Delta Airlines ordered to pay customer money for cancelled flight

by Jamie Rhein on

Oh, it’s so satisfying when the little guy fights back and wins. I have no idea how big Mitchell Berns actually is, but he took on Delta Airlines in small claims court and won.

As the story goes, Delta canceled a flight that Mr. Berns was to take using bad weather as an excuse. When delays or cancellations are because of bad weather, airlines don’t have to cough up refunds. Delta’s solution was to book Berns on a red-eye flight which he refused to take. As he found out, the bad weather had yet to start. It wouldn’t be happening for hours later.

Pooh pooing Delta’s explanation, Berns booked a flight home on JetBlue and then filed the claim against Delta that was equal to the cost of the JetBlue ticket. That seems fair. It’s not like he was claiming pain and suffering. The court sided with Berns because no one from Delta showed up for the court appearance.

The moral of the story is to stick up for yourself when you can when it comes to travel. It’s almost like becoming a dog with a bone. I have my own dog with a bone story.

Once when I was flying from La Guardia to Albuquerque, I was bumped off the flight because the airline wanted to switch to a smaller plane. As I saw other people arrive after me be given seats, I complained. (This was when seats were assigned first come first serve at the airport.) The airline personel told me that the computer was randomly picking who would get on the flight. Ha!! That’s rich! I thought.

After refusing to leave and continuing to politely, but incessantly complain, the ticket counter person gave me a taxi voucher to go to John F. Kennedy Airport and rerouted me since there was a flight leaving from there that I could take. This allowed for me to make my connection in St. Louis and arrive in Albuquerque when I wanted to.

There is something about these small wins that gives one hope that ones well-being is important indeed.

Galley Gossip: There’s more to Miami than La Carreta

by Heather Poole on

“There’s more to Miami than La Carreta,” said the well dressed passenger seated in 9D, the seat directly in front of my jump seat, as we slowly climbed to our cruising altitude.

“Oh I don’t know about that!” I laughed, as I loosened my seat belt so I could lean into the aisle and see why the woman three rows back kept waving her hands at me.

“The seat belt sign is on,” I told the woman as I pointed to the ceiling, at the illuminated seat belt sign, after she had asked if she could go to the restroom. “I’ll let you know when it’s safe to get up.”

NOTE: If the flight attendant is still sitting in the jump seat, you should certainly be seated in your seat. It’s not safe to get up yet.

The passenger wearing the nice suit seated directly in front of me just shook his head. Then he looked at the handsome guy with the longish hair from Chile sitting beside him and said, “tell Heather there’s more to Miami than La Carreta!”

The Chilean just smiled at me sweetly, so I smiled back. I don’t think he even knew what we were talking about. But the father and son team from the Dominican Republic wearing matching New York Yankee ball caps across the aisle from the Chilean knew exactly what the stylish one and I were talking about, because in unison they cried, “there’s more to Miami!”

Now this conversation began right after the passenger, the well dressed one, had asked “Do you fly to Miami often?”

“No. Not really,” I said. “Not if I can help it. I can’t even remember the last time I had a layover in Miami.” Then I went on to explain why I’m not a fan of the New York – Miami trips, which had more to do with the Miami International Airport than Miami itself.

“I think you need to give Miami another shot. It’s a fantastic city!” he interrupted.

I’m sure it is. But how would I know? Long gone are the days when I can actually do something on my layover other than shower, eat, and sleep. You see my Miami is not his Miami – the sexy exciting international Miami. Oh no. My Miami is a four hour sit at the airport between flights. My Miami is wearing a navy blue polyester dress and sweating my you know what off as my hair begins to frizz because of the heat and humidity inside the airport terminal. My Miami is swarms of passengers carrying too much heavy luggage wrapped in plastic. My Miami is a plane full of scantily dressed passengers who get angry as soon as they realize we don’t have blankets on board. My Miami originates from New York. Enough said?

I explained this to the well dressed passenger after the flight attendant working in first class made the announcement that it was safe to use electronic devices. Of course the woman three rows back who had waved her hands at me earlier began waving the hands again.

“Not yet. Soon,” I told her as I pointed to the seat belt sign again.

The woman began to crawl over her seatmate anyway.

I shook my head and yanked on my own harness straps for emphasis. “I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

She sat back down.

Turning my attention back to the well dressed one, I added that even though the New York – Miami route isn’t my favorite trip, I do get excited, probably a little too excited, about one thing – La Caretta.

La Caretta is a popular Cuban restaurant located in concourse D outside of security. Apparently, according to the well dressed one, La Carreta has several locations in the city of Miami, but, as you know, I only have time to go to the one located at the airport. Trust me, it’s worth leaving the secured area for the food at La Caretta, no matter how long the lines.

