United to become second airline to charge for FIRST checked bag

by Grant Martin on

Chicago based United Airlines became the second main carrier to charge for checking one article of luggage this morning, following American Airlines announcement last month.

Fees for the first bag will now be 15$, the second will be 25$ and fees for additional and oversized bags will significantly increase.

The new policy goes into effect June 12 and doesn’t apply to First, Business or elite members.

Expect more changes like this to come for the other legacy carriers, including Delta, Northwest and Continental. It’s only a matter of time before they get in line.

Angry at United for making changes to the luggage policy? Tune into Conde Nast, who recently decided that United was the worst airline ever.

Galley Gossip: Stew Shoes (the search continues…)

by Heather Poole on

Ever wonder what flight attendants talk about in the galley behind closed curtains? Oh I bet you do. Most days you’d probably be sorry you asked. For real. It can get a little crazy back there. But recently I had a conversation on-board a flight that was tame enough to share, a conversation that I think all flight attendants at all airlines would be interested in hearing, and it started out something like this..

“I’m sorry,” said Diane, my fellow coworker, as she sat on the jumpseat and quickly looked over her shoulder into the dimly lit coach cabin to make sure no one was listening. No one was listening. No one was even there. All of our passengers were actually in their seats with their seat belts fastened. Most likely because we’d already finished the last beverage service of the night, the in-flight movie was just about over, and in less than an hour we’d be touching down in Los Angeles (And on our way to the layover hotel.) That’s when Diane leaned in close and half whispered, “But I just can’t bring myself to do it.”

“Oh my gosh, me neither!” I exclaimed, hopping off the jumpseat in order to grab a glass of water for a passenger who’d stumbled smack dab into the middle of our conversation. I smiled. He smiled. Diane smiled. We all smiled. And then he thanked me for the water and disappeared. Sitting down on the jumpseat closest to Diane, I added, “Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I wish I could do it, really I do, but I can’t. I just can’t do it. I don’t know why.”

We began giggling when the super cute one with the bleached blond hair dressed in navy blue polyester pants and a starched white button down shirt sauntered into the back galley with a full bag of trash in hand, because he had, in fact, actually done it. He’d done what Diane and I could not bring ourselves to do. Not in this lifetime. What the heck did he do? The Dansko clog of course!

In case you haven’t been on an airplane in the last ten years, the Dansko clog is to the flight attendant what the Tumi bag is to the frequent flier. Next time the beverage cart makes a stop at your row, go ahead, take a look, I bet they’re there. They’re everywhere! Just not on my feet.

What happened to be on my feet the night I found myself giggling away with Diane on the jumpseat in the back of coach on a 767 was a brand new pair of shoes that, after one six hour long flight, had turned out to be a huge mistake killing my feet. They needed to be replaced. And fast! So, once again, the search for the perfect flight attendant shoe began. It’s been ongoing for years. Thirteen years to be precise.

All I want is something cute enough to wear through the terminal and comfy enough to walk up and down the aisle, that’s it. But that, I have to say, as most flight attendants already know, is next to impossible to find. Oh I’m done with the whole high-heel-change-into-a-flat thing. Done carting around an extra pair of comfortable shoes in my already overstuffed tote bag that I have to change into as soon as we hit our cruising altitude . I mean all I want to do is put on a pair of shoes before I leave the house and be done with it. That’s it. I’m over it.

Which now brings me to three distinct types of flight attendant shoes (for women) I’ve encountered working the line over the years…

THE NEW HIRE HEEL. These clickity clackers can be seen from miles away, because they’ve probably been paired with a skirt that’s just a tad bit too short, as they strut through the airport terminal. Trust me, there is no freakin way these babies can work a flight, which is why they’re usually the opening act for the Dansko clog. Yes, this is the flight attendant fantasy shoe – for men. (And I’m not just talking about the men in drag.) Add another inch to this heel and these, to me, scream available! At least on the airplane they do, because in real life I…well…maybe, sort of, kind of, like them…kind of, maybe, sort of. Okay okay, so I actually own a pair (or two), so what! I only wear them hidden under a long jean. Not on the airplane. Nor in the terminal. Why? Because they say, “is there anything else I can get you, sir?” (Wink Wink). They belong to Cockpit Connie. Not you. Or do they belong to my flight attendant friend Steven? Or was it me! Jeez, I can’t remember.

