes me laugh. Now that I have set the stage, I share.

So, remember how I said how I got home from Austin was another post entirely? THAT IS MY TRUTH, Y’ALL.

I cannot stand when bloggers take to the internet to trash talk a company that did them wrong, even though I’ve done it before, because I believe that there’s a difference between shitty customer service (which a company can rectify) and a shitty circumstance (that can’t be fixed, although perhaps later compensated for). As such, I won’t name the airline that I used and instead shall use a very elaborate code to disguise their identity. This process is something of WikiLeaks complexity, let me assure you, so don’t bother trying to decipher it. I will call this company: Schmelta.

Like I imagine most airlines do, Schmelta has a benefit to current and retired employees that allows them to fly at a steeply discounted rate. I’d say the savings on an employee pass is roughly about half the cost of the ticket. I mean, that’s a great perk, right? Ideally?

My father-in-law worked for Schmelta for many, many years and as such offered to hook me up with an employee pass for my trip to Austin. Since I was budgeting for this trip out of my own pocket (through voiceovers and other freelance stuffs), I was thrilled at the opportunity, because let’s face it – reduced ticket price = more moolah for food.

Schmelta’s employee pass comes with a long list of restrictions about your flying. What kind of attire you should be wearing (business casual), what you’re allowed to enjoy on the plane (no alcoholic refreshments), how early you should be (one hour early). I was kind of tickled about that, but I thought, hey! Cheap ticket! I’ll fly in a chicken suit if it helps.

Getting there was a piece of cake. I learned the stand-by process pretty quickly: your getting on the plane lies solely in a purchased/revenue ticketholder not showing up. You learn to pray that someone on your flight has a debilitating stomach virus or there’s a huge pile-up on the highway outside the airport or TSA got alerted and is locked down. ANYTHING. But like I said, although I was bumped once, I still arrived in Austin relatively optimistic.

GETTING HOME. Lord, y’all. Schmelta has an interesting business model which – I’m guessing – helps them stay competitive in this economy with these gas prices. Or whatever. But their model is that they purposefully oversell all of their flights by 5-10 people. Seriously. They assume some people won’t show up, so instead of having empty seats (you know, for us second-class citizen non-revenue ticket holders), they just move people down the line. OR, in the case of every flight in a 30 hour period, they just bump the oversells to the next flight.

Which snowballs.

Into even revenued tickets being stranded. Us standbys? Oh, we don’t stand a chance.

In 30 hours, ONE non-revenue passenger was allowed on a flight. One. (It was not me.)

And what sucks is that there’s NO recourse. None. The fact that you’ve been waiting for over 24 hours – literally sleeping in the freakin’ airport – makes you no higher in priority. So if some college kids overslept their FOUR-THIRTY-PEE-EM flight, they still make it on the next flight before you. You are relegated to Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic.  I’ve always taught my children to speak with respect and courtesy to customer service folks, but in standby world? It gets you nowhere. Because it DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE YOU’RE NEVER LEAVING.

I finally just ended up shelling out the dough to buy a ticket to the first connection – not even HOME, mind you, because that would’ve cost me a cool grand – and that one flight cost me more than the entire round trip ticket was priced when I started looking in August. SO. Lesson learned.

1) Don’t fly standby. Buy a real ticket, because that way, you’re a “paying customer”. (Quotes are because you still pay for an employee pass. Which was the most infuriating part.) At least you have some form of recourse if you’re considered “revenue”.

2) LIVE IN YOUR CARRY-ON. Oh, y’all, I was of the naive assumption that carry-ons are too much trouble. On the flight in, I scoffed at those people who avoided checking a bag and lived only in what they could carry. THOSE PEOPLE HAVE OBVIOUSLY FLOWN ON STANDBY BEFORE. I had no cell phone charger, no toothbrush, no change of clothes. In the future, I will only take what I can fit in a carry-on. Hand to God.

3) TALK TO THE TICKETING AGENT. The afternoon agent at our gate was a lovely lady who looked like this lady from Bridesmaids:

(Yes, she was more beautiful than Cinderella. She smelled like pine needles and had a face like sunshine.)

(Damn, I love that movie.)

But yes, she was kind of my personal cheerleader. And when she arrived for her shift the next day, she looked at me sadly and said, “Oh. You’re still here.” To which I was like, NO SHIT HELP ME. There was one ticket left on the next flight and she kindly held it for me until I could figure out the funding situation. But seriously, talk to the ticketing agent. They may not be a lot of help (I asked one agent her advice and she said – SWEAR TO JEEBUS – “Rent a car and drive to another airport.”), but sometimes, they are. And they are your ONLY ally in flight.

4. PICK YOUR SEATMATES WISELY. I only say this because I hunkered down in front of the ONLY tv in Austin airport (mostly because Judge Judy was on it) and thought I might get a couple of minutes of sleep when I heard the lady next to me sobbing about wanting to go home. Dude, no judging here – I was totally with her on that one. Then she leaned over and yakked all over the floor in front of me. Awesome day, that one. Awesome awesome.

Lastly, and this one’s important -

5. ACCEPT HELP. I did not follow this one. At all. Because I think I’m a grown-up and I should never need help. Five or six Blathering ladies local to Austin offered to come get me. Or bring me wine. Or meet me for lunch. Or anything you could imagine and I turned them all down because I felt like I was being needy. Looking back – I WAS needy. I WAS STUCK IN AN AIRPORT. I should’ve accepted – at the very least – the invitation to spend a couple of minutes with a smiling face. I regret that.

Anyway, that was my trip home. I have been scarred for life and may never fly again. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration because I kind of love flying. (Am I the only one who pretends they’re on the space shuttle when they lift off? And land? And in between?) But I will never, ever fly Schmelta ever again, that’s for damn sure.

Three regrets. Didn’t buy a real ticket (early enough). Didn’t ask for help. TOTALLY MISSED THE ANGEL SIGHTING.

But I’m home.