Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Air Sick Lesson 5 Part 2 / Arriving at the Airport

I suppose it would one thing if long lines at the check-in counter were a rare occasion, but you would figure that if every day, day in and day out, there were 600 people waiting in check-in lines, common sense would penetrate the thick skull of the airline industry and there would be more people available to help.

Another thing which might help speed up the check-in process would be for the airline industry to embrace some kind of technology which didn’t require 10 minutes of typing into the computer for every transaction you have. Check in for your flight, 10 minutes of typing, seat assignment another 10 minutes, check your bag another 10 minutes. I swear you can launch ICBM’s with less key strokes. I have sat there watching the reps typing into their terminal and the rational behind it escapes me, I simply cannot imagine what in the world requires that much interaction to accomplish a task.

Another factor adding to your weight is that the majority of people in line have their heads so far up their ass reality has completely escaped them. I don’t know how you can get out of bed, get dressed, drive to the airport, get in line, wait two hours then get to the counter and not have any concept of where your going, what you need or how to pay for it. Don’t think it gets any better for the frequent travel lines, you still have the same bumbling, fumbling idiots who probably fly every single week and don’t have any clue what they are trying to do once they get to the counter.

If you want to speed up service at the check-in counter, have a separate line called the “I have my shit together” line. It would require the traveler to have their documentation, ID and method of payment waiting and ready. You must already have a ticket and a destination and know what it is. You are not allowed to ask any questions or make any requests to change seats, upgrade or switch flights. If you so much as open your mouth to do anything but breathe, a bouncer, resembling a Cajun alligator wrestler, standing next to the counter will lift you off the ground by the scruff of your neck and throw you into the terminal riff raff line where you can reflect on your transgressions.

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