White rice and black beans with a sprinkling of onions and cilantro and a side of beef picadillo and plantains, that’s what I order each and every time I pass through town. The best part about La Carreta, besides the good food, are the reasonable prices. The large portions aren’t bad, either. Don’t you know I can eat it all – it’s that good!

Of course, after La Carreta it’s off to Versailles for a cafe con leche.

La Carreta is as close to the city of Miami as I get these days. And I imagine it will be a very long time before flight crews see long layovers again. So when someone tells me there’s more to Miami than La Carreta, I am forced to disagree. For me, and other flight attendants, La Carreta is the light at the end of the tunnel, especially when you’re working the New York – Miami route.

Galley Gossip: Naked on a plane – everything you ever wanted to know, and more…

by Heather Poole on

I can’t remember the precise destination we were working, but what I do remember was the shocked look on my coworkers face when he came running up to the first class galley and exclaimed, “There’s a naked woman in coach!”

“What!” two of us cried in unison.

Needless to say, the breakfast service was now on hold. How could we serve bagels when there was a nekkid lady aboard the flight? Into the oven the bread went, and off and running we went, ignoring any passengers who may have tried to wave us down as we headed straight to the the back of the airplane, a blur of four dressed in blue.

“There she is. The last row,” said one of my coworkers as we neared the last row.

“Oh my god,” I remember thinking, or saying, I can’t remember, it was just too crazy to remember. What I do remember is she was young, cute, and naked. College aged, I’d say.

Now this was pre 9/11, so the flight was empty, and the thought of terrorists were the furthest from our minds. The only thing on our minds, besides this naked lady, was why in the world the lady would get naked on the airplane in the first place? Unfortunately, we would never find out.

Quietly the young woman sat in her seat with the seat belt buckled across her…umm…naked…lap, and smiled. I think I may have smiled back, but in all honesty, I can’t remember. I mean we’re talking naked lady here!

The one not wearing clothes had decided to take it all off right after she exited the lavatory, which was right after the flight attendants in coach had pulled the beverage cart up to the front of the coach cabin. Totally naked, as in one hundred percent nude, she sat down in the last row, which was where she continued to sit, naked and alone, until the flight attendants rolled the cart back to her seat. I’m sure there was quite a loud gasp from the one placing a napkin on the tray table when he realized what it was that hid behind the table.

“Ma’am, you need to put your clothes back on!” demanded one of my coworkers.

We all stood there, hovering over the woman and nodding in agreement. Never in a thousand years would I have ever dreamed I’d be listening to a coworker ordering a passenger to get dressed. To help open an emergency exit, maybe. To put on a pair of panties, never.

Each of us tried to coax the woman back into her clothes, but she wasn’t having it, not when she had other things in mind, like returning to her original seat. Which normally would be fine. However climbing over the seats, three rows of them, naked, was not fine.

Now that wasn’t my only naked passenger experience. Thirteen years ago when I worked for Sunjet, a low cost carrier, an elderly woman decided to take off all of her clothes and then she decided to get off the “bus” by trying to open the emergency exit in flight. This, of course, scared the heck out of the passengers seated nearby, who watched in horror as she pulled on the door, a door that can not be opened, no matter how hard one tries, in flight.

Why all this talk about naked passengers? Iva Skoch’s post, Passenger strips nude, tries to open emergency exit, led me to start writing about my own personal experiences, which in turn led to a little research on flying nude, which has resulted in an awful lot of information about flying in the buff.

Obviously, the passengers mentioned above weren’t exactly…well…they just weren’t well! I mean normal people, at least the normal people I know, don’t take it all off on a flight. But for those of you who are…umm…well…and actually interested in stripping down at 35,000 feet, you can do so one of two ways. Apparently flying “the way god intended” is all the rage in Germany right now. But if you can’t get to Germany, you can hope and pray that Naked Air takes off again, like they did in 2003, and then you, too, can take it all off after take off.

WAIT….before you click the following link to visit the Naked Air Website, please be aware that there are nude photos on the site, very disturbing nude photos of naked people, naked people who should probably not be naked, based on the way they look naked – except for sneakers – on an airplane. Remember, you were warned. Now GO!

For those of you still with me, you may have a couple questions, like I did when I first realized this kind of thing was actually going on. (Someone please tell me why it is going on?) Below are a few questions and answers I pulled from the Naked Air website…

What about the flight crew and attendants…were they naked too? No… they can’t be. The pilots and the flight crew will remain dressed as they always do. We need to remember that the flight crew and attendants have a serious job to do… and that’s to get us to our destination safely.

Hot coffee on a nude flight? …Ouch! For that reason we did not offer hot beverages on the flight, but we did have appropriate snacks and beverage service for the time of day that we traveled.

