Fire and rescue

Moving abroad, there is one thing you can’t really avoid: flying. I am on planes on a regular basis, thanks to my job, and until last August I naively assumed booking a ticket, and paying for it would allow you to get checked in and boarded –excluding in the traditional overbooking hiccups cases.

Flying dog – image courtesy of Teo Jasmin

It seems that this country’s national airline does not operate this way. On our way home this summer, we were told in a very rude manner at check-in we had no tickets, except for the older Dwarf. I have to say I understand why the person we were talking to was totally unhelpful, not even mentioning polite: checking your Facebook app during work hours IS time consuming and requires some concentration.

You should not be bothered by customers.

As Mrs. Youarenotmyproblem could not care less, we managed to check in the Dwarf’s bag, which bought us some time to go to ticketing and get the problem sorted out.

On the way back to Toronto, I had to travel alone with the Dwarves and my nervousness.

When checking in in Geneva, I was told I had a seat, but the kids did not and they were on standby. I could not help asking how this was possible as, if on good days they are probably able to start a nuclear war or to finish exterminating many endangered species, they are definitely not ready to fly alone. I was told I had booked the tickets separately and therefore we were not linked in the system. Yes, of course. They are 3 and 5, so I decided it’s time for them to become more independent, and we would start with this nice 10-hour trip. We made it (again), but in Montreal I had to go to ticketing, again (remind me to buy a “Air Canada ticketing fan” t-shirt) in order to get the Dwarves’s boarding passes to Toronto.

While in the security line, Dwarf 1 decided he needed to use the restroom. Right then. As we were really short for our Toronto flight (ticketing excursions do take time), I asked him if he could wait a bit. He explained very clearly, and in an extremely strident manner, what would happen to his underwear and pants if he had to wait. Thank God most people around spoke French and could enjoy all the graphic details he was spelling out loud, just to make sure his dumb mother would get it.

We made it –again.

Next December we are all flying home- again, and I am already worried about the potential ticketing issues.

At this stage I have to point out The Man had to fly back earlier, on his own, and managed to get upgraded to business class at no cost.

I am seriously considering filing for divorce.

.

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