I’m usually a rational person; I try to understand the other side’s point of view. But I’m losing patience with Alitalia. And I’m not even the passenger on the plane. Rather, I’m the Mom.
My son Kevin was to have flown to Italy in May via Alitalia, but with a Delta imprimatur. Forget the imprimatur. It doesn’t mean anything. Kevin got to O’Hare on the appointed day, in the proscribed three hours early, and then waited an additional seven hours to board the plane. It eventually took off, but not without more delays. Kevin’s friend, who was taking a different flight that left after my son’s original departure, was at the gate in Rome to meet him.
Okay. Any airline can have a bad day.
Today my son was to fly home from Rome, arriving in Chicago at 1:30 PM local time. He said he’d call me. Four o’clock passed. Five o’clock went by. Even with the hour time change between Chicago and where we live, this didn’t equate.
So I found his flight information and checked in to see what happened. Surprise! Surprise! This time there was a ten hour delay in Rome, getting Kevin into O’Hare at 1:06 AM local time.
Do you know what it’s like to arrive at an airport in the dead of night? To clear customs when everybody, passengers and officials alike, are sleep deprived? To find lodging? In fact, to find a cab. It’s ugly.
My question is: What are the odds that one person taking flights a month apart experiences such horrendous delays? Apparently they’re pretty good if you’re flying Alitalia.
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