Union Jane wears a "the end is near!" sandwich board [part two]

Editor's note: Hark! Rejoice! This is the second half of another hilarious and enlightening post from No Ordinary Rollercoaster prophet and U.K. correspondent, Union Jane.

Did you miss part one?

The last time I flew to Canada I was preposterously hungover. Like, curl up in the fetal position, stare-at-the-wing-so-I-don't-get-the-spins, count-down-the-seconds-till-we-land-oh-my-god-it's-still-another-five-hours hungover. Drinking till 3 am the night before a six-hour flight seemed like a good idea at the time. Alas, I still have a lot to learn about restraint. But needless to say, the last thing I wanted to do was watch Ice Age for the 12th time over shitty, ear-pinching headphones while at 39,000 feet.

So I was kind of delighted when the Captain apologized at the beginning of the flight for the lack of television. Part of that delight could have been attributed to the fact that I get weak in the knees at the sound of an Air Canada pilot's voice, but that's a whole other complex. He explained that the entertainment system had stopped working, but rather than delay that flight four hours waiting for a new plane, they decided to just go without it. Aside from the fact that I was a little uneasy flying over the Atlantic with a plane that had any sort of malfunctioning equipment, I thought this was completely reasonable. I also appreciated the airline's recognition of the fact that people would much rather just get where they're going.

No one seemed bothered by the lack of B-list movies. I didn't hear one complaint or whining child. To be honest, the flight was pretty unmemorable. If I weren't so nauseous and woozy, I might even dare to say it was pleasant. But just as we landed, the Captain's smooth voice flowed from the intercom again. I swooned to attention. He explained that as an apology for the lack of entertainment on board, we could all pick up vouchers upon deplaning for 3,000 Aeroplan points.

Now, I don't know how many of you are acquainted with the Aeroplan system, but as a victim of a bicoastal family, I've been an avid points-collector since the tender age of seven. And how much is 3,000 points worth, you ask? Well, let me put it this way – that flight which I bought for about $800 normally earns me less than 3,000. So you can imagine my pleasant astonishment to receive the extra points for missing something I never wanted in the first place.

We were told as long as we filled in our Aeroplan number on the voucher and mailed it to Air Canada headquarters within a month of the flight, we'd be credited the points. This seemed easy enough, but I – a procrastinator to my very core; seriously, I didn't hit puberty until the deadline was way gone – couldn't seem to get around to it during my visit home. Once again, I blame liquor. So it wasn't until I was back in the UK that I realized I hadn't mailed it. I cringed at the loss. But despite knowing there was no way the letter would get there on time, I tossed it in the post just to give myself peace of mind, and promptly forgot about the whole thing.

About a month later, I checked my Aeroplan balance online. I was astonished to learn that, despite my excessive tardiness, I had been credited the points. This was hilarious to me, because the date they were deposited in my account was long passed the deadline. And on top of all that, I wasn't given 3,000 points as the voucher had promised. I was given 4,000. Completely inexplicably.

And it's not like Air Canada is known for saving the day. Having recently moved to a market where you can get flights from London to Spain for the equivalent of $20 when the Canadian conglomerate charges up to $600 for a quick jaunt from Halifax to Montreal has taught me to resent Air Canada's monopolyptic robbery in a way I never thought I could. And, once again, I don't know how many of you are used to dealing with Aeroplan, but let me tell you – their representatives are hardly customer service darlings. The type of company that charges you $10 per phone call, they are very French and very full of themselves. I dread dealing with them.

Yet here I am, proclaiming the bastards for going above and beyond for their customers.

That's right. Aeroplan and Air Canada gave me near the equivalent of a free short-haul flight because their TVs weren't working. Even though I didn't really follow the terms of the reimbursement. Yet Zara Home stopped just short of calling Interpol because I was exchanging a 12-pound defective mirror. With the receipt.

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Like I said – Bizarro World is upon us. I hope I don't get shit on by the flying pigs. I also hope the Wizard sounds like that Air Canada pilot. That might be my only salvation from the leggings-as-pants plague.

Related:

Union Jane goes on a date

Union Jane is lost in translation

Union Jane puts The Chronicle Herald in its place

Union Jane on "ginger kids"