Hey…everyone was naked…hmm…could they do whatever they want? The Naked-Air nude flight was exactly what it were advertised as… a chance to fly nude and make a little history in the process. The flight was a lot of fun to be sure… but any sexually suggestive behavior or advances to any other passengers would have been inappropriate for this flight, and absolutely forbidden. This rule was well known by all of our passengers in advance of booking would have been strictly enforced, if necessary… but it wasn’t. Nudists are nude… not lewd!

Did everyone have to get naked before they got on the plane? NO, because everybody knows that it’s way too cold in the terminal building. Seriously… the basic rules were that all passengers did the check-in, went to the gate, boarded the plane just like any other flight. It’s only after the plane took off and reached cruising altitude that the rules changed. Once cruising altitude was reached all the passengers were then free to get out of their clothing.

So what about hygiene and things like that? If you have ever been to a nudist or naturist resort or gathering, you would know that the one item that you are to have with you at all times, is a towel to sit on. This flight was no different. We provided special commemorative towels for that purpose, We required those towels (or our clients own towels) to be used at all times.

Still with me?

All I can say is thank god for those commemorative towels.

Galley Gossip: Snacks on the plane

by Heather Poole on

“Diet Coke,” says the passenger after I ask him what he’d like to drink. While I’m filling a plastic glass full of ice, he asks the question I hoped he wouldn’t ask, “Can I get a sandwich?”

“Oh…ummm…I’m sorry.” I make a face, the I’m-sorry face, because I am sorry. Really, I am. I’m sorry I have to say I’m sorry all day long. “We ran out,” I continue, and before I can tell him that we actually ran out of anything and everything edible on the airplane, he asks “What else do you have?”

I take a deep breath, because I really don’t want to tell this guy we have nothing, not one thing, so I make the face again, the I’m-sorry face, and decide to make light of the situation. “Diet Coke. Sprite. Diet Sprite. Pepsi. Diet Pepsi. Orange juice. Apple Juice.” He’s looking at me like I’m crazy, so I make the face again, oh you know the one, and say, “I’m sorry, but we ran out of everything. There’s no more food.”

“What do you mean there’s no more food!”

“We ran out of food,” I say again, as I oh so gently place a can of Diet Coke and a glass of ice on his tray table. What I don’t say is that we ran out of food hours ago, due to the fact the passengers were starving because of the hour and a half weather delay we took on the ground. What this passenger and I do not know, and will not know for another hour, is we’re going to have another hour and a half delay in flight because the airport in New York is closed due to more bad weather . “Sorry,” I say again, and I am, sorry I’m forced to say sorry all day long.

“This is ridiculous!”

I agree, it is ridiculus, but that’s the way it is.

Last week Iva Skoch wrote about Passengers Revolting on a flight out of Beijing that was canceled due to weather. Fifty-two pasengers refused to leave the aircraft, so they slept on the plane for over twelve hours. “The biggest irony,” Iva wrote, “And something I can’t see happening on America’s cash-strapped airlines, the flight attendants kept serving food and drinks to the protesters.”

Well there are two reasons you won’t see flight attendants in America serving drinks and food to “protesters” onboard a canceled flight throughout the night until the wee hours of the morning, when the airline is finally able to get people onboard another aircraft.

  1. No food. At least there’s not enough to serve to everybody onboard. Sorry. These days flights aren’t catered full. Why? Don’t ask me. I’m just the messenger. But I’m sure it has something to do with those silly fuel prices. But who wants to eat airplane food that’s been sitting on an airplane for hours anyway? We’re talking astronaut food, people! We’re talking there’s a reason the fruit in first class doesn’t turn brown by the end of the flight.
  2. No money. Flight attendants aren’t making a dime until the aircraft door has been shut and the airplane has backed away from the gate. Now keep in mind we’ve already worked the first hour of our day for free, which is by far the most chaotic part of flight – boarding. And you’re right, we did agree to work that first hour for free when we took the job, but there’s no way, no freakin way, we’ll work one hour more. Would you?

Which brings me to the point of this post (there is one, I promise) – snacks. I’m talking food. You should bring some the next time you travel. At least something. Anything! An apple, a cereal bar, instant oatmeal, whatever.

I know exactly what you’re thinking. Why should you have to bring your own food when you paid for a ticket? Because you paid for a seat. That’s it. And as soon as you realize that, the better your flying experience will be. I’m sorry (always sorry) but that’s the reality of the situation. Unfortunately traveling today is like a real life episode of Survivor. You never know what’s going to happen next and you never know when you’re going to eat again.

