It’s the height of the summer vacation season. A time when air travel–and airline arrogance–are at their annual height.
Consider the following real-life scenario:
- You’re vacationing in Denver and must return to San Francisco for an urgent-care medical appointment
- You’re disabled but nevertheless arrive at the airport on time.
- The airport–in violation of the Americans With Disabilities Act–doesn’t have anyone assigned to help disabled passengers get onto departing planes.
- As a result, you arrive at the gate–just as the plane takes off.
- The airline informs you that if you want to board a plane, you’ll have to pay for another ticket.
- You can’t afford to buy another ticket–and your urgent-care appointment is tomorrow.
What do you do?
In this case, the stranded passenger–a friend of mine–called me: Bureaucracybuster.
First, I instinctively called the airline company. And that meant starting at the top–the president’s office.
I punched the name of the airline–and the words, “Board of Directors”–into Google. This gave me several websites to click on to obtain the information I needed.
I started dialing–and quickly hung up: I had just remembered the day was a Sunday. Nobody but cleaning crews would be occupying the airline’s executive offices that day.
I had to start all over.
Next, I decided to call Denver Airport and find an official who would help Rachel onto another flight–without charging her for it.
I didn’t know where to start, so I decided that starting anywhere was just fine. As I was routed from one person to another, I would develop a sense of who I needed to reach.
Some of those I reached seemed genuinely concerned with Rachel’s plight. Others gave me the “that’s-life-in-the-big-city” attitude.
One of the latter felt I wasn’t deferential enough in my tone. He threatened to notify the chief of airport security.
“Go ahead,” I said. “I once worked for the United States Attorney’s Office. I’ll be glad to talk with him.”
He backed off–just as I had assumed he would.
Usually the best way to deal with threats is to directly confront the person making them.
(A friend of mine, Richard St. Germain, spent part of his 11 years with the U.S. Marshals Service protecting Mafia witnesses.
Witness being protected by deputy U.S. marshals
(Many of them didn’t like the places where they were to be relocated under new identities. “I’m going to complain to the Attorney General,” some of them would threaten.
(St. Germain would reach for his office phone, plant it before the witness, and say, “Call him. I’ll give you his number.” The witness always backed off.)
Eventually I reached the Chief of Airport Operations.
I outlined what had happened. He didn’t seem very sympathetic. So I decided to transfer the problem from Rachel to the airport.
Without raising my voice, I said: “It isn’t her fault that your airport was in non-compliance with the Americans With Disabilities Act and she missed her flight because there wasn’t anyone to assist her.”
Suddenly his tone changed–and I could tell I had definitely reached him.
No doubt visions of federal investigations, private lawsuits and truly bad publicity for his airport flashed across his mind. And all this had been achieved without my making an overt threat of any kind.
He said he would see to it that she got onto another flight without having to buy a second ticket.
I called Rachel to give her the good news. But a few minutes later she called me back, almost in tears.
The airline official at the departure gate was giving her a bad time: “If we have to choose between you and another passenger who has a ticket for this flight, he’ll go, not you.”
She laid out a series of other scenarios under which Rachel would remain stranded in Denver.
So once again I called the Chief of Airport Operations: “I just got a call from Rachel. She’s being hassled by an official at the gate. Can you please send someone over there and put a stop to this nonsense?”
A few minutes later, I got another call from Rachel–this one totally upbeat. She said that a man who identified himself only as an airport official–but wearing an expensive suit–had visited her at the gate.
When the ticket-taking airline official had protested, he had cut her off. The official had then walked Rachel and her baggage onto an otherwise fully-loaded 777 jet bound for San Francisco.
Soon she was en route to San Francisco for her urgent-care medical appointment the next day.
So if you’re having troubles with an airline:
- Start by calling the highest-ranking airline official you can reach.
- You may be able to find this out by punching the name of the airline in Google
- If the official isn’t available or sympathetic, call the airport.
- Be persistent–but businesslike.
- Don’t let yourself be bullied.
- If you can cite a legal violation by the airline and/or airport, don’t hesitate to do so.
- But don’t make overt threats: the official will get the message
- Don’t hesitate to play for sympathy: “This is a woman has an urgent-care doctor’s appointment….”
