Kentucky? Or, not Kentucky? That is the Question

Thanks to Ryan's dad, Scott for purchasing my ticket so I could make it to Kentucky today. Needless to say, Yesterday was a relentlessly tiresome roller coaster. After being turned away from the Sonoma County Airport with the response of "there is nothing we can do," I continued my crying spree for hours. My eyes were swollen, my head hurt, and my stomach continued to twist in knots.

Ryan eventually got me connected with an Alaskan Air

Representative (by this point I had already sent my letter to KTVU). Not surprisingly, I was told, "mam, this isn't our fault."

My response to her was less than kind, "So, you are telling me, that it's my fault that someone isn't behind the counter to help?" I paused fighting tears. She was telling me that I wouldn't get compensated.

I then asked, "so, why is it that your machines can take money from me but not give me the plane ticket I just checked in for?" She had no response.

After being places on hold, the representative returned to tell me that I was being put on request for compensation (I'll have to check my confirmation soon to see where I'm at).

 

At 3:30am the next morning, I set out for San Francisco to, hopefully, get onto a 6:00am departure for Chicago. I arrived—wow—only 35minutes before my departure.  Not only could I check in on time, I was able to buy a coffee and a more-than-delicious croissant. Riddle me that one…

When I landed in Chicago I spent hours wandering around, looking at  people and finding food. Eventually, I found my gate—it was shoved into the recesses of terminal G. I even had time to watch Justin Bieber's "Never Say Never" (I know what you're thinking, and—yes—I am a total nerd).

But, even between those moments of knowing I had my destination in reach (and flying through the city of Oprah), I was still traumatized by my poor experience the day before.

It was like clockwork: ten minutes before we were scheduled to board the plane a flight attendant interrupts the passengers over her tiny and powerful speaking device to say, "I need 3 volunteers to give up their seats. If I don’t get 3 volunteers, I will start calling people."

Breath discontinued to enter my body...

I had an awful feeling my name was going to be called—so instead of panicking, I got in front of the line and rushed onto that mini plane.

The Airport security didn’t hunt me down and the plane didn’t crash, so I'm back in Kentucky! It will be a wonderful week; thank you everyone for all of your kind and supportive words. I'm extremely grateful for everything. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

I just hope my trip back to Santa Rosa goes smoothly next Monday…

Today, I sent a letter to KTVU--the local news station

Dear KTVU,

Nearly a month ago, I purchased a plane ticket to visit my family and friends in Kentucky. Because I am a recent college graduate from SSU, it was difficult for me to even consider purchasing a ticket—especially with the cost of $823.00.  I even had to split the cost between two credit cards—bringing both of them to their limit.

In the 6 years that I’ve lived in California, I have only been able to return once to see my family. So, understandably, I would be excited to visit my mother (who has only become recently sober in the last 2 years), my grandparents, and my brothers who are now beginning to plan what colleges they wish to attend. To top it off, I was planning to attend the wedding of a good friend—the kind of friend that you would never intentionally miss the most important day of her life.  Needless to say, I was looking forward to my trip home. 

I booked the airline ticket to leave from STS (Sonoma County Airport) at 12:30pm on Friday the 22^nd.  Because I only live 10 minutes away, I thought it would be a no-brainer. I arrived to the airport at 1205pm with my flight delayed to 12:40pm. The ticket counter displayed a small sign saying that the desk attendants leave the desk 30minutes before the flights departure. By my calculations, that would mean that an attendant should remain at the desk until 1210pm. Am I right? So, like any logical person, I kept my cool and went over to one of 10 Alaskan Air computers to check in.  I paid 20$ to check my bag in with Alaskan Air flight 2473 and I received my receipt with my baggage information as well as what connections I would be making.

So, I went to the small airport security checkpoint (which is only 2 doors away from my destination) and the gentleman told me that I needed to return to the Kiosk to retrieve my boarding pass—BUT I DIDN’T GET ONE. So, I then asked if he could locate someone to meet me at the counter.  He told me No.  NO? Really? I was the only customer in line. There were 6-7 security Employees there (TO ONE PERSON….MAN, I MUST BE A THREAT). He told me I should go outside to the arrival gate and flag someone down.  So, I turned around and walked through the arrival gate.  It was now 12:15 and I could see the bags being wheeled out to the plane.  I tried yelling…no one heard me. I tried yelling again. No one heard me.

So I turned around and went inside to the counter. Still, no one was there. I had checked my bags and I had checked myself in. But there was NO ONE that could give me the $823.00 ticket. I even started to wander around—by this point I had begun to cry.  I asked a gentleman with an airport tag around his neck if he could contact someone to help me at the desk. His response was “I’m sorry, I can’t leave this door open.” What? You can’t close your door to help me?  What?

I then went back through the small door into the security check-point to ask if one of the 7 employees can help me by contacting someone to go to the desk.  Again, I was turned away—I needed to go outside.

The plane still sat right outside the gate. People were just now filing out of the waiting room to enter the flight.  I yelled. I yelled again. Finally! Someone in a blue shirt came up to me—but he didn’t work with the airline company.  He went and got a guy in an Alaskan airlines shirt. He then said, “I can see what I can do.”

With that hopeful answer, I travelled inside to wait, again, by an empty counter.  At this point, there was another gentleman waiting to get on the same flight with Alaskan Air.

