Airports annoy me.

I feel like we've reached a new point in world airline crappiness and inefficiency.  One that still has me a tiny bit outraraged.  No, its not the caardboadr, tasteless airline food.  Nor is it the fact that you can't take liquids through security (although I still think this is an utterly stupid rule that always seems to deprive me of half a bottle of of my elixer of life-- diet coke-- for at least 15 minutes and never fails to make me grumpy.  Like terrorists haven't thought to bring their explosives in powder form and mix them with the little glasses of water the underpaid stewardesses  so generously offer (note to would be terrorists: I'm kidding.  It won't work, so don't try it.  At least not on my flight.  Why are you reading my blog anyway??)).

No.  The inane new 'policy' I'm talking about here is the fact that you can't change the name on your ticket once its booked without buying a new one.

My dear, lovely, utterly fabulous parents and grandmother, Honey, have generously used their frequent flier** points to secure me a ticket to fly to Texas in November to spend Thanksgiving with my family.  Unfortunately, Honey booked the ticket under the name 'Jessica Markham'.  Nine times out of ten, she'd be right.  Work thinks I'm 'Jessica Markham', my drivers license and home loan are in the same name, and I introduce myself as a Markham to everyone these days.  But according to the US government, at least where passports are concerned, I'm still 'Jessica Rigby'. 

I called United airlines tonight to see if this was going to be a problem.  I've got official, government issued identification indicating that I'm both a Markham and a Rigby***, and have a fairly official marriage certificate indicating the name change, but evidently this is not enough.  No.  Because this is an international, long haul flight, I have to have a passport indicating that I'm 'Jessica Markham'.   Here's how the conversation went:

Me (in cheery, I'm-a-happy-customer-who-just-wants-a-break tones): "Hi, my grandmother just booked me a flight using my married name but my passport is still in my maiden name.  My passport still is in my maiden name, but I've got ids and a marriage certificate in both my maiden and married names.  If I bring them, its not going to be a problem, is it?"

Airline rep (who only very recently learned to speak English and is clearly fielding my call from a center from somewhere United doesn't fly):  "Your passport will need to be in the same name as your ticket to check in"

Me (slightly annoyed):  But my passport isn't in the same name.  Can I change the name on the ticket? 

Airline rep:  Let me get my manager (this exchange is somewhat abbreviated.  Go with it.)

In case you're wondering, 'let me get my manager' is airline rep speak for either 'My command of English isn't good enough to deal with anything other than requesting vegetarian meals or a seat change' or 'I can tell you're an unhappy, pushy bitch and I'm not trained to deal with you'.  In this case, obviously, it was the later.

Airline rep (after an obnoxiously long hold):  We cannot change the name on your ticket, but I can cancel the ticket and re-issue it for a fee.

Me (seriously annoyed):  'But I'm the same person.  Jessica Markham is the same as Jessica Rigby.  I'm actually Jessica Rigby Markham.  How much is the change fee?

Airline rep:  'The change fee for a reward flight is $150.  You said your grandmother booked the ticket?  She will need to call and make the change.'

Me:  'That's outrageous.  The flights were only just booked today.  You're telling me it will cost $150 to change the name on a ticket that was booked less than 12 hours ago?!'

Airline rep:  'United policy states blah blah blah blah blah blah'.

She didn't get much further as I hung up. 

I just googled to see what the process would be to change my passport to reflect my married name. 

Turns out, its easier and cheaper to get issued a US passport in Australia that changes a name I've been known and loved by for 24 years than get a name changed on an airline ticket that was issued less than 12 hours ago. 

My passport was my last bastion that exists to my maiden name.  To be honest, I haven't wanted to change it.  Not that I don't like being a Markham, I do, but I like being a Rigby too, and I quite liked that I could still officially be a Rigby.  I'm not normally an overly sentimental or pedantic kind of person, but changing my name officially for the last and final time sort of gets to me in a fundamental, quasi-feminist, who-I-am sort of way.

I'm still going to get the change made, mostly because the thought of having to pay a hundred and fifty bucks overrides my sentimentality, but still... I'm annoyed.  I think I will change it to 'Jessica Leigh Rigby Markham' instead of 'Jessica Leigh Markham' just to feel vindicated.  But it still burns. 