Then cross your fingers and hope for the best.




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DAVY CROCKETT VS. DONALD TRUMP
In Bureaucracy, Business, History, Politics, Social commentary on August 25, 2015 at 12:06 amIt’s a scene you couldn’t imagine seeing in John Wayne’s 1960 film, “The Alamo.” Especially with The Duke playing a hard-drinking, two-fisted Davy Crockett.
John Wayne as Davy Crockett
But it occurs in the novel, Crockett of Tennessee, by Cameron Judd. And it is no less affecting for its being–so far as we know–entirely fictional.
It’s the last night of life for the Alamo garrison–the night before the 2,000 men of the Mexican Army hurl themselves at the former mission and slaughter its 200 Texian defenders.
The fort’s commander, William Barret Travis, has drawn his “line in the sand” and invited the garrison to choose: To surrender, to try to escape, or to stay and fight to the death.
And the garrison–except for one man–chooses to stay and fight. That man is Louis “Moses” Rose, a Frenchman who has served in Napoleon’s Grande Armee and survived the frightful retreat from Moscow.
He vaults a low wall of the improvised fort, flees into the moonless desert, and eventually makes his way to the home of a family who give him shelter.
But for the garrison, immortality lies only hours away. Or does it?
An hour after deciding to stand and die in the Alamo, wrapped in the dark of night, Crockett is seized with paralyzing fear.
“We’re going to die here,” he chokes out to his longtime friend, Persius Tarr. “You understand that, Persius? We’re going to die!”
“I know, Davy. But there ain’t no news in that,” says Tarr. “We’re born to die. Every one of us. Only difference between us and most everybody else is we know when and where it’s going to be.”
“But I can’t be afraid–not me. I’m Crockett. I’m Canebrake Davy. I’m half-horse, half-alligator.”
“I know you are, Davy,” says Tarr. ”So do all these men here. That’s why you’re going to get past this.
“You’re going to put that fear behind you and walk back out there and fight like the man you are. The fear’s come and now it’s gone. This is our time, Davy.”
“The glory-time,” says Crockett.
“That’s right, David. The glory-time.”
And then Tarr delivers a sentiment wholly alien to money-obsessed men like Mitt Romney and Donald Trump–who comprise the richest and most privileged 1% of today’s Americans.
“There’s men out there with their eyes on you. You’re the only thing keeping the fear away from them. You’re joking and grinning and fiddling-–it gives them courage they wouldn’t have had without you.
“Maybe that’s why you’re here, Davy–to make the little men and the scared men into big and brave men. You’ve always cared about the little men, Davy. Remember who you are.
“You’re Crockett of Tennessee, and your glory-time has come. Don’t you miss a bit of it.”
The next morning, the Mexicans assault the Alamo. Crockett embraces his glory-time-–and becomes a legend for all-time.
David Crockett (center) at the fall of the Alamo
David Crockett (1786-1836) lived–and died–a poor man. But this did not prevent him from trying to better the lives of his family and fellow citizens–and even his former enemies.
David Crockett
During the War of 1812, he served as a scout under Andrew Jackson. His foes were the Creek Indians, who had massacred 500 settlers at Fort Mims, Alabama–and threatened to do the same to Crockett’s neighbors in Tennessee.
As a Congressman from Tennessee, he championed the rights of poor whites. And he opposed then-President Jackson’s efforts to force the same defeated Indians to depart the lands guaranteed them by treaty.
To Crockett, a promise was sacred–whether given by a single man or the United States Government.
And his presence during the 13-day siege of the Alamo did cheer the spirits of the vastly outnumbered defenders.
It’s a matter of historical record that he and a Scotsman named MacGregor often staged musical “duels” to see who could make the most noise.
It was MacGregor with his bagpipes against Crockett and his fiddle.
Contrast this devotion of Crockett to the rights of “the little men,” as Persius Tarr called them, with the attitude of Donald Trump, the currently-favored Republican candidate for President in 2016.
Donald Trump
On June 16, while announcing his candidacy, Trump said:
Those who give their lives for others are rightly loved as heroes. Those who dedicate their lives only to their wallets are rightly soon forgotten.
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