The Plight of the Delta

So it just occurred to me that I neglected to share the story of why there is a special circle in hell for Delta Airlines.  So I’ll do that now.  Because I was violated in their friendly skies.

SO.  Tal’s Vegas Bachelorette Party began for me at 7:00 AM at O’Hare Airport in Chicago.  I have flown in and out of here many times, and never had an issue.  SO.  I get through security pretty easily, following my cardinal rule of not taking anything even REMOTELY suspicious in my carry on, since for some reason security LOVES to detain me for the special wand-love and pat-down session.  I am through security by 7:20 for my 9:00 flight.  No problem, I have a trashy magazine, plus the airport has CINNABON, which is God’s gift to travelers.  As I am walking calmly towards my cinnamon destination—definitely not flat out sprinting—I notice the departure board lists my flight as delayed till 10 AM.  No prob.  Cinnabon, Starbucks, OK! Magazine and I will be just fine for a few hours.  By the time I get my breakfast on, the board has changed till 11 AM.  Yikes.  By the time I have finished reading every word of the magazine, including the whole page of editorial staff names, my flight is delayed till Noon.  ARE YOU EFFING ME.  I have to make a connecting flight in Minneapolis at 2:15.  So I get in the growing line of disgruntled passengers to figure out what I am going to do. 

Now it is just past 11:30, and I get to the counter.  The only competent employee of Delta tells me that not only is my flight now delayed till 12:30 PM, but that I will likely miss my connection in MLPS.  I turn on the waterworks, MAYBE tell a TEENSY lie about my reasons for going to Vegas (My baby sister is getting married in Vegas tonight), and the next thing I know I am ticketed on a flight leaving O’Hare at 1:45 PM non-stop to Vegas.  So 6 hours and 45 minutes after arriving at the airport, I am on a flight to VEGAS.  On a different airline, mind you.  The Delta lady was helpful enough to find me a seat on my beloved American Airlines.  They’ve never done me wrong. 

Then VEGAS happens.  I’ve already covered that one.

Going home, I am on another Delta flight.  This time the flight is not delayed, and I get to MLPS with my sister just before 5 PM for my 6 PM connection.  I get off the plane, check my gate, and EFFING MOTHER BARF DELTA DELAYS ME TILL 7.  I hate Delta at this point.  But it gets worse.

So Will (Tal’s Fiancé) picks both of us up, takes us to get some dinner, the drops me back at the airport.  I get to my new gate ready for my 7 PM flight.  Guess what time we actually get on the plane.  Go ahead, guess.  8:10. I want to burn Delta to the ground.

I spent a collective 8 hours in the airport for a weekend trip to Vegas, flying through some of the biggest airports in the country, not Podunk towns where delays and confusion is to be expected.  Oh, and then I got home and found that my luggage had been rifled through and my camera stolen.  It was wrapped and buried inside a bag inside my suitcase.  So congrats to the baggage handlers who really did a great job of digging through my stuff.  You earned my camera with all the pictures of my honeymoon and my sister’s bachelorette party.

Moral of the Story: Delta stole 8 hours of my life and my digital camera.  Fly American Airlines.