We just found out yesterday that Southwest Airlines will soon be flying to Pittsburgh. That’s awesome news — they’re cheaper than everyone else, and they go everywhere The Wife and I want to go.

 

And it means we won’t have to fly Delta ever again.

 

So I haven’t explained about the Christmas trip The Wife and I took to see our nephews in Tampa over that weekend.

 

Being there was great, even though the weather was a little chilly for the Floridians. The boys were as crazy as expected — they woke up pretty much once an hour and snuck into my sister’s bedroom to ask their parents if it was time to open presents yet. At 6 a.m. Christmas morning, there was no turning back.

And then we ate a lot, worked on setting up my sister’s new iPod, and ate some more.

 

Being there was great. Getting there was not, thanks to Delta and the storm that screwed everybody on the night before Christmas Eve.

 

Actually, the storm didn’t bother us until the trip back, four freaking days later. But we’ll get to that.

 

Naturally, we were a little nervous about the flights after hearing about the havoc just a couple hours to the west. But I kept checking the web site for the Pittsburgh Airport and the only flights that were running into problems were those headed into Cincinnati or other places buried by the storm on the 23rd. I checked the site again just before we left for the airport; on time.

 

We get to the airport an hour later. Whoops. Two-hour delay. We’re told it has nothing to do with the weather. OK. No biggie. We get on to a later flight from Atlanta to Tampa, and go eat breakfast.

 

Then we get to the gate. The flight is now canceled. We go back to the ticket counter. Delta says the earliest they can get us to Tampa is early afternoon on Christmas.

 

So I get on the phone with a Delta rep to ask about getting placed on another airline. The line is quiet for a while, and then I’m told that there are no other seats available on any airline that will get us to Tampa that day.

 

That was lie No. 1.

 

The Wife had been checking with ticket agents at other counters and found several options. One US Airways itinerary would have cost us about $1,000 apiece. Yikes. But there were flights on AirTran and USA3000, and either would get us there.

 

So I get back on the phone to tell the Delta folks about getting us on the AirTran flights. More silence, and then she tells me it’s done. We’re booked, and we should head over to the AirTran counter to get checked in.

 

That was lie No. 2.

 

AirTran had never heard of us. And if it hadn’t been for the Sister of Uncle Crappy, who thought quickly enough to get us online reservations, we wouldn’t have gone. But we get it worked out, and The Wife pays for the new tickets with her credit card. Delta will reimburse us, right?

 

We’ll get to that.

 

On the way back, the storm finally got us. Our flight from Tampa to Atlanta was OK, but we were to take a Comair flight back home, and Comair was still tangled in a massive clusterfuck from the bad weather. Our flight was canceled. There were fewer hassles this time, though; the biggest problem is that we got home about six hours after we were supposed to, killing the nice, relaxing Christmas celebration The Wife and I were looking forward to at home.

 

So the next day, I call Delta. I explain that we were given, um, incorrect information at least twice, and that we could have gotten to Tampa faster if we had hitchhiked. What did the nice folks at Delta do for us? Pretty much nothing. They reimbursed us for the cost of the original itinerary, but refused to refund the difference — sorry, THE THREE-HUNDRED DOLLAR DIFFERENCE — between the cost of the AirTran tickets and theirs.

 

The nice woman I talked to said she was sorry that Delta had inconvenienced us. “getting home six hours late was an inconvenience; $300 is a major fucking hassle,” I said a bit more politely than I do here. The only recourse is to send a letter to the king-hell corporate customer fixer guys and see what they say. Normal people can’t actually speak with the king-hell corporate customer fixer guys — you have to send them a fax or a letter.

 

It’s been sent. And now I’m waiting. I’m not expecting much. Other than I’m going to fly AirTran or Southwest next time I’m going to Florida.