O O Ø O O O O
Stranded
As current holder of the rotating office of Director of the pd.o’s Consumer Affairs division, I feel duty-bound to relay the following account of a recent travel experience.
At the end of February, my wife and I flew to the island of Maui to visit with friends and their two kids. We stayed at their house, and benefited from free rent, meals, and guided, chaufered tours. We surfed, snorkled in shark-infested waters, watched countless humpback whales breach, and drank an unspecified number of excellent Tahitian beer. Also, the sushi was killer.
If only the journey home was so flawless.
We were happily reading and solving Sudoku puzzles in Kahului’s careworn and modernist international airport (OGG), when we began to notice that our departure time had slipped. No worries, I was only on puzzle nine of 204, so I could comfortably fill a few more minutes in the waiting area.
Abruptly, an announcement was made. There was a problem with our aircraft, and they were sorting it out. Sorry for the delay. Young women in flowery dresses fanned into the crowd of passengers, handing out packaged halves of oranges filled with sorbet. (Strangely, manufactured in South Africa.) We were momentarily placated.
Before we knew it, another announcement was made. The problem with our plane could not be fixed in Maui. Just like that, our flight was shelved.
On top of the mechanical-electrical failure of the vessel–something to do with a backup central display unit–Harmony Airlines now had the problem of its stranded passengers. Kahalui Airport is not open around-the-clock, and we were now facing a delay of many hours while a replacement part was being flown in from the mainland. Apparently airline representatives canvased local hotels, and concluded there was no room at the proverbial inn.
As the apparent inconveniences began to mount, Harmony struck a different tact. They would fly us to another nearby island, and put us up at a hotel there, while they repaired the aircraft. How would we get there, if our plane was out of commission? Apparently the pilots were willing to fly from island to island without two CDUs, but across the Pacific was out of the question. We were going to risk it.
So they flew us to Oahu, and put us up at the Waikiki Beach Marriott. That’s when the real trouble began.
First, they assigned us a chaperone whose job it was to keep us updated and on time for our designated pick-ups. Between her chattering and the gate-to-door bus service, I hardly completed any further Sudoku puzzles.
It was evening by the time we made it to the hotel desk, where we were intercepted by an airline-booking specialist. We were informed that they could only provide king-sized beds. On top of that inconvenience, the lobby was the better part of a small city block away from the tower we were in. It’s a good thing they chauffered us to the door.
After schlepping several dozen yards to our room, we were freshening up the best we could under the circumstancs (Ooh! Shower cap.) when there was a knock on our door. Turn-down service.
Yes, that’s right, the turn-down women showed up after we had arrived, and while we were still in our room. Suffice to say, we had to put the chocolates and orchids on our own pillows that night.
The airline provided us with a meal voucher for the hotel restaurant, but all they had on the menu was prime rib buffet. Washing supper down with Stella (at our expense, I might add), we decided to pound pavement to find some clean underwear. (In a fit of air travel solidarity, all the passengers voted not to unload any of the checked luggage. It was an all-or-none vote, and we all thankfully decided to avoid the hastle of checking luggage at an American airport for a second time, at the cost of potentially going commando for the flight home.)
Does anyone have any clue how hard it is to find a department store on Kalakaua Avenue? Swimming suits and sunblock, not a problem. We had to walk the entire length of the high street (it was warm) until we ran into a Banana Republic. (Ooh! Chinos.) We window shopped at expensive boutiques on the way back to the Marriott.
Returning to the hotel, we discovered the airline had only provided toothbrushes and toothpaste. No deodorant. Luckily we had stopped at the ABC store on the street and purchased some, along with a 750mL Heineken. But even this brought us grief. We searched the hotel room, but couldn’t locate a bottle opener. Yes, that’s right. No bottle opener. We had to call the front desk.
We split our beer on our semi-circular porch, watching the waves crash against Waikiki Beach. There were only two chairs on the porch however, and I had nowhere to put up my feet. (Unless I were to have gone inside to get another chair from the suite.)
After watching the Colbert Report, we somehow managed to fall asleep in our ridiculous bed. Seriously, who needs eight pillows?
In the morning, the iron that I used to straighten our new Banana Republic clothing didn’t have any presets for different fabrics, and the ironing board was difficult to open. It made a screeching sound that was quite unpleasant to the ears.
Breakfast at the hotel–also on Harmony–was belgian waffles. Even those turned out to be a hassle, as we couldn’t flag down the waitress to tip her, as that was apparently already included.
Before much longer we were back on the bus and in the grasp of our crisis coordinator. She got us shepherded through the airport and to the gate successfully (Honolulu’s Airport is stunning, by the way). But with the extra time available, I bought a Manga comic book, and it turned out to be printed backwards. If it’s not one thing, it’s the other.
Then they credited us a free return flight to Maui. We made it home safely about 24 hours later than expected.
Best. Delay. Ever.
Evan Spence
May 30, 2006
OOØOOOODCCLVI
May 30th, 2006 at 12:22 pm
I’m sure Air Canada would have provided a bottle opener in your hotel room. Right? Right? .. whaddya mean - you don’t think there’d even be a bed? … yeah, that’s true.
May 30th, 2006 at 7:48 pm
I hate you.
No, really.
I flew Mapleflot because I had to today. I left my hotel at 0800GMT and arrived at my home at around 0000GMT. My luggage didn’t. I knew this in Saint John’s and in Halifax, but do you think I could even get an ACow to listen to me? Hell no.
Prime Rib. I didn’t even get a “sorry we still can’t figure out how to put you and your bag on the same plane”.
I think I’m gonna apply to be a greeter. They don’t have to travel, and I’d have some new stories.
May 30th, 2006 at 11:59 pm
Wow. That sounds like they did a much better job of trying to keep people happy than American Airlines did a few years ago. The most pleasent part was how they lost our luggage on the trip out east and then again on the trip back. (It really was worse than that and they wouldn’t help find a hotel room, taxi, etc, let alone pay for it.)
I have never had problems with Air Canada and I prefer their flight down to San Francisco over the United trip back to Calgary. In general also find the people at YYC friendlier than SFO.
May 31st, 2006 at 9:20 am
Last year I was all mad at Harmony. Then we actually flew the damn airline and ate the fricken frozen half-lemon (you got orange?) and drank the free wine and wrapped the pretty free leis around the stuffed platypus (not a euphemism) and enjoyed our extra blankets.
Next time I will save my uninformed opinions for politics and celebrity cults!
June 2nd, 2006 at 7:59 am
Now that you bring it up, I would have preferred lemon.