Then, it seemed like—all at once—there were people behind the counter.    Wow.

I was hopeful though. I could see the plane from where I was standing. I had already paid for my bags. The plane hadn’t started yet.  I could make my flight. I could make it.

With out even an effort, the Alaskan employees began the process of trying to find me another flight. They didn't even consider putting me on the flight I was assigned. Why couldn’t I get on the flight I paid for? It was sitting right there.  By that point, it was 12:40pm and the plane still sat in its original spot. By that time, my boyfriend had returned from out apartment in Santa Rosa and stood with me for 9 minutes (plane still intact) while the people in front of me continued to say, on the phone, she missed her flight. But, how can I miss my flight, when it’s sitting right there?

Finally, the Alaskan crew got off the little black reservations phone to inform me that I would have to pay the difference of $1,100.00 to make it to Kentucky. WHAT? $1,100.00? You think I can pay that? And, so much for the convenience too. They then told me I would have to drive to SFO. WOW. 

So, the ticket I purchased was placed on my shoulders because the employees of Alaskan Air couldn’t get me on the plane that sat there for 40minutes (20 minutes past original departure). Congratulations Alaskan AIR—you have earned $843.00 (this includes the baggage fees) from a college graduate that can’t afford to pay her own bills. Thanks.

To top it off—I didn’t get the money back for my luggage…

STS should consider reworking their system--especially, if the computers won’t give me the ticket I purchased.

So, please, KTVU, if you can share my story of frustration I would be grateful. I believe many people could benefit from it.  Flying to and from the Sonoma County Airport should be considered an enjoyable experience (It’s not everyday that you can fly out of wine country). My hope is that one day, STS will be able to cover their bases and make their company known for customer service.  Unfortunately, today wasn’t that day.

Sincerely,

Karlee Tucker

tuckekar@gmail.com

530-414-1941

PS. I want to apologize to all of those flyers that saw me crying. I hope that my poor experience didn’t distress their travels. 

The River's Simplicity

I went to the river yesterday with some friends and half of Santa Rosa. Walls of trees, cars and fences greeted us along a small, beaten roadway. The frustration of tiny parking spaces and distance prompted both Ryan (my boyfriend) and AJ to return to the river’s entry point. Carrying all the river toys and a dog was at the bottom of our list, so Amanda, Sarah, Joel, Toby and I were thrown out of the cars as AJ and Ryan went to hunt for open parking spaces.

My right hand gripped a small red cooler and my left hand held the leash of an overly excited dog.  The deflated, yellow rafts that were once comfortable on my shoulder slid down into the crease of my arm as I braced for the ride down the narrow, dirt-covered path.  As the leash tightened, my brown flip flops cut into the tops of my feet, and I began my slow fight with Toby down the hill. Toby’s green and brown polka dotted collar pressed against his throat prompting a symphony of chocking and wheezing; his brown, fluffy muscular body stretched 4 feet in front of me and my feet—incapable of staying still—beat the ground, quickly and inconsistently. It wasn’t until I was halfway down the hill that Amanda grabbed the tight, black leash to help lessen the intensity of what could have been my death (or at least an uncomfortable afternoon).

After locating ourselves at semi-open beach spot, I went and stood in the river with Toby. Toby, never having been to the river, took the opportunity to utilize the space to the best of his ability. He peed; he swam; he greeted people; he swam some more; he got out of the water; he got back into the water; he ultimately attempted to poo in the water—that I wouldn’t let happen. So, instead of pooing in the water, Toby ran up the small, gravelly embankment to park his fluffy butt next to a group of people (that was a fun apology).  When his business was complete, Toby went to tackle the same few activities in a repeated cycle.

The river flowed smoothly splashing against my waist; people floated by on their boats. Small fish snuck past my toes and children made it their business to cover the passerby with water. Turns were taken drifting down the river; Amanda and Sarah disappeared floating aimlessly with the current.  It wasn’t long before the guys followed suite. I stood my ground and watched my friends disappear around the river’s bend, while Toby spent all of his energy swimming upstream.

My friends returned walking against the current with the boats dragging behind them. Warm rays prompted me to join the masses, so I grabbed my yellow boat, passed the dog to Ryan and set down the river with Sarah, Amanda and Joel. Impatience landed me in the water quickly. I anchored my torso on the boat’s side: my legs dragged inconsistently on the river’s bottom as water snuck past my waist filling the space where I sat moments before. To save my boat from a quick death, I jumped in the water and used the access to cover my friends.

All in all, my day was memorable.  I had been invited to revisit summers of my past.  Several remarkable vacations were spent travelling down the Truckee River with my sister and father. Fighting rapids, playing on embankments and watching hoards of people were an immediate must of our yearly adventures. Those moments leading up to sunburns and tired evenings were consistent and unbiased. Even as I grew older, I searched for the simplicity of those days. I searched for the uncomplicated mess and understanding (the type of understanding foreign to many); I searched to share those memories with friends that I care about (of course, Toby counts).

The Russian River has now carved its way into my existence (and, hopefully, my friends will agree).  Before this summer has ended, I’m sure you will find me floating aimlessly—with beer and friends—along the river’s current making new memories to hold closely with the old.