A magnificent Dopefest. An excellent week in LA. A sad “see you later” and lots of kisses to my sweet Shayna. So far, so good.
Now, getting home to Hamburg (via Milan) shouldn’t be much of a problem, right ? After all, Alitalia is a national carrier and should know its ass from a hole in the ground, right ? Right ? WRONG!
Making a long and highly annoying story as short as possible, this is more or less what happened:
[ul]
[li]Alitalia cancels my connecting flight from Milan to Hamburg, putting me on a later flight. 4 extra hours to wait in Milan, great.[/li][li]The later flight is delayed twice, then cancelled. No information. It’s now 21:50 local time and I’m in Milan airport. Oh joy.[/li][li]Locating the information desk (clearly marked “Check-in”), I find a grand total of five employees to reschedule four cancelled flights. I stand in line for just about two hours, magnificent. (At least there’s a few Italian tempers to provide a bit of street theatre.)[/li][li]It takes the utterly clueless girl behind the counter about 40 minutes to reroute me (through Amsterdam!) the day after. Great. It’s not as if I have work to do on Monday, oh no.[/li][li]I do, however, get a hotel voucher. Woo![/li][li]I join a crowd of about 150 people trying to get the hotel booking office in the airport to accept our vouchers and book hotels. There’s a counter, but it’s not used. All communication is shouted though a half-open office door. Vouchers are handed over by holding them in the employees’ faces and praying that they’ll take them. No information is handed out. I seriously consider sleeping in the airport instead.[/li][li]After about an hour, I get a slip of paper with a hotel name and detailed instructions in Italian. I don’t understand Italian. I mangae to follow the crowd for a bus ride to an (actually rather nice) hotel, where I grab a grand total of three hours sleep. Only after convincing the concierge that I’m NOT sharing a room with anyone, though.[/li][li]07:00 - bus ride back to the airport. The bus isn’t big enough to carry us all and cabs are frantically booked. The bus is delayed. At this point, I’m not all that surprised.[/li][li]Boarding the plane to Amsterdam is delayed. Less and less surprised.[/li][li]A crucial slip of paper (the “ticket” for the A’dam-Hamburg leg) is missing from my now rather impressive portfolio - I never got that particular slip. Not at all surprised. I communicate clearly that that’s a problem for Alitalia, not me. Frantic promises about telexes to Amsterdam are made - I remain skeptical.[/li][li]I board the plane for Amsterdam with no tickets for the last leg of the journey, but it’s at least the right direction. We wait, boarded, for about an hour - yet another event that rather completely fails to surprise me. No chance that I’ll make the connecting flight now, but as I have no ticket anyway, I resign to fate.[/li][li]I arrive in A’dam and find (surprisingly, actually) that not only am I booked on a flight to Hamburg, I’m booked for a later flight and will actually make my connection! I regret my skepticism a little.[/li][li]I arrive in Hamburg and by some miracle, my luggage arrives with me. This actually does surprise me.[/li][/ul]
In short, Alitalia: You’re off the list.
I’d rather row. Hell, I’d rather attempt to cross the Atlantic by flapping my arms. Both options are presumably faster and certain to be less aggravating.
That I trusted you to ferry my mortal coil across the Atlantic (not once, but twice) will remain one of my bigger mistakes. Bite me.
S. Norman