We made it from our hotel to the gate at O'Hare's American Airlines terminal in what must be record time: 38 minutes. That's good news, even though we wound up having to sit around for a lot longer than expected. Everything had been going smoothly. Flights were on time, trains were right on schedule and the (seemingly dozens of) taxi drivers we hired along the way seemed to be taking efficient routes between our destinations. Then, we got on the plane in Chicago. We had been sitting there for about 25 minutes when the pilot announced that the mechanics had given the ol' girl a once-over and she was unfit to fly. So, we got off the plane.
Now this was frustrating, to be sure. The Captain seemed grateful for my response when he spoke to me, seemingly in a random fashion, saying "Sorry for the delay, but it's better to be safe." I said, "Sir, I couldn't agree with you more."
Happily, we were in a major airport and there happened to be a spare MD-80 sitting in a hangar. We were delayed about two hours, but it's not the end of the world.
Here's the thing: the American Airlines personnel at O'Hare said they could not check us through on our new connections, that we had to wait until we got to Dallas. We did not believe them, so we called American Airlines on the telephone. Guess what? The guy on the phone checked us through! We are convinced the people on the ground in Chicago were straight-up lying because they just didn't want to fool with it. What other explanation could there be?
When it was all finished, we got home slightly more than an hour later than we had planned, so it wasn't a big deal, at all.
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The good people of Chicagoland were nice enough, I suppose. I can't say they were unfriendly. I can say they were for the most part non-friendly. It's like eye contact is some kind of social transgression. It was the biggest collection of isolationist introverts I could possibly imagine. When we, as southerners, tried to engage them in witty folksy banter, they would get kind of wide-eyed. I swear, if small children had been around, those people might have huddled protectively around them. Mostly, they seemed to walk around like robots, staring straight ahead surrounded by some kind of no-speak zone with a mantra something like "don't look at me, don't speak to me, I am safe here on my own little emotional island." When I broke away from my traveling party, I very much felt alone in a crowd.
And, oh by the way...there seems to be some kind of constitutional prohibition on Coca-Cola products there. I've never seen so much Pepsi. Maybe that's what wrong with those people.
It was a great trip, but I'm glad to be home where people engage in conversations and the Diet Coke flows freely.
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Mostly Uneventul Travels
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
The Investigation Continues
Tomekia Scott and Frank Taylor, whoever they are, had better lay low. They flew to Charlotte from Chicago last Wednesday on tickets bought with our debit card. Kareen and Kamara Couch flew from Chicago to Atlanta on the same day under similar circumstances.
Now, the Chicago PD is on their trails and hopefully their tails.
Using an empty checking account and a depleted overdraft protection line of credit as motivation, I have been bulldogging federal and local law enforcement. Everyone has been nice. I've heard more than once, "after all, you're a victim." No one wanted to claim jurisdiction for chasing this down, though, until somehow I got routed to the Superintendent's office at Chicago PD.
A detective named Dave has become fascinated with this, and that pleases me. He liked the idea that I have the names of the "perps." I was even able, thanks to the determined amateur detective work of my friend Dave in Nashville, to track down the place where one of the phantom fliers works and goes to school...in Chicago.
A cage will soon be rattled, thanks to the united efforts of the two Daves.
Our account is still empty. The bank people assure us we will be "made whole," but it might take up to ten days. That process is ongoing. I've spoken with several people in the bank's bureaucracy who offered challengingly inconsistent advice. Ultimately, I said to someone on the phone, "May I please talk with someone in the organization who can speak about this with confidence and authority?" For the record, that hasn't actually happened yet.
Acting on the tenuous advice of one of the bank people, we filed a local police report. I got a prompt call from the White Collar Crimes Task Force, but was told this doesn't fall into local jurisdiction. They directed me to Chicago PD, where I captured Detective Dave's imagination, so SPD and the CPSO did some good. The FBI wasn't the slighest bit interested.
I would think the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) would like to hear about this. If Tomekia Scott, Frank Taylor, Kareen and Kamala Couch are not the thieves' actual names, then fake ID"s were used to board domestic airliners. If that happened, we have real issues. If those are real names, then Detective Dave of the Chicago PD will find them. He has already called me once today and said, "You will hear from me again."
I hope it's some time after Frank Taylor, Tomekia Scott, Kareen Couch and Kamala Couch hear from him. I also hope their little plane trips to Charlotte and Atlanta were worth it. See you in prison, you criminal pieces of crap.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Ripped Off, Big-Time
Our checking account has been emptied thanks to the purchase of four airline tickets on Wednesday in Chicago. We haven't been there and we haven't bought any tickets. Tomekia Scott and Frank Taylor, whoever they are, flew to Charlotte on same-day tickets bought with our debit card. Kareen and Kamara Couch flew from Chicago to Atlanta courtesy my checking account balance. We also don't know them. Even if we did, we certainly would not buy plane tickets for them.
I feel like we're in that identity theft comerical for MasterCard. The good news, if there is any, is that some criminal piece of crap got a debit card number and not a credit card number. That means the amount of money that can be stolen is finite.
The bad news is: all of our debit cards are cancelled. It doesn't matter, because there's no money in the account, anyway. The worse news is that our overdraft protection kicked in, meaning Tomekia Scott, Frank Taylor, Kareen Couch and Kamala Couch caused us to go into debt to support their travels, not to mention their thievery.
We called the bank, but there's no customer service person available on a Sunday, so we wait. We called the FBI, who told us to let the bank handle the initiation of an investigation and prosecution. We called the airlines, one of which was terrific, the other of which sadly employs the Society of Cluelessness on Sundays.
For the record, United Airlines handled my call and my questions with great efficiency. The man who answered the phone obviously understood the seriousness of what was happening and offered solid information along with valuable advice. U.S. Air hung up on me three times as I was transferred around to Who Knows Where before I finally, on my fourth phone call and all the commensurate "telephone menu hell" spoke to someone who has English as his primary language and seemed to grasp my plight.
Here's a lesson: check your account activity often. My wife went on-line and discovered the posts to our account from the airlines, as well as the overdraft protection deposits. She understandably went into a little freakout. I spent most of the morning and part of the afternoon chasing down information. If it had involved United exclusively, I might have spent significantly less time fretting about all this. Maddeningly, the call center for U.S. Air found itself enshrouded in a cloud of Idiot Gas and I was forced to choke on it.
So we sit in suspense until we can track down someone from the bank on Monday morning. In the meantime, if you know Kareen Couch, Kamala Couch, Tomekia Scott or Frank Taylor who flew out of Chicago on Wednesday, let them know the Feds are coming after them.