On another airline related note, I flew to Sydney today for a work conference.  I'm one of those people that, no matter how diligently I pack or how innocent I look, I still get picked for those annoying additional security checks.  I'm the person that always forgot about the nailclippers stashed in the bottom of their purse or the little packets of jam swiped from the airport cafe.  Sure enough, what do you know, I was stopped for an additional security check.  People with turbans, bloodshot eyes and hidden swiss army knives swarm past, but me?  I get stopped.  I'm pretty sure its a ploy.  Like 'look at us, we're not racial profiling.  We stopped the pale, curly blonde girl with the pink cardigan.  Don't accuse us of racial profiling'.  So, a note to all the other pale, curly blondes out there... don't go into drug smuggling.  You'll totally get caught. 

** My spellcheck thinks this word is 'flier'.  I think its spelled 'flyer'.  I've gone with spellcheck here, but note that, in the event that you disagree with my spelling, I disagree too.  Not a reflection on my grammatical skills and abilities, which are fabulous.  

 ***  Interesting factoid:  'Markham' is acceptable to my spellcheck, but 'Rigby' is not.  They want my maiden name to be 'Rugby', 'Ruby', or 'Rig by'.  As if. 

An Open Letter to My Wii Fit

Dear Mr. Wii, 

I run a family-friendly blog here, but if I didn't I'd have two words to say to you.

The first rhymes with 'suck'.
The second rhymes with 'poo'.

I should have known the fun wouldn't last.  But when I first stepped on you your delightfully digitized voice exclaimed 'oh!' as if you were happily surprised to bump into an old friend you'd not seen in a while.  We got along like a house on fire with your gently coaxing 'you're doing great's and 'keep up the good work's.  I wanted so badly to please you.  To get that little dot representing my balance into the bullseye on the centre of the screen.  I tried to make our relationship work, Mr Wii.  Really I did.  But your 'keep up the good work's came a bit too infrequently for my taste and it soon became clear that you're too self-absorbed to let other people win.  Has anyone ever had perfect balance when they stand on you, Mr. Wii?  I didn't think so.

I thought I'd give you a couple months to cool off.  To realize what you were missing, so to speak.  Cause, like I said, we could really be great together.  I'm totally into working out in my underwear.  And you?  You, Mr. Wii, let that happen.

So, you're right.  You haven't seen me in a while.  Actually, you haven't seen me since January, but I still don't think that justifies the rather catty remarks you made when I turned you on. 

"Oh, I haven't seen you in a while.  I didn't recognize you!"  your narky digital voice said.

Well hardy har har har.

I really thought you'd be the tiniest bit more excited to see me now that I do show up. 


When I stepped on you yesterday, you groaned.


Groaned.

Like the massive weight standing on you was going to break you in half.  I jumped off quickly so as not to hurt your delicate plastic casing, but not before you had the audacity to inform me (in exceptionally large font) that:

• I've gained .6 kilos
• It had been 74 days since I last used you
• My Wii Fit age is 7 years older than my choronlogical age 

         and

• I have terrible balance

Now, I get that a .6 kilo weight gain isn't ideal.  But its really not the end of the universe as we know it, either.  It definitely didn't justify the attack that ensued.  You were all 'Now, let's talk about some of the reasons for your weight gain' and presented me with a list of possible answers like too many snacks and not enough exercise.  Next time you ask me something like that and I pick 'I don't know' just go with it, okay.   

"Are you sure you don't know" is totally not an appropriate response.

If "because its Easter and Cadbury is selling those fab white chocolate Easter Eggs for a limited time only PLUS a Subway just opened up right next door to my work" was a choice I would have picked that, okay.  But it wasn't.  So you got "I don't know".  Plus, my clothes were really heavy last night.  You didn't take that into consideration at all.

Regardless, a .6 kg weight gain over 74 days really doesn't make me look like a beached whale.  So why did you change my Mii to make it LOOK like a beached whale.  You made my Mii look all sad and dejected.  I'm not sad and dejected.  Don't  you go projecting your insecurities on me, Mr. Wii.  Give my my svelte, sexy Mii back asap.

This lady's Mii doesn't look nearly as beached as I did... and she weighs more!  WTF, Mr Wii?

FINALLY, what's this crap about me being 31 years old?  Frankly, I disagree.  I just had my 24th birthday, Mr. Wii, and I'm pretty sure my balancing abilities reflect that.  Its freakin hard to stand still and balance when you're trying not to giggle cause you've got two greyhounds sniffing your butt wondering what you're doing.  And you never let anybody win at the balancing thing anyway. 

Look!  You look happy that this guy is 38!  Why give me a walking stick when I'm 32!

I'll give you one more chance, Mr. Wii, but you're on notice.  Next time I turn you on you better be happy to see me.  I want my Mii to look like Heidi Klum (but I still totally want to be able to tell that its me).  And by god, I wanna be so young I get carded.  And get rejected cause the number on my card isn't old enough.

So there. 

All the Best,

Jess.