Excess Baggage

I'm glad United Airlines has been working hard to rectify its image issues. I can once again approach my gate confident I won't be forcibly dragged out of my seat -- not only because of the bad optics but because nobody of any consequence would be willing to sit in the middle seat in Row 26.

It's the latest idea in airport indignity -- if you search on line for the cheapest ticket, you had better read the fine print. The print is so fine, in fact, that United takes it upon itself to cover its aft section and send you several emails after your purchase is completed, "reminding" you, in case you missed it, that you must pretty much board without carrying anything more than a change of underwear and a lipstick.

I fear we are only a year or two away from seats on the wing unless you pay a surcharge. I decided this made no sense (what does, these days?) and I also decided that a purse and a tiny bag that, together, would fit under the seat in front of me, would be acceptable, since I wouldn't presumably complying with the spirit of the new rule, not taking up valuable overhead bin space. I'm a short Jewish woman; diminished leg room is a small price to pay.

Apparently, though, this has nothing to do with spirit; it's about zero tolerance (and, I suspect, a bit of humiliation for the basic economy folks now relegated to the airborne equivalent of steerage, forced to sport a scarlet "Group 5." The moment I clicked on the "no bags to check" option on my laptop, I got the message in red (albeit tiny) print. I  would have to actually interact with a United ticket agent if I thought I was going to sneak through with some extra stuff. Seriously. The self service ticket dispensing machine at the airport was equally vigilant. I, along with several fellow passengers, awaited assistance from the one agent unlucky enough to be spending the day responding to bright yellow alerts on the self service screens.

Damn it. He was well trained. He knew immediately the pale green straps from my backpack were not decorative edging on my white sleeveless blouse. You'll have to check one of those bags, he told me, unable to deny that the two of them would easily fit under the seat in front of me, with extra room for a small child. He reminded me of the seventeen post -purchase emails I received informing me of the new indignity I mean rule. Shame, shame.

I assured him I could combine them -- knowing full well I couldn't -- but he let it slide. He warned me about how serious they would be about all this at the gate. I took my chances. The guy at the gate barely glanced at my ticket, much less my bizarre attempt to fit a large square purse in a small round tote.

Crazy world.