Almaty Again

DC (IAD) – Frankfurt (FRA) – Almaty (ALA)

This was never going to be fun. And of course I find someone else to blame. The US State Department is supposed to be reimbursing my travel cost for the first assignment of this trip (after the nth 'blood, sweat and tears' speech of my boss in relation to the constant budget cuts at the Bank, basically all our long-distance missions are now 'back-to-back' missions of two or more assignments stitched together). But involvement of additional agencies of course involves additional policies (if international agencies with supposedly dovetailing objectives have a hard time working together, I'm beginning to suspect much of this isn't due to 'turf wars', but due to a desire of the players doing the actual work – rather than designing the policies – to stay sane). In this case, it's the US travel policy. Sigh.

I'm cool with their idea of reducing travel cost by authorizing economy class only, even if I'm at best lukewarm about putting it into practice myself. I'll be arriving at local midnight, after 24 hours in planes, and supposed to start working the next morning … really? Of course, I am told, I can always fly in a day earlier so I can have a day to recover. Oh, sure. Rather than spend *most* of the Easter weekend away from my wife, I can elect to spend *all* of it away from her. I thought we'd gotten over such naked 'sacrifice your health and/or your family on the altar of business or you don't have what it takes because we don't want emotionally literate employees' and progressed to at least a passing nod towards allowing work and families to co-exist. But with hard times the fig leaves come off and really all we've done is also give women the opportunity to sacrifice family time on the same altar. Not that we'll accord them equal rewards for doing so, but we can pretend, can't we?

An idea of theirs I'm decidedly uncool with is the 'Fly America Act'. It states that if the US government pays for the flight, it must be on a US carrier (at least if one leg of the flight is in the US). So even if other carriers offer the same service more efficiently, the (supposedly small) government remains intent on spending tax money propping up inefficient local conglomerates that have many of their tax returns filed under chapter 11. How come it's only when other governments do this that it's a state subsidy that interferes with the market? There was a time when I was impressed with the US' willingness and ability to practice what it preached, before its preachings grew so strident.

What I was never impressed with is United Airlines. I've mostly been able to avoid them since they ceased being the World Bank's 'preferred carrier', as Lufthansa (and others) provides not just better service, but also at lower rates. But as I once again line up behind the stupid computer screens that are supposed to handle me and get me a boarding pass etc., I am reminded again of my boss' oft-heard French-accented complaint “I 'ate United!”. Tempting me every time to asinine responses like “Wow, you must 'ave been 'ungry”, though I've mostly kept my mouth shut.

As I do now, once again – with simulated patience – standing in a queue. I'm assuming that the number of computer screens available for checking in is supposed to make things faster, or at least do it with fewer humans that might require being paid, or even health insurance or form unions. The funny thing is that this does not seem to be the case. They still require someone to tag the baggage and put it on the conveyor belt, persons to answer questions that the machines are not equipped to address, and of course someone to help out in case the machine can't cope. As is the case with mine – after scanning my passport, it first asks me to put in several letters of my name, then the first three letters of my destination city and then asks me if I want to go to Almeria or Almaty … (it's got access to the e-tickets that were issued against which it can check the info from my passport, for crying out loud!). Then it asks me whether I'll be travelling with an infant on my lap (I sure hope not!), and then informs me with a bright, friendly exclamation mark that I will need assistance from a human to complete my request. Not that I've actually requested anything, except insofar as my showing up at the check-in desk represents an implicit request for them to make good on their promise of transporting me to Frankfurt, for which they have already been paid.

There is only one person who can help with this sort of thing, who's supposed to be a free agent roaming in front of the screens (apparently everyone else is required to stay behind the counters on penalty of something nasty). So there is a small group of what I assume could be baggage-handlers hanging around doing nothing much at all, while the one trouble-shooter is busy helping … pretty much everyone, really. In my case (as I am told about ten minutes later, during which the screen has twice asked me whether I want to continue with this) he needs to check my visa for Kazakhstan. What's laughable about this is that they've barely reduced the amount of people required, while turning a short interaction with humans (who score pretty high on ability to infer the value of questions regarding infants from their presence – or lack thereof), peppered with 'Oh, Almaty, that should be interesting', 'too bad you have to fly on Easter, but at least the flights shouldn't be crowded' and 'have a nice day' into an exercise that foreshadows the imminent descent into a dystopian vision somewhere between Orwell and Kafka.

Oh, and sure they'll upgrade me, for the paltry sum of 579 USD of my own money. I mean, really? I've been upgraded from Business to First Class several times (without asking for it), which was a nice touch but really no more than that, while this would be a life-saver by comparison. Apparently to those who have shall be given.

Now apparently I *could* have flown Business, the State Department simply would not have reimbursed the entire fare. But I would still have had to fly a US carrier, which would still have increased the difference my own unit would have had to stump up. But I realized that too late and thus, I guess, should blame myself for not getting any proper sleep during the (short) night on the flight. But at least AmEx got me one of those seats without a seat in front of it, so at least I can stretch my legs. The seat doesn't recline very far, though, so I'm stiff-necked and slightly grumpy as we arrive in Frankfurt a few hours later. Mostly at finding that I'm clearly not twenty anymore... and maybe a little at United's sorry excuse for coffee. Blech.

FRA is the same as usual. I've heard people complain about it, but I'm used to it by now. My attempts to throw myself at the mercy of the check-in personnel with my best doe-eyed look are stonewalled by pointing out 'policy', much as they were in DC. I'm miffed as I head to the lounge (access to which is apparently the extent to which my vaunted 'Senator' status accords me special treatment). As I board the plane, they do exchange my boarding pass for another one, although the new one also reads 'Economy'. But I'm told they moved me to a row without someone sitting next to me. Slightly pacified, I board and we go on to Almaty.