This is a story about the death of a relationship…with an airline. But it requires me to briefly include the death of my Mom – that’s what I called the grandma who raised me. On May 29, I phoned Mom and for the first time in my life she had no idea who I was. She’d broken her femur a couple of months earlier and medications were increasing her dementia. I called the next day and was relieved she knew who I was again. She asked when I was coming to see her. She was in an LA nursing home, I was in Denver.
This is a story about the death of a relationship…with an airline.
On Friday, May 31, I booked a flight for the earliest day I could get away from other commitments, June 22. My hope was to see Mom again while there was a chance she’d remember me. I never considered booking a compassion fare, because she wasn’t precisely dying. She was 88, so she might live for years or days. I chose United Airlines, because: 1) I’d been a frequent flyer with United for about 14 years, and racking up miles with them earned me occasional free flights, and 2) Denver is their hub, so their flights tend to be reasonably priced.