e! shopping

Not having returned to my native land in two years (and I do mean land, not planet, so I'll thank you all to keep your Pluto jokes to yourselves, particularly since Pluto is no longer even a planet, having been debunked more thoroughly than St. Christopher) the time had come to book a ticket home.

I decided to try and do the whole thing online, as I've never cared for travel agents and, judging by the number of good deals they've found for me over the years, the feeling is mutual. I broke the trip into three parts and here are the results:

London - Halifax, Nova Scotia (return)

I booked this through Zoom Airlines, and yes they do exist, although I will be the first to admit they're improbable (I TOTALLY stole that phrasing from a very funny Brit who used it in reference to Canada which somehow justifies my theft. Somehow.) The process was quick, the price was right, and the only delay was caused by my bank (perhaps you've heard of it - $%#@&!!!! bank?) which has been expecting me to function with a 10,000 kc monthly limit on my debit card. This required a trip to my branch on the other side of town to correct, but aside from that, the Zoom booking was flawless. I plugged in all the necessary information (under dietary needs I tried to select "edible" but it wasn't an option) and BAM! I received an email confirmation and a reference number and I was in business. It was that quick. The reply came back so rapidly, it cracked my my monitor, I had to patch it up with electrical tape to continue.


Prague-London (return)

I booked this through EasyJet and not only was it fast (fortunately, the electrical tape held) it was CHEAP. I'm serious! Even with taxes, which usually hide in the bushes like the five hitchhikers you don't see when you stop to pick up the innocuous looking guy with the glasses and the hemp man-purse, it was still cheap.

And now a word on global warming: I realize air travel is the greatest culprit in speeding the melting of the polar ice caps and wreaking general havoc with the world's climate. I know the carbon footprint of the frequent flyer is sasquatch-esque. I realize the days of cheap flights are numbered and I understand why, but I am still happy to have landed one cheap flight before the glory days of cheap travel ended.

Halifax-New York (return)

Having decided to go home for an entire month (a decision I'll be informing my boss about any day now), I further decided to go and visit a friend in my favorite city on earth, New York. Or as I always think of it, STARBUCKS! (Stepan, be prepared to do some serious de-programming on my return. You know how much I love your country.)

And here's where my online shopping experience began to come apart at the seams.

Initially, the booking process seemed as simple as the previous two. I punched in all the relevant info and received an email confirming my booking and containing a reference number. Mission accomplished, I thought, removing my flightsuit and taking down the banner I'd strung across the home office. But noooooo. The next day, I received a second email, requesting me to print out the attached form, fill it out, then either fax it or scan/email it back along with photocopies of both sides of my payment card by 4 that afternoon. I wrote and suggested it would be easier for me to come into their Mustek office and take care of payment in person on my lunch hour, they were agreeable.

I arrived at their office at 12:05 and was served immediately. The travel agent began typing and typing and typing. Then she took my debit card and consulted the other travel agent about it at some length. Then she ran it through the credit card machine, then she photocopied both sides of it. Taking a pen, she completed the invoice in ink, had me sign it, then set it aside for a moment while she went back to typing. I heard a printer activate in the bowels of the office, and she went off and came back with two additional pieces of paper for me to sign. She stapled the first invoice to the second and handed them to me saying, "These are exactly the same thing." Then she went back to her typing. And typing. Then a little vacant staring at the monitor. Then some more typing, then she returned to the printer and came back with three pieces of paper which she stapled together and showed me saying "This is your e-ticket."

I admit, I was impressed. I could have sworn it was a paper ticket, but as I've been telling anyone who will listen (i.e. Shay, god bless him) apparently they use that new "I can't believe it's not paper!" paper.

But this maestro of the online purchase was not yet finished. She now printed me a three-page itinerary, and having folded everything and shoved it into a cardboard ticket sleeve, she once again returned to her computer.

"Now," she said, "I will make your invoice."

By this time, my lunch hour was all but over, and, being already in possession of two invoices, I couldn't really see the need for a third, but I waited, nonetheless.

She typed, then typed, then stared vacantly, then typed, then stared vacantly, then typed...

"I'm sorry," I finally said, "but I have to go back to work."

"I will send it to your email," she said.

"Yes," I replied, "Send it to my email. Now, may I have my card back?"

"You have your card."

"No, I don't actually."

Follows a search for my card which turns up, where she left it, in the photocopier.

And so, I left, staggering under the weight of my e-ticket, knowing that, in addition to the environmental damage I will do by flying, I can add my contribution to decimating the earth's forests. My only comfort is that I didn't also punch the travel agent in the face, adding grievous bodily harm to a service industry employee to my list of sins. Perhaps there's hope for me yet.

NOTE: I've chosen to illustrate this post with a shot of a fighter jet from the Belgian Air Force because I had no idea there was a Belgian Air Force.