There Is No More Soup!!!

I decide to go home early.  The original flight on Friday afternoon was on Delta, the third leg of a triangular flight, and there is no possibility of doing that third leg on a different airline.  Instead, I buy a one-way ticket on AirTran (from Travelocity) on Wednesday morning for a Thursday afternoon flight.  I am willing to just pay for the new flight and not use the old one, in order to be home.

The AirTran Thursday flight is reasonably cheap, and as is often the case with low-rent airlines, there is no option to select a seat.  No problem -- they'll assign me a seat at check-in when I drop off my checked luggage.

No.  Must happen at the gate, then.

At the gate, the jetway agent makes a fairly aggressive announcement.  "If your boarding pass does not have a seat assignment printed on it, then... YOU DO NOT HAVE A SEAT ASSIGNMENT!!!  Go to customer service and get a seat assignment, or don't say I didn't warn you."  [This is not me being funny... this is as verbatim as I can get it.]

The desk agent also is on the PA. (Along with all the flight information from all the other gates, to Toledo, Kansas City, and a million other things.  I'm assuming that someone has done some research on acoustic disorientation in air terminals, but if not, it's a crucial area of study.)  "This is an oversold flight.  AirTran is offering a $200 travel voucher to anyone willing to take a later flight."  No volunteers.

I and two others are standing at the agent desk.  I ask about getting a seat assignment.  "This flight is oversold.  I just said that.  We're waiting for volunteers, and I can't give you a seat assignment until I have seats."  The young college-aged woman next to me starts to cry.  "I bought this ticket three months ago!  I HAVE to be in Boston today!!"  The agent says, "I have to wait for..." she checks her watch... "seven more minutes, and then I can give you a seat for any no-shows.

She gets on the PA.  "If you have not yet checked in to Flight 205 to Boston, you need to proceed to Gate B7 immediately.  If you have not checked in by ten minutes before the hour, your seats will be released to standby passengers."  At which point the agent over at the jetway also gets on the PA and calls across the seating area to the ticket agent, "No, we're full.  We're at 117.  There are no more seats."  They're having a personal conversation over the PA system, with 6,000 people in the terminal wondering if they need to pause their phone calls to hear what's being said.  And their computer system shows the gate agent different numbers of people having arrived than it's showing the jetway agent.  I really do hate air travel.

The ticket agent then turns to the three of us and goes through a series of reasons why this is all our fault.

• "You can't just buy a ticket the day of the flight and get a seat assignment anymore.  The flights are always oversold.  You have to buy at least 24 hours in advance."  But the young woman bought her ticket months ago, and even I bought mine more than 24 hours early -- 32 hours, to be exact.  
• "But did you select a seat assignment?"  No, there was no option to do so.  
• "You should have selected a seat.  Once you buy a seat, then you have the seat."  There was no option to do so.
• "I've worked for four airlines, and they all oversell their flights."  

This was the point at which I had to do something beyond correct her assumptions.  "That's a really dumb business model.  At least we should know if there's a risk that we might not get a seat.  If you want to buy a can of soup, and I'm out of soup, then I can't sell you a can of soup!  I'm out.  There's nothing left to sell.  Listen, I know this is not YOUR fault.  You must go through this all the time, right?"  At which moment the ticket agent herself was near tears.  "I've been with AirTran since September.  My doctor is telling me I have to quit, this stress is not good for me.  There's nobody else who does it this way."  She pulls herself together.  "We're three seats oversold.  Let me see if I can find some volunteers."

The pot has been sweetened, by the way, to a full round-trip voucher to anywhere on AirTran's network.  (Which, by this time, I'm seeing as akin to an offer of an extra month in a juvenile detention center.)   One volunteer steps forward, and the gate agent comes back to the three of us, points to me, and says, "I think you were here first."  I said, "Get this girl on the plane."

The young woman is still crying a little bit, but she says "thank you" and gets her new boarding pass.  She goes to stand at the head of the jetway.  The agent walks back to the jetway as well.  She's gone for five minutes, but finally returns with two other passengers who'd already gotten on the plane.  They'd given up their seats for some unknown incentive (probably a round-trip flight on a real, grown-up airline).  The gate agent came back and got new boarding passes for the two of us who remained, and we walked to join the young woman at the jetway.  She turned to greet us, and said to me, "Good things happen to nice people," and gave us both a high five.

So happy ending, all's well, etc.  But I can't get over the idea that a business as important to our economy as passenger air is allowed to sell 110% of its capacity without being extraordinarily clear every time that your ticket is nothing more than a ticket to a jetway lottery.  If a business is selling a CHANCE to get on the plane, then they need to be regulated by the State Gaming Commission.  But if they're selling a product, then they need to quit selling when they've run out.