Letter from Cathay Pacific re: Canceled Flight 888

Response to my letter regarding Flight 888:

Dear Ms. Robbins:

Greetings from Cathay Pacific Airways. Thank you for contacting us with regards to your recent travel experience with aboard CX888 on October 02, 2008. Although we regret the circumstances that prompted you to write, we do appreciate hearing from you.

On behalf of our airline, I would like to apologize for the delay and inconvenience you experienced during your flight aboard CX888 on October 2nd.

As an international airline dedicated to catering to the needs of travelers worldwide, we pride ourselves on our ability to deliver service excellence to our passengers. Accordingly, we strive to ensure seamless service delivery to all aspects of our passengers' travel not only during regular operations but also on those occasions - such as this one - where operation irregularities occur.

That we fell short on this occasion is of a serious concern to us. We are focused on continuous improvements and we thank you for your feedback. On behalf of Cathay Pacific Airways we apologize again for the inconvenience.

Please be advised that your comments are valued and that they have been registered and forwarded to appropriate departments for review internally so that we may work on improving our future services.

As a gesture of goodwill, we would be pleased to review your expenses with regards to this delay for any possible reimbursement. I would be most grateful if you could forward those receipts to me for consideration. You can forward your receipts by mail, fax or scan them and email to us.

Our address: Cathay Pacific Airways
Customer Relation Department
360 Post Street, #300
San Francisco, CA 94108

Fax number: 1-415-397-8731

On behalf of Cathay Pacific Airways, we thank you again for traveling on Cathay Pacific Airways and look forward to welcoming you on your next flight with us.

Yours sincerely,
Andrew To

Customer Relations Coordinator, North America
Cathay Pacific Airways
360 Post Street, Suite 300
San Francisco, CA 94108
___________

I'm very pleased with their response, but no free miles for my time and trouble? Doesn't hurt them to give me them, and it would have made the sting that much less painful.

Letter to Cathay Pacific re: Canceled Flight 888

To Whom It May Concern:

I was recently on Cathay Pacific flight 888 from Vancouver to JFK, which was delayed 14 hours on October 2. I was told by a flight attendant that I should write to you regarding getting reimbursed for the extra day of parking at JFK airport for which I was charged. How do I go about receiving this reimbursement? The amount was $30 (roughly half of the $66 for the two days I was gone).

My flight to Vancouver was one of the best I'd ever had, especially in light of all that is happening with the airline industry, and I raved to several of my friends (also travel writers) about Cathay Pacific. However, when the flight was canceled Thursday night, I was surprised by how disorganized and unprepared the staff was. In fact, after the fastidious service I'd receive on the outbound trip, I was shocked by the lack of preparedness. Several passengers actually had to take charge and begin instructing the attendants, who were answering questions one-on-one rather than informing the flight as a whole. One attendant kept promising to fill out our hotel vouchers, but kept stopping to answer questions that had already been addressed several times over, further delaying the process; in fact, she had my boarding pass and voucher in her hand for a full 20 minutes before she did anything with it. In total, it took more than an hour and a half from the time the flight was finally officially canceled to when we were able to get to the hotel -- and we'd already been waiting several hours.

Some other issues that I observed:

• Buses were not waiting -- as we were told they would be -- to take us to our hotel. We had to wait nearly 20 minutes longer, after already waiting at the gate more than two hours.
  
• When I finally received my hotel voucher, the attendant directed me to the incorrect portion of the terminal for the bus, and I had to wander around before I found where I was actually supposed to be.
  
• We were not provided with meals the night our flight was canceled, and many of us had not eaten for hours, since most airport restaurants had been closed and we'd been expecting to be fed on the flight. The hotel's restaurant had been closed for hours by the time we arrived, and I know that I myself -- since I'd planned to be in Vancouver less than a day -- had only $5 Canadian on me, so I couldn't even order delivery. Some snacks or at least bottled water would have been much appreciated.
  
• We were told that the airline would call us by 9AM the next morning. No such call came. Instead, I had to call the front desk to find out the status. Had I waited for Cathay Pacific's call, I might still be in that Best Western hotel room.
  

