A Note to Self: Airlines Suck
So as I wrote in my last post, my university sucks. The only entity I current associate with, besides the U.S. Government, that now sucks more is Continental Airlines.
Although, I’m not quite sure that’s entirely fair. I presume that all airlines are just as money-grubbing and price-gouging as Continental.
So here for posterity: Airlines Suck!
Also: if you have any doubt, even a small paranoid one, that you might not make your flight, book it right before you leave at the higher price.
Yes, I know this is entirely contrary to everything that travel agents and people with shiny degrees and fat wallets will tell you. However, I’m college educated as well, and not in cahoots with any corporation or scheme to pad my pockets.
I’m just a fellow working-class citizen who got royally fucked.
I booked my flight from Phoenix to Quebec City back in May. With all the fees, my final total was just shy of $900. I felt triumphant, confident that I got the best price.
What I should have done is book a flight with Air Canada, who would have charged me upwards of $2400 for the same flight.
Well, because Air Canada is refundable. Those low, low prices fares you see advertised on the boob tube and shiny websites are low because if you cancel, they slap a huge fee on top of it and then apply a credit towards any flight taken in the next year with that airline, and only if you cancel at least three weeks before your flight. Otherwise, fuck you.
So if you canceled the flight because of financial difficulties, those difficulties aren’t going to see an end any time soon. If you don’t have any plans to take a trip to the tune of $900 in the next year, say bye-bye to your money.
Note to self: when booking flights, book it right before I leave. Not months in advance. A week before I leave. Paying an extra $100 or so is worth it for the security of knowing that if the unthinkable happens, if my university decides to be an ass and not offer my poor ass the means to educate myself or the person I’m going to see dies or I just simply can’t make it, I’m going to be okay.
Besides, a week before I leave somewhere is generally not enough time for life to intervene and cock things up. As I learned today, three months is certainly enough time for the shit to hit the fan, especially if I dare to assume that my pubic university holds itself to the promises it made to me.
In conclusion, I’m having a very bad day.