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Never board a plane without at least five changes of clothes in your carry-on and a strong will to “play through” the junk — because there will be junk.
That is the lesson learned from my recent TransAtlantic flight as part of a Dayton Sister City Committee delegation to Sarajevo, Bosnia, and later to Augsburg, Germany.
This fool thought our luggage — nine carefully packed bags — would reach Sarajevo with us, or at least at some point.
No dice.
A partnership of three well-known airlines proved me a silly head in this inconceivable game of global chicken.
Before a night in Vienna, Austria — an unplanned stop caused by an airline-caused missed connection — we spent four days sweating it out in hotter-than-Hades Sarajevo (I’ll tell you more about the actual trip soon).
While we met with dignitaries and other muckety mucks in sink-washed clothes (I opted for a polka dot top, ballet flats and capri-style gym pants in my carry-on instead of my only other outfit — a floral maxi dress — for the meeting with the U.S. Ambassador), our luggage lived la vida loca five days in the Munich airport.
If not for the tags they collected — “rush,” “hold,” “those fools better get used to those underpants” — one would think that this luggage had gained the powers of invisibility and run off with the Fantastic Four.
The airline partners couldn’t find our bags and then, simply couldn’t figure out how to get them to us.
And why should they? Doing one’s job is hard.
The price of an airline ticket no longer includes customer service or complimentary slippers.
It would be one thing if not having bags the first five days of a nine-day trip was the only problem.
Oh no, day after day the voyage seemingly sought to challenge my resolve to relish new opportunities.
We had issues with check-in. There was the part about being stranded in Vienna — admittedly a pretty awesome place to be stranded in.
And finally the topper, being struck in Washington D.C. — again without luggage — on the way back after an engine issue cause yet another missed connection.
What followed was a “Survivor”-like contest to be booked on a flight heading back to this region — if not Dayton than Cincinnati or Columbus.
The airliner’s staff in D.C. was obviously beleaguered, yelling at customers or ignoring us completely.
No eye contact. No, ‘I am sorry.’ No, ‘I am going to fix this problem.’
It is no wonder so many people have grown to dread voyages on Orville and Wilbur’s invention.
The J.D. Power and Associates study released last month showed that after two years of airline-industry improvements, U.S. passenger satisfaction has declined to 681 index points on a 1,000-point scale from 683 in 2011.
Satisfaction with low-cost carriers increased three index points from 2011 to average 754, but satisfaction with traditional carriers like the one used by my delegation’s trip dropped four points to 647.
The airlines have faced tough economic times since 9/11 and some cost saving measures were necessary, but that shouldn’t give the industry free reign to be awful and incompetent.
My luggage eventually made it to Dayton after its pit stop in Cincinnati. And all-in-all, I enjoyed the trip.
Luckily, it’s not really the journey that counts, but the destination — with polka dot top, gym pants and ballet flats in your carry-on and wondering whether or not you can find a place that sells deodorant.
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