I felt bad for the Cathay Pacific staff, as it seems that there were few procedures in place for something as routine as a canceled flight, and they were left to scramble to pick up the pieces at the last minute. I'm used to canceled flights -- I'm a travel writer -- and I'd much rather a flight be canceled than fly on an uncertain craft. However, I would have expected that an airline of Cathay Pacific's reputation would have been better prepared for such a pedestrian mishap, and I hope the company does better by its employees the next time such an event occurs.

Sincerely,
Jenna Rose Robbins
___________________
Read Cathay Pacific's response.

I Heart YVR

There's a reason I prefer trains to airplanes: no airports.

But if more airports were like Vancouver's, air travel would be so much more pleasant. From the moment you arrive at the international terminal in YVR (fun fact: all Canadian airport codes start with Y), you feel more serene than harried, what with the Zen-like waterfall escorting you down the escalator, then down the corridor as it turns into a pebbly brook. Around every corner is another piece of native artwork, from the Haida piece at the top of the cascade to totem poles and other aboriginal designs.

But what I loved most was the convenience. Unlike at JFK, which wanted to charge me
$4.95 per hour for Internet use, YVR's Internet connection was free. FREE! Total time in line through security: three minutes. And the security officials? I saw nary a smile at JFK, but YVR was all grins. Top it all off with a killer logo and you've got my favoritest airport on the globe (thus far).

JFK, take heed: Be more like YVR and maybe less people (myself included) will bitch about you.

"Desert Romance" Article Published in Exquisite Weddings

It's live! My travel piece on Southwest wedding destinations in Exquisite Weddings has hit the stands. This was my first piece for the publication, and it's quite an impressive glossy.

Redeem This: Why United's Voucher-Redemption System Sucks

Even when I’m not traveling, I am. Let me explain.

In addition to visiting NYC for the summer – which I don’t really consider traveling because it’s where I grew up – I’ve been taking lots of weekend road trips, so many in fact, that I’ve spent but one weekend in the city proper since I arrived back in May.

In the last two days, I’ve made two trips to JFK, neither of which culminated in a flight anywhere. Instead, I was there to cash in one of the vouchers I’d received after being bumped last summer. I’ve never before had a problem redeeming a voucher -- from any airline -- even though United makes the ridiculous requirement that you visit an airport in order to do so. The much more efficient Alaska Airlines allows redemption via phone, but not via Internet. Hello? Airlines? This is the 21st century. What gives? (Also see my previous post on Alaska vs. United.)

My theory is that the ever-ailing airlines want to save a few more bucks and are hoping you don’t redeem the voucher before its expiration date. By making the process as Byzantine and inefficient as possible, they're hoping you might not even bother. Who can be bothered? My theory was further reinforced by my experience of trying to redeem this latest voucher.

When I called to redeem the voucher, as I had with my Alaska voucher back in April, I was informed that I had to make the transaction at the nearest airport with a United counter. Thankfully, since I’m currently in NYC, I had three relatively convenient options nearby. Now, what would someone in, say, Chinle, Ariz. (where two friends of mine used to live) do? Drive three hours each way to redeem their voucher? It would hardly be worth it, especially with gas prices as high as they are. That was my first indication of the veracity of my theory.

So, on Monday evening, I hopped on the LIRR at Penn Station (a few extra bucks would save me roughly half an hour each way, as opposed to taking the subway), transferred to the AirTrain at Jamaica, then walked into the United terminal only to discover that all the counters were unoccupied. A quick visit to the sole United employee on duty, in baggage services, confirmed that the ticket counters had closed nearly two hours earlier, at 8:45. I had arrive that late only because the telephone agent had assured me that I could redeem my voucher until midnight. Turns out that what the agent meant -- but didn't delineate, perhaps in the hopes I wouldn't actually use my voucher -- is that, although my reservation would be redeemable until midnight, that didn’t mean there would be anyone at the airport to assist in the redemption.