THE OVER IT SHOE: Those of you who do not pick up trash at 35,000 feet for a living probably think this shoe belongs hidden behind the cart, or in the back of a closet, or at the bottom of a trash bin, and you’re probably right, but ever since our work days have gotten longer and our layovers have gotten shorter (layover, what layover?) this is the shoe for me. Remember, I’m over it, and because I’m so over it (the shoe, people, not the job!) I can’t even properly explain it. In fact, I don’t even know if it can be explained, whatever it is I’m trying to explain. Or perhaps I’ve just been flying too much.

THE SENIOR MAMA LOAFER: Can you say retire already so I can finally get a little seniority and fall off the reserve list before I’m 50. Seriously people! Believe it or not, the person who now wears these sensible comfy loafers once wore those sexy white patent leather go-go boots with a hot little mini skirt. She did. Really she did. And maybe, just maybe, he did, too. Hey, you never know. So when you see a pair of these tired looking loafers walking down the nasty carpeted aisle, remember where they’ve been. What they’ve seen. And all the things they’ve done. (That you haven’t. And never will.) And don’t forget to aways – ALWAYS – respect the loafer!

What will I be wearing on my next flight? Check out these babies from Beautiful Feel, which I purchased from The Walking Store earlier this week. No, they weren’t cheap, but if they can make my feet feel beautiful while I’m picking up trash at 35,000 feet, feeling oh so not beautiful, I’ll pay whatever it takes. And more.

United Airlines’ 1994 misstep multiplied

by Jamie Rhein on

The less than stellar reputation of United Airlines doesn’t surprise me. (see article) I decided back in 1994 the airlines wasn’t for me. As missteps go, it wasn’t major, but enough to lose two customers that I like to think have snowballed into the airline’s woes of today. Generally, I’m not spiteful, but If the service back then is any indication of what has transpired since, I’m sympathetic to anyone who has flown United.

My story started with the 12 p.m. flight from Los Angeles to Singapore via Tokyo. I was in a buoyant mood at LAX. I had on a new outfit and we had just finished a wonderful three days with friends in who live in Santa Monica, West Hollywood and Orange. We were heading back to Singapore for our second year as teachers after a summer of travel and regrouping. We were well-rested and fit.

The warm fuzzy feeling began to wane over the Pacific as soon as the pilot announced an engine had failed and we were heading to Alaska, but soon after changed this to San Francisco. I had just finished lunch and the movie had started. Alaska sounded intriguing. San Francisco–not so much. Besides, my mother would soon be getting on a plane in New York on a flight through Frankfurt, Germany to Singapore.

After we stood in line for six hours, getting re-booked on a flight through Hong Kong for the next day, it was clear to me that my mother would be arriving in Singapore before us. Originally, we were to arrive 12 hours before her. Making the best of a bad situation, I phoned a good friend of mine who lived in Livermore close to San Francisco. He was thrilled with the idea of meeting for breakfast.

The bad situation got worse when one of United’s personnel stood up on the ticket counter, waving a toothpaste/toothbrush kit, shouting to the 30 of us left waiting for our hotel vouchers. “There aren’t any hotels left,” he said. “If you want us to put you up, you have to fly back to L.A.”

Say, what? It was 9 p.m. My stomach was rumbling; the food from lunch long gone. “But you have to hurry,” he shouted over the din of protest, pointing us to the direction of the gate where a plane was waiting. The two Polish women who had somehow become separated from their tour group heading for China after the Tokyo transfer, recognized sympathy in our faces and decided we were the ones who knew something. Their English wasn’t the best, so my husband had to explain to them that we weren’t going to Tokyo at this moment, but to LA. The rag-tag group of us clutched our toothbrush kits as we found seats on the last United flight back to L.A.. So far, the kits were our only compensation.

The flight back to L.A. was accompanied by wine–lots of it. The flight attendants walked the aisles pouring from regular sized bottles. The stewardess pressed the remainder of a bottle into my hand before I got off the plane, patted me on the back, and said, “Good luck.”

By that time, my mother was halfway to Frankfurt. The sour woman at United customer service told me that there was no way they could let my mother know at the airport in Singapore where we were. “Great.” I pictured my mom in a country where she hadn’t been before, wondering where we were and unsure of how to find us. If she followed the directions to our apartment, I fretted that she might not find the key where we left it or know how to turn on the air conditioner. Singapore in August is BLAZING hot. There she would be in our living room dripping sweat with no food in the refrigerator wondering when we might show up. These were the days before cell phones.

