Why I Refused To Pay American Airlines' Baggage Fee - And Prevailed

I had just spent nine days backpacking with friends in the high Sierra, spending the most of that time well above 10,000' enjoying the world free of the complexities of modern civilization.

Then I arrived at Fresno Airport (FAT) to begin my trip back home only to reminded exactly how ugly air travel has become.

My ticket was issued by Delta Air Lines. I flew to Fresno on Delta operated flights via SLC. However, my return journey included a hop from FAT to LAX via a Delta codeshare flight operated by American Airlines' subsidiary, American Eagle. American has a new checked baggage fee policy, $15 for the 1^st bag, $25 for the 2^nd. Delta Air Lines on the other hand, does not charge for the first checked bag. Furthermore, they allow up to three free checked bags for their Medallion members, which I am.

I arrived at the American Airlines counter a full one hour and 45 minutes before my scheduled departure time. During my 30 minute wait in line, I glanced at the signs announcing their baggage fee (which were all over the place) and wondered if I was going to have to deal with this issue.

Surely enough when it was my turn at the ticket counter, upon declaring that I have two bags to check (each under the 50lb threshold) the agent wanted to collect $40. I pointed out that my ticket was issued by Delta Air Lines, and that I was booked on a Delta flight number (albeit code share), and not an American Airlines flight. I further explained that since my ticket was issued by Delta Air Lines, that their CONTRACT of CARRIAGE prevailed.

As you would expect, the ticket agent would hear none of it and just gave me a blank stare, asking for $40.

I pulled out my Passenger Receipt and and Itinerary issued by Delta and pointed out the following two paragraphs written on the back, under CONDITIONS OF CONTRACT:

“Delta Baggage Policy for Domestic and International Travel. [ ... ] Delta will accept of a maximum of one (1) checked bag free of charge for each ticketed passanger for Domestic travel within the U.S., Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico. [ ... ]”

...and...

“11. No agent, servant of representative of carrier has authority to alter, modify or waive any provision of this contract.”

Note: While the CONDITIONS OF CONTRACT clearly state one (1) bag free of charge for domestic travel, Delta's policy for Medallion members is three (3) free bags. I was willing to settle for one and pay $15 for the other had your agents been willing to follow the letter of this contract, understanding that the latter may be a priveledge that is not expressly extended in this agreement.

At this point the ticket agent barked “Sir, if you want to get on the flight, you will pay the fee.” She then tried to shove me asside to check in other passangers in-line, no doubt she would have ignored me until the flight left without me. I replied that I "do mind" stepping aside and will not do so until he checks me in. I also explained that her trying to charge me a fee that is expressly against the CONDITIONS OF CONTRACT that I held amounted to a breach of contract. As you may expect, airline ticket agents are clueless to this.

We even got her supervisor at the ticket counter involved. He was professional, checked some things on his computer, but was unrelenting. Pay or don't go.

I was having none of it.

I proceeded to call Delta Air Lines. I discussed the situation with the agent on the phone who brought in her supervisor. The Delta supervisor confirmed to me that American Airlines should not be charging me the baggage fee under the codeshare agreement and requested that I hand the phone over to the supervisor at the ticket counter in Fresno so that they could speak. At this point I had spent 27 minutes on the phone with Delta and had a mere few minutes left before American's "30 minute computer controlled check-in cut off".

Finally, after 10 minutes on my phone, out of view in the back office, the AA supervisor emerged and proceeded to check me in and to check my bags, without charge. He grumbled something about having to “send an email to corporate” but was otherwise professional. At this point however, there remained only 20 minuntes until scheduled departure time, well within their “30 minute computer controlled cut-off” as the signs at the counter clearly screamed. I was still at the ticket counter.

I hastilly took my now tagged bags to TSA screening, informed them of my impending departure and they graciously agreed to screen them next, ahead of the pile they already had. Fortunately there was no line at the TSA security check point. As I placed my items onto the X-ray machine, the PA system announced my name as being late for the flight, which was about to depart. When I finally managed to run up to the gate, the gate agent was just walking to the door to close out the flight. As I boarded the plane, I saw my bags on the conveyor being loaded into the cargo hold.

