WHOOP DOODLE!

San Francisco!  I love this place.

On the way here, I sat next a guy flying ultimately to Sacramento.  His inbound flight had been delayed by the heavy thundershowers in Houston early this morning, and he mis-connected to his early SMF flight.  He was routed onto my flight, and then to a connection to Sacto. 

He and the other woman in our row were both kvetching about Continental.  Basically, Continental was clearly inadequate because they didn't call the guy's original outbound back to the gate.

"I could see it through the window, they'd pushed back but they were just sitting there!"

I said nothing.  I just kept reading my book.

The woman on the aisle started in - our flight was scheduled at 11:05, and it was 11:08 - they had already told us we had a very minor maintenance issue - but SHE just KNEW that we were going to be sitting there - captive on the plane. 

Moments later, we were told that the maintenance issue was that a seat back wouldn't lock, and mechanics were working on it.  She just KNEW that they were making an excuse - Continental was clearly about to cancel the flight. 

More people boarded - a steady trickle of people looking for overhead space and a seat.

Now, she just KNEW that Continental was holding out flight to accommodate a few other passengers, that they could cancel another Continental flight later today.

They then closed up the boarding door, but we didn't push back right away.  We were now about twelve minutes after scheduled departure.

My row-mates now began to postulate on just how late we were going to be; my SMF bound neighbor was convinced he was now going to get stuck in SFO, as he'd clearly miss his connection.

The flight crew then told us that the jetway wasn't retracting, that the ground techs were working on it, and that they expected to arrive on time in spite of the late departure.

"Now, why would they say THAT?"  More speculation.

I kept reading my book.  I reflected on my own judgment of their conversation, and decided I needed to take a chill pill.

We were flying on a brand-spanking new airplane, with in seat DirecTV at every seat.  We had six flight attendants, were served a free hot meal, had three drink services, and we arrived on the dot.  Not a single moment later than the schedule had suggested. 

As we taxied into the gate (without delay), my seat mate was suggesting that he had nearly taken a cab across Houston to Hobby Airport, to catch a Southwest flight home.

My ability to hold my tongue evaporated.

"Yes, I've heard that they have better weather"

"Huh?  At Hobby?"

"No.  Southwest.  They have far better weather than does Continental"

I mean, really?  We just flew across the continent in a brand new, clean, safe, comfortable airplane, you just got to watch two feature films AND Fox News at your seat, you were fed for free, we arrived right on time AND for three hundred dollars?

A trip from Houston to San Francisco just fifty years ago would have taken a day.  Seventy years ago would have taken two and a half.  A hundred and fifty years ago, it would have taken MONTHS.

I have a lot more to say about this issue, but I'm gonna stop bitching, and go with David to have some Goat Hill pizza