Back at LAX, we looked for an airport shuttle to take us to the hotel, arriving there 15 minutes before room service ended. The restaurant was already closed. With the $5 phone card, the airline gave us, I started making calls to Singapore to find someone to meet my mom. The assistant principal was home and was more than happy to offer his help. Barely able to down soggy French fries, and a hamburger, I took off my new outfit so it might look halfway fresh in the morning. Our suitcases were who knows where.

The next day, there we were back at the LAX airport for the 12 p.m. flight. Could we get bumped to First Class after all we went through, we wondered? No! Any travel vouchers? No! Eventually, there we were once again flying over the Pacific eating the exact same food we ate the day before–same menu. The movie was also the same. Since I was wearing the same clothes, it felt like the same day, although this time we did make it all the way to Tokyo where we said goodbye to our Polish women friends who didn’t have a clue about when or how they would meet up with the rest of their travel group to China. No one at United was helping them out.

There was my mother and the assistant principal waiting for us at the other side of customs in Singapore.

What was United’s response to the letter I wrote as a complaint? We were each given a $200 voucher, good for any domestic full-fare price over the next year. These were totally not usable given that we were living in Singapore at the time.

The result of the fiasco has meant I haven’t flown United since. Where the airline made its first mistake was not helping me contact my mother–particularly since those of us who flew back to L.A. were not enjoying a hotel in San Francisco with the other passengers and dinner at a reasonable hour. It was the least they could have done. Since that didn’t happen, something else needed to have occurred to sooth our nerves. I can’t imagine what the decision makers were thinking when they sent us back to L.A. and didn’t bump us to First Class at least on the LA to Tokyo leg, even though there was room. These were two easy solutions that would have kept me coming back. Instead, my alliance switched to Northwest and I’ve never looked back.

The photo by Alan Light is a United Airlines flight in 1987. Things sure have changed.

Condé Nast Portfolio weighs in on just how much United Airlines sucks

by Jeffrey White on

Condé Nast Portfolio.com this week calls United the worst airline — ever.

While for many of you out there this probably does not sound like news, the writer — Joe Brancatelli, who pens the Web site’s Seat 2B column — does an admirable job putting United’s dismal performance during the past year into the greater context of its overall history of failure, from deregulation in the late 1970s right the way through to its bankruptcy in 2002.

Consider these facts from Brancatelli:

  • United lost $537 million in the first quarter of this year, more than the next two industry loss-leaders combined
  • United’s passenger decline of 4 percent last month was tops in the industry
  • In the last decade, United has failed twice to sustain a low-cost carrier
  • An attempt in 2000 to merge with U.S. Airways was marred in scandal after it surfaced that the top brass in the deal were structuring things so as to line their pockets
  • United’s on time performance is currently a hair above 70 percent, significantly worse than the industry average

That’s not even mentioning the debacle that was United’s bankruptcy. Brancatelli puts this Christmas 2002 collapse at the heart of United’s current woes, and makes a much better case against the airline overall than the admittedly simplified bullet list above.

Read Portfolio‘s full story here.

Theories on Openskies and the business class market

by Grant Martin on

Blogger Grant and the Crankyflier were recently chewing the fat about OpenSkies airlines, the new business-class-only niche carrier that’s opening up service between New York and Paris later this month. We both considered invitations on the inaugural flight coming up on June 20 but unfortunately couldn’t accept due to previous (and bureaucratic) obligations.

I also noticed that the new carrier is offering members of Flyertalk.com the chance to get one of twenty free seats that the airline is offering exclusively to its members (there’s still time to sign up). It seems like a pretty sweet way to cater to a highly focused market and a great idea.

Is their close connection to the consumer and media base only proactive marketing though? What if they giving away seats not because they’re trying to make a buzz but because they can’t fill them in the first place? We all saw what happened to Silverjet, Eos and Maxjet. What if the business class market dried up before Openskies even got there?

Speculation aside, one thing is for certain: we’ll never know until it’s too late. Take for example a question we asked Openskies in an upcoming Q&A:

GAD: With the recent struggles seen in business-class-only and niche carriers in the transatlantic sector, how do you plan to succeed in a tight market?

OpenSkies: OpenSkies will offer guests superior service, competitive fares and exceptional value. As a wholly-owned subsidiary of British Airways, OpenSkies will combine the expertise of one of the world’s biggest and most successful airlines with the passion of a start up.

Perhaps there is no getting past the PR smoke and mirrors.

We’ll see how things turn out after first flight next week and some of the preliminary loads start coming in. Lets hope that the buzz catches on and that OpenSkies meets wild success.