In summary, I arrived almost two hours in advance of the flight only to be endlessly hassled by ticket counter agents over a $40 “nickel and diming” procedure which I'm sure enfuriates every customer. Their ignorance of CONDITIONS OF CONTRACT and codeshare agreements is representative of poor training. I almost missed the flight and was frustrated and disgusted with the experience.

Given this experience, combined with American Airlines' policy for charging for checked luggage, I can be very definitive in stating that I will avoid American Airlines at all costs. I will not only ensure that I am never again placed in such a tenuous “code share” situation, but will also be sure to avoid purchasing any tickets on American Airlines directly. I further plan to publicize this situation to my corporate travel department, my friends, family and colleages, send copies of this letter the the media, and publicize on Internet discussion forums such as flyertalk.com, and of course here.

It was a very unpleasant way to end an otherwise fantastic vacation.

I have since then followed up with 10 letters of complaint to various departments and executives with American Airlines and American Eagle, 4 to Delta Air Lines, one to the Consumer Protection Division of the U.S. Department of Transportation and copies to the Wall Street Journal, New York Times and American Public Media's Marketplace.

The Salcantay Trek

Cerro Salcantay - 6271m / 20,574'

In May of 2005 Marjon and I set out to Peru. The primary objective of our trip was to visit Machu Picchu (although we saw a lot more). As typical for us, we tend to a fair amount of research in advance, but make only basic reservations and figure the rest out along the way. This worked fairly well for us when we arrived in Lima with only an onward flight to Cusco the next day, but no accommodations there and no onward reservations. We'd figure it out along the way.


Plaza des Armas - Cusco

We knew in advance that the Inka Trail now requires reservations which can only be booked through a trekking company (you can't trek it on your own, sadly). So we figured we'd arrange that when we arrived in Cusco. We had already planned to spend nearly a week in Cusco to acclimate to the 10,500'+ (3200m) elevation. So, we had plenty of time, or so we thought. We discovered the hard way that all spaces were booked for months in advance. We ran around to at least a dozen outfits, hoping someone might be able to arrange something. This is South America after-all, doesn't "no" just mean "You look like a gringo and we want you to pay more?" Not so.


Marjon at the Hotel Wiracocha in Cusco

All was not lost though, and in retrospect I'm actually glad it worked out this way. We had arrived with all of our backpacking gear, tent, sleeping bags, food for 5 days, all we needed was to purchase some fuel locally (very easy). I dreaded the idea of being hoarded along by some tour operator, along a crowded trail. Then there was the equipment question. These treks are all inclusive. They provide the gear and the porters to carry it. The benefit is that you can hike along carrying little more than a day pack in splendid comfort and have camp and dinner ready for you when you arrive at the end of each day. This all sounds good to most people. Personally, I don't like to rely on such outfits. I suspected their equipment would be cheap, and -- this being Peru -- their food likely unsafe to eat (poor sanitary conditions). But what to do? Should we then carry our own gear while we're along with a tour operator that provides everything for everyone else? Marjon was up for it. I'm glad that I never had to make this decision.

As we were looking for spaces for the Inka Trail, one of the tour operators suggested the Salcantay trek. It was relatively unknown at the time. Only a couple of operators seemed to be running tours though it. It's through the wilderness well southwest of Machu Picchu. It's not paved, no reservations or permits are required... and here's the best part: very few people go there. Perfect! We decided to go for it, on our own, no tour operators no crowds.

We had actually read in Lonely Planet about a similar trek that also starts from the town of Mollepata, but then crosses on the eastern side of Cerro Salcantay and into fairly dry territory where there are a few small ruins. So we already had an idea of where to start, and the suggestion from that description to hire an arriero in Mollepata. However, we didn't really have any good description of the route, nor any topographical maps of that area. I had my GPS, but it was only loaded with the Garmin Worldmap which is very basic and wouldn't even get us to Mollepata let alone be useful for navigation along the trek (now I would have checked the free GPS MapCenter2). None of the local shops or outfitters in Cusco had any maps suitable for navigation. The answer was South American Explorers in Cusco. There we purchased the 1:100,000 map of the "Machupicchu" sector published by the Instituto Gragrafico Nacional (IGN) in Lima. The title is somewhat misleading as it doesn't actually cover all of Machu Picchu, but it does cover the entire trek from just north of Mollepata to Santa Teresa.


