Continental Airlines, this is a love letter to you.
Because I am my mother's daughter, I got to the airport very early. Because I am my sister's sister, I was munching on a lobster roll when my flight was announced to have been delayed so long that I was sure to miss my connection.
And because I am me, I came up to the counter burning with the fires of an unholy vengeance, to be released upon the first person that told me, firmly, that I was not going to go to Spain tonight. Do not mess with me at the airport. I am like the Fury Alecto, only worse.
Anywho, unlike Alecto, I am placable, and while I was preparing to open up a can on everyone in the organization which had unreasonably stranded me in the US, the woman at the ticket counter discovered that someone, proactively, had put me on a different, better flight, which got into Valencia earlier.
Read that again. I had to do exactly nothing but give the woman who helped me a verbal hug and finish my lobster roll (now supplemented by a nice glass of a minerally Oregon white). And I got a better flight out of it and free internet from the President's Club.
Read it and weep, people: Continental Airlines is the one airline without its head up its *ss. Fly preferetially from now on.
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