I called United and immediately asked to speak to a supervisor. (His estimated counter-closure time: 7:30, a full hour and 15 minutes earlier than what the baggage clerk had told me.) After explaining my situation multiple times and saying I didn’t wish to spend another three hours returning to JFK the next day, I finally got the phone supervisor to tell me I could mail in the voucher. Why was I not told this sooner? I guess that mail-in is the method a Chinle resident might opt for, even though the process offers no guarantee that you’ll actually get the flights you booked, as it takes ten days to process and confirm. Although I told the agent this was what I would do, the uncertainty of the situation changed my mind while I was riding home.

Three hours and $17.75 later, and I had nothing to show for my efforts but a lack of sleep.

After calling United the next day and being told a different closing time for the ticket counter (7:45), I returned to JFK, shelling out even more money this time for the privilege of riding during peak hours. Once I got there, the agent assured me this was a “1-2-3 ticket,” meaning it usually takes her seconds to process. Fifteen minutes later, she and her co-worker were still tag-teaming with their in-house help department to see why the final step in the redemption process couldn’t be completed. “It’s usually 1-2-3,” Agent 1 assured me. Suuuure, it is. I could practically smell the mechanics of my theory whirring away behind the luggage conveyor belt.

The supervisor happened by. The other agent explained the situation while her co-worker continued to wait on hold for her own company to help her. The supervisor apologized to me for the wait, and I decided this was an opportune time to tell her the full story. Only supervisors, I knew, wield the almighty power of awarding further compensation. Perhaps I could get her to see the illogic and inefficiency on which this voucher-redemption system was based, and how it had so inconvenienced me.

Moments after I received the receipt for my flight, I was also leaving with 500 bonus miles in my account. Considering how that minimum limit has been wiped away for customers who’ve actually flown, I thought myself quite lucky.

Happy ending? Yes, but I’m still irritated that, with all of today's technological advancements, United is unable to redeem vouchers via telephone, let alone the Internet. No wonder airlines are bleeding money. If such a simple transaction eats up two hours of employee time (my estimate, based on all the agents I both called and saw in person), of course they’re going to be in the red. And, if the next time a “free voucher” ends up costing me nearly $50 and six hours of my time, this redhead will be seeing red.

How Green Is Your Destination?

I'm a sucker for quizzes, even though I know from the moment I click the very first improbable multiple-choice answer that I'm going to be disappointed. I'm going to rail against whatever idiot wrote the answer key that declares me so un-green I'm brown or so uneducated about the planet that I might have grown up on Mars.

So I was only slightly perturbed by the 75 I scored on the Sierra Club's recent "How Green Is My Destination?" quiz. How serious can you take a quiz when question 4 suggests that once you get to your destination you should "Go somewhere and stay put"? It's a travel quiz, people, not a stationary quiz. Not only were some of the provided answers questionable, some of the more pertinent answers weren't even on there.

How do you get to your destination? for example. In some parts of the world, it's much more eco-friendly to travel via train -- despite the distance -- than by boat, car, or plane. What about the country or city's penchant for doing green? Supporting sustainable destinations -- not just the hotel or lodging -- is just as important as how far they are, or whether or not you use mass transit once you get there. Conversely, if your transportation methods are questionable but your reason for visiting -- especially with voluntourism on the rise -- is entirely green, that too should be taken into account. But it isn't.

Ten half-assed questions ain't gonna cut it, Sierra Club. But read the quiz anyway, if you're so inclined.


http://www.sierraclub.org/howgreen/destination/

Fly to Tokyo, Get Free Weed

Now that's what I call a frequent-flier perk. In a failed airport security test, an unsuspecting passenger at Narita International Airport, outside Tokyo, was gifted with 142 grams (about 5 ounces) of cannabis after a customs officer hid the package in his luggage. When drug-sniffing canines failed to find the unintentional contraband, the passenger slipped away with the package.

In an equally bizarre twist to the story, officials put out a request that the stash be returned -- and it was. After the passenger found the illegal stash -- worth about ¥1 million, or just over $10,000 -- he played his role of honorable citizen by reporting it to police.

Before you start planning your next trip to Japan, unpack the munchies and keep in mind that this "test" was not standard procedure. Customs officers are required to use a training suitcase -- not just some random Joe's.

