Kathryn Bertine – United We Fall

A cyclist walks into an airport. Goes up to the United Airlines counter to check in.

The woman behind the desk says “Where you going today?”

The cyclist says, “Switzerland.”

The woman behind the desk says, “How many bags?”

The cyclist says, “One.”

The woman behind the desk says, “That’ll be $525 for the bag, please.”

The cyclist says, “Wait… this isn’t a joke?”

The woman behind the desk says, “No.”

The cyclist says, “My Travis Rodgers readers are going to be very unhappy about this.”

The woman behind the desk says, “Who?”

The cyclist then understands that United Airlines is the Devil. And that it is best to walk away before going all Serena Williams on the ticket agent.

And so begins my trip to the World Championships in cycling, where I am wallet-raped by United Airlines in broad daylight in the middle of the Phoenix airport. While this might seem like an essay on the complaints of modern day baggage robbery, it is actually a true glimpse behind the iron curtain of how the other pro athletes—as in, the not-yet-famous-but-hoping-to-get-there—make it or break it in their respective field of dreams. Lance Armstong, for example, doesn’t need to worry about bike baggage fees because the dude has his own jet. I, on the other hand, race for a small country (St. Kitts and Nevis) that cannot offer sponsorship or financial assistance to help get me to races. So baggage fees and travel come out of my pocket until I start winning. That’s okay. That’s how it goes in sports. I don’t want a medal or a cookie or a pat on the back for my efforts. What I do want is fair play. United, it seems, is worst opponent an Olympic hopeful could ask for.

Last year, my bike flew to Europe for free on United. This year? $525… ONE WAY. But wait, there’s more! First, a disclaimer: I am very, very, very poor at all things mathematical. If there is a clinical level of mental retardation in math, then I possess that diagnosis. At the very least, I can add and subtract most numbers with three digits or less but I do have to use my fingers and/or talk out loud while problem solving. Now, back to the Devil. In front of me, a family of five (two adults and three children under 10) is checking the allotted two bags per person onto their international flight. The parents have obviously enjoyed their shopping trip to the United States, as they have a total of ten bags all of which weigh 50 lbs each. They are using their three children as luggage mules, but according to United, this is not a problem. This family is not charged any baggage fee. I even watch as one bag weighs in at 52lbs, but the ticket agent sighs and says, “Well, okay, I’ll let it go for this one.” So tell me, United, how a five-year-old can legally check two bags totaling 100lbs for free but a grown woman gets charged $525 for one box weighing 75lbs? How, in hell or elsewhere, does that add up? But wait, there’s more!

When I go to check in my bike box, I assume it will be free as international flights have always waived any bike fee. When the woman at the ticket counter charges me $175, I tell her this is outrageous. When she then adds the $350 heavy weight charge, I’m outraged but also confused. If the bike fee is supposed to incorporate the bulky, large, heavy charge, then why am I being charged again? For any amount? I ask her this, and she says,

“There is nothing I can do.” Yeah, right. I ask for her supervisor. That’s when things get nasty.

Supervisor Devil comes over and says there’s nothing she can do. I point out the luggage mule family before me, and she says, “Those people have normal bags. You are not normal.”

Well, my un-normalcy is not news to me, but being outright insulted by the United rep is a new one. Only family and friends have the right to unnormalize me. Not strangers! The ticket lady then says to me, “ Can you take anything out of the box to make it lighter?”

Now things just get plain stupid. Inside my bike box are two bike frames and the little bag that holds their disassembled components (saddles, pedals, etc). I tell her I could take out the little bag, but what difference would that make? Isn’t it all going on the same plane? And worse, why would I want to risk losing two bags when I can combine them together? And wouldn’t it save United space on the plane if the two bags were combined? Again, my math skills are weak, but I feel my logic is adding up. The ticket woman shakes her head and says, “There is nothing I can do.” She then adds, “You have ten minutes to check your bag, or it won’t get on the flight.” So there I am. I have to pay the $525 or my bikes won’t make it to Worlds and I won’t get to race. I fork over the money.

A moment of clarification to those wondering: “Hey dumbass, why don’t you ship your bikes by UPS or rent a bike in Switzerland?” Good questions. But improbable. If I ship my bikes (time trial and road) to Europe, I am left without my bikes for two weeks prior to the most important race of the year. This would be the equivalent of asking a marathoner not to run for two weeks leading up to the World Championships. Renting a bike, similarly, would be like asking a baseball player to use someone else’s glove during the World Series. Or maybe like asking a devil to use someone else’s pitchfork to spear some poor soul into air travel hell. Yeah, just doesn’t work as well.

On my way into the terminal, a man approaches me. He observed my ticket counter escapades and introduces himself as an elite wrestling coach, also traveling to a competition in Europe. He tells me he checked seven bags for his athletes, and was not charged a penny because United supports his Olympic hopeful team. I go back to the counter and find the She Devil supervisor. I tell her I, too, am an Olympic hopeful for 2012. (This is true, more on that in another article).

“Do you have a coupon?” she asks. “A voucher?”

“I need a voucher for hope?”

“Yes, you do for United.”

“Please, ma’am. I’m representing a country at the World Championships.”

“There’s nothing I can do.

I get on the plane, broke in wallet and spirit. I spend the next twelve hours wondering what happened to customer service, mourning the death of common sense, and nearly crying tears of laugher at the fact United sponsors the charity Feeding America, but won’t give its 250 passengers a freaking sandwich. I get to Switzerland, come in 37th in the stacked field at the World Championships, and then get charged $220 for the bike box on the way home. At $745, the cost for my bike to race at Worlds has now exceeded my own plane ticket. So goes a week in the life of an Olympic hopeful pro cyclist.

Now, I may suck at math, but I’m pretty sure my real problem with this United equation lies in the fact that not all are considered equal. I don’t know much about devilish corporate policy, hellish baggage monopolies, or why common sense went belly-up, but I do know that one girl with a bike and a dream, one wrestling coach with magical vouchers, and one five-year-old with bags that outweigh him need to be treated as equal players in the consumer game. Because I’d really like to return to my career as a sports journalist and not spend any more time attempting United’s customer service department (so far the count is three disconnected, half-hour calls in the past 6 hours). Hopefully United will come around and fix this issue. Until then I’m afraid my new motto is: United we fall, divided I….wait, division…that’s the one with the little line and two dots, right?

Kathryn Bertine