Map of Salcantay Trek with GPS tracks from MapSource (full size)

Our plan was to get to Mollepata and hire an arriero to carry our gear to Santa Teresa. The trek passes over a 15,000' (4578m) pass just below Cerro Salcantay (6271m / 20,574'). We knew that weren't in shape enough, nor acclimated to carry our 50lb packs over that. The only public transportation from Cusco to Mollepata is a colectivo that runs daily at 06:30, the location of its origin was described vaguely and its regularity was in question. By chance we discussed this with the owner at the Hotel Wiracocha where we were staying. He recommended taking a taxi. It would be approximately a two hour ride and would cost about $22! Marjon and I looked at each other in disbelief, at first thinking that was so much more expensive than the $1 or $2 each that the colectivo would cost. Suddenly the reality of speed, comfort, assured transportation and flexible departure time struck us. "We'll take it!"


Views along the route from Cusco to Mollepata

Mollepata (elev. 9,456' / 2882m) is a very small town situated up on a hilltop at the bottom of the Rio Blanco Valley. A tiny dirt road winds serpentine up a dry mountain for many miles before reaching a town that appears completely isolated. We found a small hotel where we got a room with two beds, access to external hot showers and breakfast. All for $5 each. Given how tourism has been growing recently, especially due to overflow from the Inka Trail, this town will likely not last this way for long. However, it was an incredibly beautiful quaint, quiet little town when we were there in May of 2005.


Marjon With The Owner of the Hotel in Mollepata

While the hotel owner's son prepares us dinner, we discusse our plans with the owner and ask if he knows of a good arriero. "Sure, my brother is an arriero, I will get him." A few minutes later, Neptali Estrada Perez appears before us. A man in his late 40s, wide jaw with brimming mustache and a welcoming smile, Neptali strikes me as a seasoned man with good balance and a sense of humor. I instantly like him. We discuss our plans, Marjon conducts a bit of negotiation (he insists on bringing two animals), we settle on a price and agree to meet at 8am the next day for the start.

Neptali has done this route many times. His value becomes evident the minute we leave town. He takes us through a labyrinth or trails and zigzag paths that we would not likely have discovered ourselves. He knows this trail well, he's done it many times. As it would come out later, he's not just our arriero, but considers himself our guide.


Marjon with Neptali (our arriero) two hours out of Mollepata
with Cerro Salcantay visible in the background.

The road winds steadily up on a hill above the west bank of the Rio Blanco towards Salcantay. By the time we reach our intended camp at the Soraypampa meadow we have traveled 12.1 miles and gained 3,135' (955m) in elevation. Soraypampa is a big meadow with a beautiful view of Cerro Salcantay. It's green with lots of water flowing, a few cattle grazing, and a couple of dirt huts at its edges.

Water is plentiful but we're well aware that it contains at least Giardia and probably many other bacteria. I find a good flow of water, filter it with my MSR Miniworks, and then add a few drops of chlorine and let it sit. So we treated all of our water while backpacking in Peru.

Just as I'm walking back to our camp, a tour group with about a dozen trekkers begins arriving and makes camp nearby. Given how large Soraypampa is, we don't really feel crowded.

We pitch our tent, eat some dinner and Neptali announces that he's off to see if he can find a place to sleep in one of the huts. They're homes of the peasants there, but they usually rent out a small space for arrieros for a few pesos. After we've settled into our tent, Neptali returns to announce that the place is full of "pulgas" (roaches) and he won't sleep there. He asks if we have room in our tent. That's a rather silly question given that our tent doesn't look like it will fit two from the outside, and certainly not three. However, I brought along a rain tarp just in case we had to deal with inclement weather and I offer to make a small shelter using two trekking poles to prop up the ends. He seems very happy with that and so we go back to sleep.


Our Camp at Soraypampa. Neptali Slept Under The Tarp.

We awaken to a fantastically beautiful morning at 12,591' (3873m). Marjon has a bit of a headache, probably from the elevation. We pack up and begin our trek to Cerro Salcantay. Neptali knows the way. The views are breathtaking. Salcantay has a few clouds shrouding some of the view, but not enough to hide her completely. The valley is lush green and the scale of everything is very impressive.