Full story:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7419969.stm

And for those who speak Japanese, enjoy this video:
http://www.japanprobe.com/?p=4693

Frequent Flying: Alaska vs. United

I'm a devoted frequent flier, which means I generally fly one airline in particular, in order to gain the highest frequent flier status possible, not to mention to accumulate miles and, thus, free transport. But the recent upheavals in airlines -- including the Delta/Northwest merger -- mean less perks for us devoted travelers of the air.

I've been a faithful United Airlines customer for nearly a decade, often choosing United over cheaper flights just so I can earn the extra miles. Last summer, I had the good fortune of being bumped on both United and Alaska within a few weeks of each other, and earning a round-trip ticket for each airline.

Two weeks ago, I needed to get to the East Coast -- and fast. Round-trip tickets skyrocketed from $250 to more than $400 in the course of less than 24 hours, right after the grounding of American Airlines and the announcement of the aforementioned mega-merger. I was at a loss. Without a full-time job, I couldn't afford to pay such an exorbitant fee. Then I remembered my two free tickets.

I'd previously booked a trip with Alaska to Portland back in December, but had to cancel my trip when my Portland pal unexpectedly moved back to LA. The experience was painless: Alaska Air canceled my flight without a penalty, leaving me with my free ticket intact. I remembered the positive experience and so called Alaska first when I realized I couldn't afford the last-minute cross-country fees.

Because Alaska's hub is in Seattle, and it doesn't offer direct flights to any of NYC's three airports, my only option was a 12-hour excursion from LAX to Newark via Seattle -- hardly what one would consider optimum.

Then I called United, the airline to which I'd been so faithful for what seemed like millennia. After dealing with an agent who was obviously not U.S. based and who could hardly understand me ("Ms. Robinson [sic], you speak so fast!") and waiting for nearly 20 minutes to find a seat, I was finally told that to use my free ticket required 14 days' notice. I had told the agent at the start of our conversation that I would be using a voucher, so I found it highly inconvenient to be told this after the fact. I then asked how many of my frequent flier miles would be needed for the same trip. Seems that 25,000 would do the trick -- in addition to $75 for booking my ticket less than two weeks in advance. Screw that.

So, it was Alaska's ticket I used. I dreaded the long flight in each direction, but I had little choice financially. What angered me most was that my experience with United, the airline to which I'd been so faithful, was so far below that which I had with Alaska, with which I'd flown only three times in the last five years or so. There were far fewer restrictions on my "free" ticket and, when I was finally on board, I found Alaska's seats roomier and much more comfy. About the only negative with Alaska was that in order to view the in-flight movie, I would have to pay $10 for a portable DVD player, rather than watch the free flick on United. I passed.

I still have my free United ticket, which I have to use by August. I have no clue where I'll fly with it, now that I'll be on the East Coast for the next few months. But I have to say, after I cash in my United miles, I'm going to reconsider my airline allegiance.

To Fly or Not to Fly (Hawaii, Day 7)

I'm not a morning person. Anyone who even slightly knows me that I just don't function in the a.m. hours, no matter what the time zone. So for me to wake at 5:30 a.m. -- during my vacation, no less -- you know I meant business. And business on this, my last full day on the island, was to get on an aircraft and see some friggin' lava.

I drove the two-plus hours back to Hilo, through rain, wind, fog, and multiple inefficient traffic stops, to be at the airstrip by 9 a.m. After getting somewhat lost and being assured by the airline operator that the pilot would be waiting for me, I arrived 10 minutes early to find an empty airstrip. No one. Nada. Pas d'avion. After staying on the line with the operator a while longer, I was assured that my flight would not take off without me. A member of the grounds maintenance staff confirmed that my ride would be back shortly, from what I understood through the thick Hawaiian accent and noise of the airport. Shortly after the plane emerged in the low-ceilinged sky 15 minutes later, I learned that my flight was, again, canceled due to inclement weather. Dammit.

