Aviation System Woes, 2022
July 14, 2022: Please don’t do it. My fingers fumble on the mini-keyboard of my cell phone, trying to input the required information, but it is not going well. Sandeep is trying to help me. He’s a nice man, but he will have to close the jetway door in five minutes. I urge silently, please don’t do it, Sandeep. Please! Please!
I’m in this pickle because I received false information hours ago when I inquired at check-in Michigan about any paperwork the airlines might need. My current nightmare began when I arrived at the gate the prescribed hour prior to departure and was met with a brusque, “you can’t use those boarding passes, you need to talk to the agent.”
My bag matched IATA Missing Bag chart #22. Lesson learned: take photos of your own bag & its tags.
The first person provides only vague information. I fumble, I can’t even find the website. Sandeep steps in with the right web address, but the gate area is getting unnervingly quiet. The passport issue and expiry dates refuse to load. The box is only halfway on the screen and I can’t get it to slide over to gain access. All this is on the heels of a half-dozen tries to log in, including multiple password validation codes. My adrenalin-hazed brain is generally unhelpful.
This street art in Windhoek was much-needed cosmic encouragement.
The infuriating thing is, had I not lingered up in the lounge, I may have had enough time. Certainly, fifteen more minutes would have helped keep my head clearer. I may have thought to pull out the tablet rather than trying to do this on my cell phone. I may have thought to ask if they could just look at my real-live, in-person passport and vaccination card since the purpose of the online document was to verify only those two things.
The much-described fabric handle cover (the night the bag arrived).
I sense Sandeep looking at his watch. I can hear other agents mumbling about the need to close the door. “Let’s give it a minute,” he says. “She’s trying.” He tells me I have three minutes. I do all the things I know that help in chaotic moments: breathe, lower my shoulders, focus. As in firefighting, slow is steady and steady is fast. There is an odd vividness to the scene, as if I am watching from overhead. The gate area is now empty except for me and the uniformed agents.
A “help desk” thread with Qatar Airlines, which actually ended up not being the worst culprit. That prize goes to American Airlines.
I can imagine everyone onboard, settling in for the 15 hours over to Doha. I already know I will not be among them, not sipping my wine with dinner, no longer able to look forward to the landing, the layover, the 10 hours down to Africa that will come afterwards. I will remain here, in Dallas/Ft.Worth, looking for the checked luggage they will have to find and eject from my missed flight, looking for a hotel at midnight with their painful same-day rates, looking for the next step.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” He did it. He had to.
We drove the 40km out to the airport multiple times to check on progress with the baggage desk. This was the only reason we learned the initial report had been lost.
Late August, 2022: Of course, my bag did not arrive in Namibia. Well, it did, but not for four weeks. After some time at home now, I look back at that enduring saga of missing luggage, and hard feelings persist:
About the (many) hours spent trying to find my bag instead of being able to enjoy Africa.
About three airlines pointing fingers at each other rather than helping me.
About the baggage desk losing the report I made on my arrival in Namibia, something that didn’t come to light until 10 days into the story.
About the multiple stutter-start online, unhelpful “help desk” experiences with all three involved airlines.
About the annoying airline music looping for many hours past my ears, including the time I was auto-disconnected after three (!) hours on hold and redirected to a customer satisfaction survey (my responses were not kind).
About an intensely frustrating inability to flush out a real human to speak with.
My bag limped in on that 19:25 4Z-328 flight on Airlinks from Cape Town at last.
The whole situation stole a boatload of time from an otherwise excellent African journey. Finding my missing luggage became a frustrating, intractable task. On the final Friday, I devoted eight hours to it, pressing my case via every means possible.
Long story made short: the bag finally arrived, on the last possible evening flight to arrive in Windhoek the day before my departure. At least the bag was intact and unopened, and I could finally deliver to my very patient host the gifts inside. I opened the bag, removed the gifts, packed a few items for the journey home, and closed the bag again. (Happy ending: it did arrive with me, but not until the cargo hold was jammed for an hour at the conclusion of the final leg. Yep.)
The “Expedited Baggage” tag told the story. The bag lingered in Dallas nearly the whole time, until it got stalled (again) for five days in Cape Town.
If my experience is any indication, the summer of 2022 aviation system horror stories are real. My missing bag was one of many thousands. Oh, and then I got hit with this: for my next overseas flight, I was informed by email that the original (reasonable) itinerary had morphed into a 9–nine!–hour layover in Philadelphia. What?!
I leaned down and hugged the bag when I saw it at last.
It’s fascinating to me, in a post-traumatic stressful way, how the aviation system seems able to alter itineraries willy-nilly and at their whim, but is unable to do so when I want a change, such as an upgrade to appease my frustration and loss of trust. Funny how, when I pushed back, a much more reasonable itinerary suddenly became possible. I’m going with it. But I’m not checking any bags.