We pose for a few pictures and let the animals get some water before beginning the really steep climb up to the 15,000' pass.


Cerro Salcantay

The climb up over 15,000' feet is grueling. As I get over 14,000' I can barely take three steps before I need to catch my breath. I'm wearing only a light trekking t-shirt and shorts. My pack and everything else is mounted on the horse. Marjon decided to ride the mule. She's doing even worse than I am. The air is thin. She's getting a migraine and can hardly think. Sure signs of elevation sickness. But we press on, knowing that we will quickly descend down the other side and not expose her to this for too long. I begin to feel cold. As I approach the top of the pass, warm humid air from the high jungle on the other side blows over, quickly cools and saps all of my energy. I decide to put on a jacket. Suddenly I feel better and can continue. It's a struggle just to put one foot in front of the other. Finally, we reach the pass.


Me At The Pass (4,630m /15,200 feet) below Salcantay

After a short break we begin to descend down the other side into the high jungle. The vegetation is lush. The air warmer and moist. The valleys surreal in their beauty.


The Mist of the Jungle - descending to Huamantay

After another break for water and then lunch, we arrive at what is the most beautiful alpine meadow and valley I have ever seen. Completely unspoiled by people. Though there are a couple of small huts and what appear to be some subsistence peasants with goats and horses, this all blends in perfectly with the environment. Nothing seems out of place, and it looks like it has been this way for centuries. Time appears to have left this place alone.


Marjon arriving at Huamantay

I am convinced that this is where I'd like to make camp. The beauty is breathtaking. However, Neptali is adamant that we must continue onward. That we will not have enough time to finish the trek otherwise. Not having really calculated the distances myself I go along, reluctantly, regretting it as we descend into the jungle. In retrospect I would have preferred to spend an extra day on the trek and camp here. If you do this trek, I highly recommend it. It is the most beautiful place along this entire trek, in my opinion.

As we descend down into the jungle, a couple of guys from the other group with the tour operator catch up to us and ask if they can borrow our mule because one of their women has developed some sort of digestive illness and can barely walk (poor sanitary conditions by the cooks, as I suspected). They are from Isreal, with their heavy accents and not much on charm. Their tour operator appears to have nothing for them, unprepared for such an event. However, their need is real and even though Marjon was slightly limping on a swollen ankle, she agrees to let them use our mule, saying it'll probably be good for her to walk a bit, downhill now. Neptali is insistent that we charge them something. I recognize their desperation and the fact that we're in the wilderness of the high Andes and decide that the higher rules of the mountains apply, you give assistance to those who need it here. We let her ride on the mule, no charge. They are very grateful, and their mood improves.

After several hours of downhill on a steep muddy trail, we arrive at camp just at dusk. It's a small open clearing in the jungle. Crowded with lots of tents and tours at this point. It's exactly the kind of place I wanted to avoid, and I still wish we had stayed at Humantay. We make camp. Neptali recommends we offer a few pesos for the use of the land to the owners in the small hut, so we do. As we unpack our gear, pitch our tent, set up our tiny "pocket rocket" butane stove we notice the porters and guides from the other tours watching us. Later, Neptali tells us very proudly that they've never seen anyone with such "sophisticated gear" go it alone here. They're fascinated. He's proud to have such clients. We think it's charming, but we're tired and just want to go to bed.


Me at Our Camp on Day 2 - Totorayoc

The next day is a long trek down along the Rio Santa Teresa. We're in the jungle. It's warm, there a mosquitos and other bugs now, but not enough to bother me. The terrain is not as interesting as higher up in the mountains, but we do spot the occasional hut or small hand farming area up high on the mountain slopes. After a few hours we arrive at what appears to be a small snack bar. Made out of wood, and selling bags of 10 Pomegranates for a few pesos. These things are growing all over the place, but at the price it's not even worth picking them yourself. We go through 3 or 4 bags of these fantastically ripe and sweet fruit. They were simply amazing.

Another two or three hours of trekking downhill and we arrive at a horribly ugly little settlement called La Playa. It's quite a stark contrast from the natural beauty of the past three days. Trash is littered all over the place and there are only some makeshift sheds around. Nobody seems to care about how this place looks. Neptali informs us that this is the end of our trek. There is a road that leads from here to Santa Teresa, the town along the Rio Urubamba which leads to Machu Picchu. We can walk it in about three and a half hours or pay a few pesos to go in a colectivo.