To kill the few hours before my horseback ride in the Waipi'o Valley shortly after noon, I stopped in at Ken's House of Pancakes in Hilo, a local joint with an enormous menu to rival even that of a New York diner. From there I headed straight to the Valley, driving through a town that looked like the Old West relocated to a tropical isle. Our main guide, Keone (who told us his name was Hawaiian for "John") liked to crack jokes and make us smell rancid fruit (in this case, the noni, which has a scent reminiscent of a monkey's butt crack and resembles a bloated wart), took us down the steep incline into the valley, picking up a wayward bodyboarder along the way. (How he hung onto the back of the bucking van I'll never know.) Less than an hour later, we were saddled up and cantering into a valley of waterfalls, hippies, and mist-covered taro fields.

My riding companions -- most much more skilled at horseback than I -- were a motley crew of tourists from throughout the continental U.S., the loudest of who insisted on leading the pack and hootin' and hollerin' about every aspect of her life so that she almost scared off one of the wild horses who roamed Waipi'o. The haze lifted so that we didn't need the rain gear we'd brought, and our band made its merry way past the leased homes and squatters (an "inordinate amount" of which are named Dave, per The Book and seconded by Keone). I snapped almost as many shots as I had at Pololu, but few were as spectacular, given the fickle lighting and constant movement of my ride. Although I didn't get to ride over a volcano, this excursion made up for the flight in terms of shear spectacle. The perfectly ripe avocados, hand picked as we trotted along, made for a delightfully delicious end of the day, for both me and my trusty steed.

Day 1: Escape From Cube Life
Day 2: Manta Heaven
Day 3: Paddling to My Death
Day 4: The Southernmost Gaffe in the United States
Day 5: Somewhere Over Polulu
Day 6: Grounded in Hilo
Day 7: To Fly or Not to Fly
Day 8: Don't Make Me Go!

Ode to the Channel Islands

(With apologies to anyone with any literary sensibility.)

They were well underway
On a bright August day
With a bearing set for Santa Cruz.
Their craft was nigh full
From the mast to the hull
With provisions for two or three crews.

At the Sun Soleil's wheel,
On an uneven keel,
Stood their captain, of skill set unknown.
Quick to temper was he,
As they sailed the calm sea,
If they so much as cut off his drone.

But the insouciant crew --
Of each sex, there were two --
Would not let him rankle their mood.
After all, it was true:
What else could they do?
Piss him off and they'd surely be screwed.

So they hoisted the main
And cleared the head's drain
And prepped for the weekend ahead.
On their first trip ashore
"Holy shit!" they all swore
When they found a huge carcass quite dead.

After snaring a tooth
And playing the sleuth
They returned to the boat Sun Soleil.
What a tirade they got
From the doddy old sot:
"You left me alone here all day!"

"Grab the halyard, yank the sheet!
Tie the line to that cleat!"
Came the orders from morning to night.
Had they known had to sail
They'd all now be in jail
For lobbing the perv in the bight.

But their sails did not luff
For their nerves remained tough
When misfortune hit them full speed.
They bore flies by the reams,
An old skipper sans jeans,
And survived a sea lion stampede.

They had chocolate a plenty,
And bananas ten or twenty,
And they came to malign the poor fruit
For the hardships endured
Once they'd set foot aboard
The boat with a nasty old coot.

On the bow late at night
They observed quite a sight,
A gift from the heavens on high --
Quick flashes of light
Quite brilliant and bright
Like a vestige of Fourth of July.

"Anacapa, ahoy!"
Cried the four crew with joy,
As the lighthouse soon came into view.
They hopped into their dinghy --
A flimsy old thingy --
And skedaddled from old you-know-who.

But no shore trip for they,
Only "anchors aweigh!"
Due to Cap'n's pleas for more help.
For their trip was cut short --
They but made it to port --
By a harmless ol' bed of sea kelp.

Soon stolid park rangers
Became more than strangers
As they rolled back to the Sun Soleil.
Then for shore they set sail
With the wind at their tail
For the cap'n'd again had his say.

No more spinnakers for they,
As they cruised through the spray,
For a self-furling sail they had naught.
Wing and wing brought them forth
Amid salty air froth
As their dread soon begin to allay.

With the chocolate now gone,
Just how could they sail on?
But Oxnard soon loomed up ahead.
As they jumped on the pier
Disappeared all their fear
As they kissed the ground on which they tread.

