Done For in Dubai or How to Get Your Flight Changed in Ten Easy Steps

DUBAI, United Arab Emirates -- You arrive from Cairo on a decidedly cramped Boeing 777-200 with seats designed to emulate straightjackets without all the messy straps. You’ve learned how to manipulate cutlery without moving your elbows or invading the airspace of the adjacent seat and causing an international incident.

You decide you’d rather alter your flight schedule and go home than spend a minute more than necessary in Dubai. However, you have a problem: your luggage is tagged to Dubai and you don’t want to get a visa to collect your luggage and walk into the Departures Terminal. Fear not, for an elegant brute-force solution has been discovered to this most vexing of dilemmas.

Research conducted in the wee hours of the morning under cranky, sleep-deprived conditions now reveals an easy ten-step solution:

1. Your aircraft will land at Dubai International and park at the outermost parking bay known to humankind. You take the proffered bus to the Arrivals Terminal, avoiding other vehicular traffic including, but not limited to commercial aircraft deciding to move from point A to point B in the dead of the night. Your bus journey will require thirty minutes with frequent stops for the aforementioned commercial aircraft, during which you will be educated on the difference between the Transit and Arrivals Terminals by a perky, recorded message. You feel like sticking a cactus in the announcer’s ass.


2. You disembark at the Arrivals Terminal. You then walk over to the enquiries counter and after exchanging pleasantries, ask of the possiblily to travel on an earlier flight subject to the availability of seats. The clownette-in-session peers into the dark depths of the information system and reveals that seats are indeed, miraculously available. However, the clownette declines to action the request indicating that this can only be done at the all-powerful Transfer Desk B in the Departures Terminal. Said terminal can only be accessed after a perilous altercation with airport security who believe that suspicious materials are embedded in your shoes and insist on X-raying them. Having found nothing, they reluctantly let you pass. You must then take the tunnel to cross the tarmac and arrive at the Departures Terminal.


3. You locate Transfer Desk B, which is located inside Gate 18. You are attempting to access said Transfer Desk in a non-standard fashion and must travel in the reverse direction through security. Strangely, this is allowed.


4. You walk over to an operational counter and stand in line. After many moons, the clown-in-session indicates that you should move to another counter as it is dealing with a difficult request. This process may be proven to be iterative.


5. Having finally reached a counter, you hand over documents and explain your requirement to the clown-in-session (i.e., you wish to travel on an earlier flight). You are met with a blank expression and asked if you have a booking on said earlier flight. You remind yourself that this is why you’re here in the first place and stay calm. The clown-in-session proceeds to tell you to go to “the counter over there” and first obtain a booking on the required flight and then return to its counter.


6. You walk to the counter labelled Commercial and stand in line. A passenger with non-standard requirements hogs the counter for several seasons. Meanwhile, incoming passengers from other flights will flood all operational counters. A group of Hungarians with little knowledge of English attempt to jump your queue. You point them to the right counter using wild, animated gestures. A Sikh gentleman attempting to get to New Delhi due to a death in the family stands behind you and queries what is taking so long, asking if the counter operator is sleeping. You attempt to placate the gentleman. The hog finally leaves having been serviced. You ask the clown-in-session to book you on the next flight home. It punches random symbols on its keyboard, nods wisely and hands back your ticket.


7. You return to stand in line at the previous counter. Queues have lengthened. On finally reaching the counter you inform the clown that you have returned after having obtained a booking for your new flight. The clown peers into its terminal and presses arcane symbols on its keyboard. You wait. More peering and symbol pressing. The clown tells you it can’t find your booking. It then asks you to wait, takes your ticket and goes into the nearby office. You wait. The clown returns. It still can’t find the booking. It obtains the assistance of the clown operating the counter to it’s right. Together, both clowns search for your booking, which decides to continue absconding. They finally tell you that you are not on that flight and must go to the Commercial counter again and ask for a printout of the booking reference. You roll your eyes and express annoyance. They placate you by telling you that you don’t need to stand in line the next time around.


8. You return to the Commercial Counter and wait your turn. You tell the clown-in-session that the clowns at the other counters can’t find the booking and ask for a printout. It rolls its eyes and punches random symbols into its terminal. A printout mysteriously emerges with a booking reference number.


9. You return to the previous counter and bypass the queue. An angry French-Canadian is at the counter demanding a flight to London so that he can meet his connection to Montreal. You wait and make sighing noises and chat up the French-Canadian, who’s just arrived from Vietnam. His sole felony appears to have been to travel a day earlier, resulting in all forward bookings being cancelled as he was a no-show for his original flight. He tells you what he thinks of the airline in language peppered with colorful expletives. The clown-in-session vanishes in the meantime. You wait, discussing airlines with the French-Canadian. The clown-in-session materialises and informs the French-Canadian that he is on standby for a flight to London. The French-Canadian obtains his boarding pass and sprints to the gate.


10. You hand-over the booking reference printout smugly to the clown-in-session. It peers into its terminal and tells you that your flight doesn’t have seats and you will be a standby passenger. You express grave annoyance and tell the clown that there were seats an hour back. It then looks at the booking reference printout and punches into its keyboard as you fume. It transpires that it was looking at the wrong flight. Your baggage claim tags are forwarded to Colombo and you are finally issued your boarding card and asked to have a pleasant flight. At this point, you don’t care if your luggage ends up in Reykjavík. You do the 100-meter dash to the gate, bumping into security who continue to have a strange fascination in your shoes.

It appears that a process consultant from Hell designed this workflow. This is customer service at its very best. Prepare to spend two hours of your life to work out this solution. The moral of this story is to avoid Dubai and fly Carrier Pigeon Airlines next time.