0574 - NearCollapse

We regret last week’s skipped OO, and the postponement of the announced title. The delay was caused by a trip to Atlanta and an ugly experience with what calls itself the U. S. airline “Industry”. As our Revered Investment Guru has long believed and taught, U.S. airlines bear no relation to a going business. They never have made money, net, and they are currently rushing into and out of (and back into) bankruptcy. Put your money in Czarist bonds instead. But, it used to be possible to take a trip from A to B, or even C, without spending 40 days in the desert.

First of all, the Anguilla airport is under serious reconstruction (far behind schedule) and is not open for heavier planes. Thus, one must first take the ferry to St. Martin, involving standing in line to get your name written in the manifest, then buying a departure tax ticket for EC$8, then having your person – but not your luggage – stroked with a wand, and then waiting for a boat (the ferry schedule is imaginary). Arriving at Marigot you get a taxi to the airport, either taking the direct route through impassible French traffic or the roundabout route through same. After the usual indignities you wait for your American Eagle plane to San Juan (SJU), and are told while filing aboard that most baggage will be left behind. Upon arrival at SJU, the world’s foulest airport, walking miles to wait in both Immigration and Customs lines, it turns out that bags indeed do not arrive. Knowing that all, but all, food at SJU is disgusting, you buy a bag of hermetically sealed stale cashews, walk a mile or so to the new gates, and struggle aboard Delta to Atlanta.

Atlanta is enormous, efficient, and grossly overcrowded. There, you walk additional miles, take a train, walk more, take escalators, find the lost luggage office (doing brisk business), and register your plea for clean underwear. A $35 taxi to hotel and you can walk to sprawling Lenox Mall, where, after another few miles on concrete, clothing can be bought. You repeat the visit the next day until your bag arrives at night. Business (carotid ultrasound) concluded in Atlanta, and much good food consumed, it is time to attempt the return to Anguilla. Repent!

Checking into ATL, even at dawn, is a triumph of will over inspection congestion [good name for a band?]. Feeling feeble, purchase a First Class upgrade for only a C-note, enjoy the flight in the most electronically complex seat known to science, and eat hearty breakfast so as to avoid SJU food. Arriving again at SJU, torture begins in the American Eagle departure room in the cellar. Waiting for three hours, one discovers that AmEagle has systematically overbooked ALL its flights, and is announcing awards up to $250 for those who consent to remain behind. Alas! The OO’s long-confirmed reservation is not honored (on the claim that only a seat assignment is assured butt-room). All SJU AmEagle desk personnel spend nine-tenths of their time talking to each other (about what?) so it takes some time to get to a supposed supervisor and threaten legal action. Get on as the last passenger and go to St. Maarten, where a taxi goes to the ferry terminal and the usual officious fellow takes away the manifest just as you arrive in line, so you are delayed 45 minutes until a boat consents to arrive and fills all seats under officious direction; then bounce over to Anguilla, where the boat won’t offload your bags in the rain. Catch last remaining taxi home, driven by an ancient who believes 12 miles an hour is speeding. Urgent warning and advice: stay home!

Next time: Computation [OO #575]

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