Saying Goodbye to Neptali at La Playa

We pay Neptali for his three days of excellent service, and I give him the topographical map of the area that I had bought in Cusco as a gift. I'm not really sure he knows how to read such a map (nor does he need it) but he accepts it with great pride. I suspect it will be a personal treasure to him rather than of actual use. We say goodbye and the minute he leaves we instantly miss him. He was an excellent guide, a good friend, and not to mention arriero.

We wait in La Playa for what seems like eternity for the colectivo. Finally, after the drivers have a leisurely lunch they start loading up. In a small Toyota 4x4 van, which seems not much larger than a typical suburban minivan they manage to pack 15 people and all of their backpacks on the roof and set out down the steep, pothole laden dirt road to Santa Teresa.

Santa Teresa used to be a nice town. However, a severe flood on the Urubamba river wiped out most of the town which sat too close and too low to the river. The flood also wiped out the railroad that came from Aguas Caliente (Machu Picchu) and the bridge across the Rio Urubamba. Thus the town was cut off from the rest of Peru. What remains now is an ugly shanty town with muddy streets, all built high up above the original town. We were advised to camp on the soccer field with the rest of the tour groups. A rather anticlimactic end to our journey, but not all bad. We met several of the other trekkers, including the Israelis who said the girl was feeling much better. We found a hot shower in a shack a few blocks away and were advised to keep all of our packs inside our tent overnight due to the possibility of theft. That turned out to make for a rather cramped two person tent.


View from Our Tent in Santa Teresa

Since the railroad and bridge were washed out, the only way to Machu Picchu is to cross a Tyrolean bridge across the raging Urubamba river, hike a couple of miles to a point where a truck picks everyone up and takes them to the hydro electric plant a few miles up river, the new terminus of the train from Augas Caliente.


Crossing the Rio Urubamba in Santa Teresa

So we proceeded with the rest of the tour groups. We crossed the bridge, walked the mile on sand, and rode the truck to "Hydroelectrico" to wait for the train.


Marjon Riding the Truck from Santa Teresa to Hydroelectrico

And in Hydroelectro we wait.

For the train.

Nobody seems to know when the train to Machu Picchu arrives or departs.

Finding out where to purchase tickets is even a mystery.

We feed a skinny injured cat some leftovers from our tuna pouch.

We wait.

Eventually, the train comes.


Waiting for the Train to Machu Picchu

Hydroelectrico is just that. A hyrdo electric station that takes advantage of the sharp decline in the elevation of the Rio Urubamba between the east and west sides of Machu Picchu. They've actually drilled a long hole under Machu Picchu and use the pressure of the water to generate electricity. Little of this is actually evident there, except for the few guards and fences that make sure you don't get too close. However, this is also now the terminus of the tracks to Aguas Caliente.


The Backside of Machu Picchu

In the end the train came and we got to Aguas Caliente and had a fantastic time visiting Machu Picchu.

Photos from our entire trip to Peru are available in my Peru 2005 set on Flickr.

Reference Info

Location of Salcantay Trek in Peru (full size)


Satellite Image of Salcantay Trek (full size)
(yellow is train route between Aguas Caliente and Cusco)

You can download my GPS data from the Salcantay Trek on my Maps download page as either a GPX file or Google Earth KMZ file.

Do I Travel Too Much?

A recent thread in the Atlanta Photographers Guild group on Flickr got me thinking about how many of the photos that I actually take do I post on Flickr.

So I decided to run some numbers.

Here is an analysis of my major recent trips since last summer:

Europe, July 2007 - 1531 photos, 217 on flickr = 14.1%
The Palisades, August 2007 - 931 photos, 127 on flickr = 13.6%
Netherlands, August 2007 - 581 photos, 179 on flickr = 30%
London, November 2007 - 151 photos, 42 on flickr = 27.8%
Warsaw, November 2007 - 194 photos, 30 on flickr = 15.4%

Sierra, October 2007 - 741 photos, 47 on flickr = 6.2%
Patagonia, December 2007 - 2517 photos, 144 on flickr = 5.9%
PMA & Death Valley, Feb 2008 - 413 photos, 10 on flickr = 2.4%

I believe the numbers for the first 5 trips are misleading, because I've already deleted a lot of rejects, so I was only able to count the images left. For the last 3 trips, I haven't rejected anything yet, so I believe those percentages are more accurate.

