We are not equipped to be air travelers. "We" as in my family. As Pete said while he was on hold with Virgin Atlantic for more than an hour the other day, "I already function at too high of a level of frustration." True dat. True for me as well. I lack patience from the moment I get out of bed each day. There are no stores of it within me to put up with the current world of travel.
Pete booked our flights and put in our seat requests when he bought the tickets in January. What did Virgin do? Kicked us all out of our seats for our flight to London. If you'd have heard him on the phone with them before we had even left on vacation, you would have believed they'd have marked his ticket "red alert." Instead, we ended up scoring premium seats upstairs in the 747.
So what happens when checking in online the day before our return flight? Virgin did the same damn thing in terms of seating us throughout the plane. [Let me state that, while I did think it might be a blessing for me to be separated from all of them, that momentary twitch at the very thought of such a luxury was quickly extinguished. Of course I want to sit with my kids. Of course.] No amount of cajoling could get them to change it over the phone. We were simply told to show up early in hopes of having the agent sort it out at the gate.
Sigh. Damn heavy sigh. An even heavier sigh relating to Avis and its complete and utter lack of service both when picking up the car and when returning it.
Eldest bemoaned the likelihood of ever getting to fly Virgin again. That opened up the perfect opportunity to explain how all airlines suck and all car rental agencies stink. It's a lot like health insurance companies, I explained. Or banks. Or utilities. Or school districts. Or politicians.
I will forget yesterday's travel mishaps, which of course included an excruciatingly two-hour long bus ride back home, soon enough, thankfully, and instead remember the incredible time we had in England and Wales. Three kids, three weeks. At least I'm not complaining about that.