They knew why they'd received
Such a little reprieve
And a trip of such great bargain rate.
Now once more ashore
They would say never more,
"This damn boat just will not macerate!"

(Full journal, with pics and video, here.)

Stampede of the Sea Lions (Channel Islands, Day 2)

We slept well last night -- almost nine hours, in fact -- fatigued by our many encounters with rotting animals and the unending activity of hauling anchors, hoisting halyards, and searching for the perpetually elusive "bag of bags" in the chaos of the galley. After a breakfast of omelets, the Sun Soleil headed towards Painted Cave, which, depending on which source you read, is either the world's largest sea cave or one of the largest. Cap'n Gary sent us off in our vessels -- Chris in the inflatable kayak, Robert, Sally, and I in the dinghy -- and circled about in the cove awaiting our return.

As we paddled into the opening -- 160 feet tall, according to the National Park Service site -- we met up with a small flotilla of kayaks on their way out, having ventured only halfway into the quarter-mile long tunnel due to lack of sufficient lighting. When they saw our giant beacon, they followed us back inside, hoping to see more of the lichen- and algae-painted interior.

Just inside the entrance, on a ledge on the right wall of the cave, perched a few smaller sea lions, who slept on, seemingly oblivious to our presence. But as we ventured further inwards, their blubbery friends splashed down from rock outcroppings on either side as we passed their resting places, only to bob up as silhouettes now and again. The sound of the surging surf subsided the further we went back, until, after rounding a corner, it was a soft droning hum, accompanied by the soft dripping of water from the cave’s roof. We paddled as far towards the back as we could, now completely dependent on the uber-beacon’s light. Chris, in the faster and more agile craft, led the way, warning us of protruding rocks and steering us away from dead ends.

Finally, we reached the back wall of the cave, which ended in a rocky beach that sloped precipitously upwards. Intent on seeing the farthest reaches of the world’s largest sea cave, Chris positioned his kayak parallel to shore, ready to hop out and explore on foot. From the dinghy, roughly 15 yards behind him, I shone the spotlight for him to see, while Sally and Robert steered us. When the rocks suddenly began spilling into the water like a stone waterfall, I had visions of the whole cavern collapsing – something akin to the ending of The Goonies, only much, much darker. In the light of our beacon we watched as a stampede of sea lions poured down the slope, leaping over and under Chris and nearly swamping his inflatable kayak. Their eyes shone like laser pointers in the darkness, then disappeared as they flopped into the water, their dark shapes flying towards us and creating a small current of waves as they disappeared into the dark.

Once the chaos was over, we noticed that our tagalong friends had beat a swift retreat away from the marauding pinnipeds, and Chris related how the sea lions had been so close he could smell and feel them, that they had bumped him from beneath as they darted into the watery depths. Although we hadn’t spotted the cave’s resident elephant seal, we’d had quite an adventure to tell when we returned to the mainland. On our way out of the cave, we spotted another “floaty dead thing,” then ran into two members of the Synapse, who seemed tickled pink by our story of the sea lion stampede.

We returned to the Sun Soleil, which we now steered towards Little Scorpion, on the lee side of the east end of Santa Cruz. There, Gary told us, we’d have ample time for kayaking and snorkeling before our evening meal. But we first wanted to give our sea legs a little land time, so back in the dinghy we went, heading towards a small inlet that, we were told, would lead to some pleasant hiking trails. We strolled upwards for some time, but after seeing nothing of note except endless grassy hills, we rested a bit, enjoying the stability of solid ground beneath us.

After that night’s dinner of spaghetti, we once again headed topside for a reprise of the Perseids. Although the sky was even clearer than yesterday, we didn’t see as many fireworks, although the few we did see were quite spectacular, lasting for several seconds as they streaked across the sky. One final day, then it’s back to the mainland for good.






Day 1: Santa Cruz: Spanish for "Isle of Corpses"?
Day 2: Stampede of the Sea Lions
Day 3: Anacapa: Unbagged

Yet Another Travel Meme

Come up with more questions of your own, because these are rather lame.