Oh I know it’s inconvenient to pack food. Trust me, I’m right there with you, carrying a white plastic grocery bag full of Jiffy peanut butter to-go, a brown banana, two slices of multi-grain bread, and an old package of instant oatmeal, as I undress my way through security and make my way through the terminal – Just in case! Forget the clothes, the books, the DVD – pack the food! Mechanicals, weather delays, and cancellations do happen, and they happen often.

Take my five hour flight yesterday that turned into seven and a half hours of starvation for the people onboard who didn’t bring food, or purchase food when they had the chance. Me, I had a chorizo and egg breakfast burrito from La Salsa at the San Diego airport early that morning and I was STILL starving by the end of that flight! I actually got down on my hands and knees and dug through a dirty first class cart looking for something, anything, to get me through the last hour. But there was nothing – not one thing to be had. Which is why most flight attendants I know always – ALWAYS – bring their own from home.

Oh hold on a sec, my cell is ringing… “Hello?”

“Flight Attendant Poole?” asks the stern voice on the other end.

Oh no. The company. What now? “Yes, this is flight attendant Poole.”

“Your flight to San Francisco tonight has been delayed.”

Galley Gossip: Flight Attendant Pet Peeve #2: Back to your seat, please!

by Heather Poole on

Socks on the airplane have been the subject of many conversations in the galley. As well as the cause of a flight attendant nightmare or two. Personally, I don’t care what you wear – shoes, socks, even no socks – but it’s where those shoes (socks and even no socks) are headed that bothers me. Why? Because they’re wandering up and down the aisle and into the lavatory. And…umm…you do realize that’s not water on the bathroom floor, right?

The socks have just exited the bathroom and have now entered the galley.

“Excuse me, miss, can I get a glass of water?”

“Of course,” I say, as I place my lunch on the counter and try not to flinch when I see the socks. I reach for a plastic cup and a bottle of water as you inch your way closer to me. I smile. You smile. We’re both smiling as you slowly bounce up and down on the toes, jangling loose change in the pocket.

“Here you go,” I say, handing you the glass, but before I can even twist the cap back on the bottle of spring water, you say, “A little more, please.”

“Oh sure.” I untwist and pour. Hey, you don’t have to explain it to me. The glass is small. You’re thirsty. I get it. That’s fine.

But now you’re peeking inside an insert. I imagine you’re thinking to yourself, hmm…what do we have in here? Just orange juice and dry ice, I want to say, but don’t, because that’s when I notice you’re eyeing a cup of lemons and limes with a little too much intensity. I’m just about to ask you if you’d like one, when I watch in horror as a hand reaches inside and takes a few.

You smile at me, so I smile back at you, even though I no longer feel like smiling due to the fact you’ve just stuck your hand in there without asking, a hand that recently exited the lavatory before entering the galley. I make a mental note to toss the lemons and limes as soon as you leave. Then I find myself wondering if you’re ever going to leave, because you’ve just placed your empty cup on the counter and you’ve decided to enjoy the view outside by cupping your hands around the small port hole located on the other side of the galley. Now I can’t breathe. Why? You’re still in the galley. Don’t you know it’s against federal aviation regulation to loiter around the galleys and lavatories. Didn’t you hear the captain’s PA?

Guess not. Because you’ve just draped your arms over the other jumpseat, the one right beside me, resting your chin on your arms as you take in a view from the back of the cabin. I try to remain calm. Surely I won’t have to say anything because you’ll be taking your seat anytime now, right?

Wrong.

You bend over and touch your toes. You’ve decided this would be the perfect time to start doing those doctor recommended calisthenics. While you’re bending and stretching, I’m about to have a nervous breakdown. I’m sorry, but I do get a little claustrophobic from time to time. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because your butt is now in my face.

Look, unless you’ve actually been invited into the galley (it does happen), you do not – I repeat – you do not, for any reason, step onto the linoleum floor – for any length of time. And if you do, try to make it quick. Do not loiter. Do not help yourself to whatever you happen to see. And please do not bring your baby to the back to crawl around. It’s filthy in there. Not to mention, we break glass in there. And do you really need to do your exercising in the galley? Can’t you simply take a walk the length of the cabin to get the blood flow going when the seat belt sign is not on. I mean is Pilate’s really necessary?

Imagine I came to your place of work and peeked into your drawers and helped myself to all those little nicknack’s you have on your desk – ya know, the jelly beans, the picture of the wife and kids, the Rubik’s cube. What’s the problem? I just came by to say hi. To see what’s up. Don’t really care if you’re eating lunch or in the middle of a project. Not when I want to be near you. What’s the big deal? I’m just taking a break. Stretching the legs. Inviting whomever passes to join me in your tiny little office space. Mind if I do a few lunges in here? Right beside you. Rubbing up against you. Hey, you gonna eat that sandwich?

Admit it, you’d get a little annoyed, too. Now go back to your seat. The seat belt sign is on.