These figures also do not include photos that get deleted during the trip and thus never get counted.

What are your percentages?

The Final Hour

At first I thought that my quest to get to Racetrack Playa in time to photograph the moving rocks in the golden light before sunset had failed.

In about five hours of driving to get here, I had managed to get a flat tire and then waste time walking around the wrong end of the dry lakebed searching for these rocks and tracks in vain, thinking the sun had already set.

Just as I was about to give up, I thought I'd drive to the south end and see what's there. As I approached I saw another SUV parked and what appeared to be people in the distance. Suddenly the meaning of the word "Playa" hit me and I realized that walking around the middle of a lake, you do not find a "Playa"!

What's more, whereas I thought I had lost the sun behind the mountains, it turns out that at the point where these rocks are there's actually a gap between the mountains. Not only does this gap allow the sun to shine longer than the northern end of the lake (excellent luck for me), but I believe it also contributes to the explanation behind how these rocks move.

In my hypothesis, this low gap in the mountains on the west side of the lake allows for the wind to rush through with great force. The mountains on the southern and southeastern side of the lake form a curve to the north that these winds can bend around and continue to blow at great speed. This, I believe is the force behind the motion.

The second part of the hypothesis is lubrication. Having stepped in a bit of a wet area on the western side of the lake, I noticed how incredibly soft and slippery it was. When this very porous surface receives just a slight bit of moisture, I believe the entire surface of the lakebed becomes incredibly slippery, thus allowing the force of the wind (mentioned above) to ever so slightly and gently push these rocks.

Finally, the bend of the eastern mountains to the north creates a kind of a "wind bowl" where the wind can swirl around, thus perhaps explaining why not all of the rocks move in the same direction (over time).

Special thanks to G. Dan Mitchell for posting this photo that first got my attention and his subsequent advice on getting here.

A truly magical place.

Racetrack Playa
Death Valley [National Park]
California

Where Are They

Having just fixed a flat in the middle of Death Valley on a long stretch of unpaved road, I decided to continue the remaining 7 miles, now without a spare.

By my calculations, I had given myself plenty of time to get here in time for the hour before sunset. In fact, I was worried that I would have too much time here and might even take a nap.

But now I'm here. 16:07 PST.
Where's the sun?

"Have I missed the sunset?"

"Where are the rocks and the tracks?!"

I walk around the nothern end of the dry lake bed, wondering where all of the rocks are, and still rather perplexed that somehow I hadn't considered the possibility that there would be a sizeable mountain to the west of the lake bed that the sun would go down over a good two hours before actual sunset!

"Did I really just spend nearly 5 hours to drive over 200 miles and miss it all?"

The Middle Of Nowhere

Let's put this in perspective...

To get to this point I had already driven almost 200 miles from Las Vegas to Ubehebe Crater in Death Valley. The last 20 miles were on gravel washboard.

While the road as you can see isn't necessarily all that challenging, it is evident from this photo that there is at least one hazard.

Had I taken the advice of G. Dan Mitchell, I would have still been about 10 miles back, but with a fully inflated tire.

Not me.

No patiance.

40mph, even a peak of 50 mph on a few long flat stretches. This Toyota Rav 4 seemed to be doing just ifne.

Then a curve. A bit of a drift... overcompensation... and "BAM!" accompanied by an instantaneous "BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!" in the cockpit (flat tire sensor alarm).

Suddenly the toughts go through my mind:

"You idiot!"
"Crap!"
"I hope there's a spare..."
"I hope it's not a doughnut"
"I hope it's inflated."

I'm 20 miles from the nearest paved road, which is then over 50 miles from the nearest town.

I am in the middle of Death Valley.

I am literally IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE (map). With a flat.

I had anticipated the possibility that I might get suck. The low temperature at night was forecast for 25F. I was prepared (down jacket, hat, gloves, etc).

I changed the tire.

I had another 7 miles to go to get to Racetrack Playa.

Now what?

Do I continue?

With no spare?