Home Is: Los Angeles, CA (although I grew up on Long Island and lived throughout the Tri-State area before moving out West)

The One Place I Haven’t Been But Want to Visit Before I Die: Only one? If that's the case, then I'd have to say Australia. It's been my number-one destination since I did a report in sixth grade, yet somehow I've been to more than 20 other countries first. Go figure.

The Weirdest Place I’ve Been: Weird? Long Island ain't normal. Vegas is delightfully dysfunctional. But weird? Ohio is up there. I might have to vote for Reno, just because I've teased my friend Michelle about her hometown since the day I met her (and before I'd even been there). I was disappointed when I finally visited and there weren't midgets and clowns walking on the streets. I don't know how I got that impression, but I suppose I was disappointed at how un-weird Reno is. Still, it isn't normal.

How I Feel About Flying: Much better about it now. I've had several worse-than-bad flying experiences, including my first flight ever, where my brother had to land the plane. I no longer panic like I once did, but I still like picking up/dropping off people at airports better than going myself. Of course, if I knew how to fly, I'd probably feel even better about the whole experience.

My Last Road Trip: Drove up north in my new Prius to see my ol' pal Dimi, whose belly is now the size of a volleyball. Marin is so bucolic that my paltry 36 hours up there felt quite relaxing and longer than it was. On the way back down, I stopped in Santa Cruz to see Julie, my roommate from UCLA, who I hadn't seen in roughly 14 years. (Note to self: Must spend more time in Santa Cruz. Why have I not done that yet?) After that, I hit the Monterey Bay Aquarium, thus checking off one more item on my California to-do list. Another six hours down a pitch-black PCH and I was back home.

My Last Train or Boat Adventure: Well, since it's technically a ship, I can't count my Bahamas trip. So I guess I'd have to say my shark-diving excursion to Isla Guadalupe.

Best Music for a Road Trip: My self-made "Road-Trip" playlist on my iPod. One hundred fifty songs makes most any ride just fly by.

My Favorite Travel Item Is: iPod, baby. Unfortunately, mine is on its last legs. I shall mourn Dirk when he finally passes and blurts his last digital note.

I Think That I Am A _____ Sort of a Traveler: Laidback? Adventurous? Sarcastic? Person-who-thinks-this-question-sucks?

The Farthest I've Traveled: Circumnavigated the globe during Semester at Sea. Get me back on that ship, please.

Taken From: How to Spell Stoopit

What Friendly Skies?

After my recent trip to Fort Lauderdale and the Bahamas (more on that to come in a future post, complete with pics), I've come to realize that people are just getting exponentially ruder. Even in our own country, we are ugly Americans, out-graced by those brave enough to visit our ill-mannered shores.

This truth is never more evident than when you fly, one of my least favorite activities (I'll take a train over a plane any day). Not only do airplanes epitomize discomfort, but they also seem to attract those who believe that buying a one-time ticket somehow entitles them to behave as if they were sitting at home in their Barcalounger watching Monday night football.

People should need a license to fly -- not to fly the plane, just to ride. You get a license at birth, but commit too many fouls, and phht! License revoked! (This should also be true of attending concerts or even going to movies. Too many people can't even handle the etiquette required for these simple pastimes.)

I'm sure I've overlooked one or two biggies, but these are the ten most important etiquette rules (based on my most recent trip) to follow when traveling by plane -- both for your own comfort and the comfort of those you're flying with. Remember: You bought a ticket not a pink-slip to the plane.

10. Don't Offend the Olfactory. You're in close quarters on a plane. You can look disheveled and it's not going to bother the passenger next to you. But if the waves of stench coming out of your pits are visible, you've got an issue. If you plan to fall asleep, pop a mint first. (This last flight, my considerate neighbor chose to down two Heinekens before passing out and exhaling beer breath on me for the next three hours.) Bringing your meal with you? Leave the tuna or peanut butter for another time. This goes for nice aromas, too: Don't overdo it on the perfume/cologne. The sweet, clean scent of Dial will do just nicely.

9. Mind the Personal Space. Coach is small enough without you jutting an extra elbow or leg into your neighbor's precious 31" of allotted space. Before you turn on your side to lean against the window, make sure your ass isn't jutting under the armrest of the poor guy in the crappy center seat. When you take off your coat, make sure you don't elbow the woman next to you in the chest (happened to me). When you're getting out of the seat, don't lean on the seatback, which can either rock the tray of the person behind you or pull the hair of the person in front of you (both have also happened to me).

8. My Space? Quick question: Who owns the space directly in front of your face and just behind the seatback ahead? Yes, that would be you. So, what that means is that the space behind you isn't yours. Be polite and check behind you before reclining the seat, just in case your rear neighbor has really long legs or, worse, a cast. (Yup, had someone slam a seat into my knee while I was in a full-on leg brace after knee surgery.) Ask yourself if you really need that extra three degrees of reclining to feel comfortable or, if like with the free peanuts of yesteryear, you're just taking advantage of what little the airline has given you. Then, if you still feel the need to recline, do so slowly so the person behind you has time to get away, if need be. (Note: On redeyes, it's pretty much a given you're going to recline. Just do so slowly.)

7. Don't Be a Cork. Keep the line moving. Have your boarding pass and ID available at all necessary stops: check-in, all security points, at the gate. As soon as you get to your seat, get out of the aisle as quickly as possible; you don't need to stand in the aisle to put your purse in the overhead. Stow your luggage in the closest available overhead in relation to your seat -- not as far forward as is convenient for you (that will only make debarkation slower for everyone). Make sure you don't exceed the number of carry-ons and that those you do take qualify as carry-ons (hint: skis are not carry-ons). Don't wear 18-hole Doc Martens and more jewelry than Mr. T through security. And no matter where you are, stay out of the way of traffic: Don't stand in doorways, or at the bottom of escalators. If you're going slowly on the moving walkway, stay to the right -- and remember that advice next time you're on the freeway, too.

6. Toilet Taboo. The restrooms in the airport are much cleaner than those on the plane. Use them before you board. If you have a hamster bladder, ask for an aisle seat ahead of time. If you know you're going to be getting up several times and you don't have an aisle seat, try to switch; explain your situation to your neighbor and they just might let you have the aisle so that they don't have to be inconvenienced. If you can't get an aisle and it's a redeye, wear Depends.

5. Turn Down, Tune Out. I love music as much as the rest of you, but I can almost guarantee I don't love your music. I don't want to hear it, or the crappy in-flight movie soundtrack. Turn down the volume on your headphones. Especially if it's a redeye. And you listen to metal. Or Celine Dion.

4. Turn Off Your Portable Electronic Device. The flight crew doesn't ask this because they're jealous of your U2 limited-edition iPod or your Razr. It's because these devices can actually interfere with the control panels. Know how your cell makes your car radio or computer monitor go all fuzzy-wonky? Same effect at work here. And when they say you can turn it on, pop your ears before talking. We don't all need to hear you yell, "Grandma, I just landed in Los Angeles!" We all know. We just did, too.

3. Buy Leashes for Your Kids. A flight is not the time to put parenting on hiatus. I shouldn't have to ask your kid five times to stop kicking my seat while you pretend he's not yours and stare up at the crappy in-flight flick. You were able to afford the kid and the airfare, now invest in a Game Boy to keep the rest of us happy. Crying babies -- whatcha gonna do? But there's no reason your 11-year-old can't sit down and shut up.

2. Leave. Me. Alone. If I'm reading a book, don't try to start up a full-on conversation. If I have headphones on, there's a reason. If I'm sleeping, I may talk in my sleep, but I also have been known to flail and hit. If I'm watching the movie, I just might be bored enough to want to chat, but if I slap my headphones back on after I tersely answer where I'm from, I'd rather watch Outbreak 6 than chat with you. (This isn't to say I don't like meeting people. I'm just usually way too tired on a plane to converse civilly with a total stranger.)

1. Give Up the 'Rest. This isn't a given, but I'd like to see this enacted. Four armrests + three seats = someone gets two armrests. Who should that be? In the interest of fairness, I say the center seat gets it. There's a reason why no one asks for the center seat: It sucks. So let's make it a tad more comfortable by giving the poor guy in the center the two armrests. If you don't like it, give up your cush aisle or window seat.