We Are Doomed

Millenials. I don't know where to begin. Let's start with the young lady who put her cell phone number on her business card but didn't bother to set up her voicemail box. When you call her, you get a recording that lets you know the voicemail box isn't set up and goodbye. Perhaps she thought people would only text her when they wanted to place an order. We are doomed.

Or how about the young man who took nearly 15 minutes to enter an order and print it off for me. He stuffed my receipt in a little folder along with my credit card receipt. Everything he told me about the delivery process is proving to be wrong. And I've discovered that I have a receipt for a fireplace insert, not a casual dining set and it will be delivered to someone named Maria at a completely different address. I wonder if Maria has the copy of my invoice. We are doomed.

Here's my favorite - I was overcharged at Walgreen's. I bought two items, both under ten dollars and my total came out to $25. How could that be? I didn't leave the register, I just stepped to the side to review my receipt and told the cashier that one of the items rang up as $13.99 but it was actually $8.99. She called for someone to go check it and it was confirmed that it should have been $8.99. My goodness, they were going to have to process a refund! The technology of the cash register wasn't helping them. Both the original cashier and the price check guy were working on it. It was trying to tell them that the items were purchased in a different store. He asked me when I purchased it. "A few minutes ago." The female cashier confirmed that. They both kept asking me if I just wanted to return the stuff. "No. I bought it. I want it. I just want $5 back.

Keep in mind that Mark was waiting in the car. He finally came in to see if I was being held hostage and how much it would take to release me. At that, the young man decided the easiest thing would be to give me the difference in cash and call it done. I agreed. But he said "I think it's four dollars instead of five." And I said, "No, 13 minus 8 is 5." And he said, "Okay, I'll take your word for it." We are sooo doomed.

What Was That?

We went to Kissimmee to pick up our mail and run some errands. I'm still confused about where we are most of the time, but we were sitting at a light when the F250 lurched forward a bit. My immediate response was "what was that?" Mark's initial thought was that something had gone wrong with the truck's gears. The truck seemed to be fine. My next thought was "Did someone rear end us?" Yes, I think they did.

Someone rear-ending an F250 enough to move it a few feet probably hit it pretty hard. But because it's a bit like riding in a tank, the  "what was that?" had no exclamation points or anything like that. It was the same tone of voice you'd use if you were trying to figure out if you were being annoyed by a gnat or a mosquito. We looked behind us and it did appear that there was a white Toyota that most likely hit us. I was going to jump out and investigate but Mark said not to get out where we were - too many lanes of traffic and the light wouldn't be red much longer. We would drive to a service station where we could pull over safely. We weren't especially worried about any damage because we have a tow bar on the back of the truck. Anything that hits us, actually hits the tow bar. Toyota vrs. F250? Pretty easy to figure out who wins that one.

We were on our way to the next intersection where we could pull in to a service station. The Toyota seemed to be following us and we indicated to move to the right so we could turn in to the service station. We thought the woman in the Toyota who'd hit us would be following us over but instead, she accelerated into the car that had been in front of us. We were shocked. Stunned. We stopped. People all around were stopping to help. She'd rear ended us, and now she'd rear ended someone else. Most of the people who stopped had seen her hit us and plow into the back of the other car. I'm not sure whether she had a stroke or some other event that caused her to be disoriented, but clearly she was. Mark and the men in the other car she hit helped her turn the engine off, got someone to call the police and an ambulance. Her head was bleeding and she was completely disoriented. They found a towel to hold on her head to try to slow the bleeding down while we waited for emergency response. Because we were involved (we were the first vehicle she hit) as well as witnesses to the second and far more serious crash, we ended up waiting for the sheriff and then the highway patrol. Poor dear - she was probably close to 90. She probably shouldn't be driving at all and she was probably lucky she didn't kill herself or someone else this time. I do know that if we'd been in the PT Cruiser instead of the F250, we'd probably have been hurt and the car would have been totaled.

As for the people in the other car she hit, the driver told us that he was driving his friend home from the ER when the accident happened and his friend had to be taken back to the ER. He thought he was okay but thought maybe he should go to the hospital to get checked out because as a single dad, he couldn't afford to miss work. And I'm not sure what happened to the lady in the Toyota. By the time the police got there she was able to talk coherently. She said she couldn't find the brake when she ran into the second car. That really doesn't explain how she managed to run into us. But it's not mine to worry about since we weren't harmed in any way.

It made for a relatively exciting day but not really the type of excitement we like. We're just thankful that the people involved are most likely going to be fine. And we walked away with a little white paint on our tow ball.

We're Still Waiting

Applying for a mortgage is not for the faint of heart. I wish our house in Texas had sold first, but it didn't and we're doing our best to get on with it. A week ago today we were given "conditional" approval to close. Initially, I was told that once I met the conditions, the approval would be firm, etched in stone - we'd be good to go. So I provided the additional documentation they wanted this past Tuesday, but we're still waiting. I really don't know what we're waiting for. I was told that we were waiting on the title work. Why the title work would make my mortgage "conditional" is not clear to me. I understand that having clear title is essential to closing. I get that, but it's nothing to do with me.

This is so different to my first home buying experience back in the 80s. Then I was treated like someone who was trying to buy a house but needed a loan to do so. (Which is pretty much everyone who's trying to buy a home.) I turned in my documentation and was given a close date and all I had to do was wait for them to get all the paperwork done. If there was a "conditional" close approval, I sure don't remember it. This time around, we've been treated like potential criminals. ("We have to do all of this because there is so much wire fraud and so much money laundering.)

Problems with wire fraud? Stop wiring. Back in the old days, you showed up at closing with a certified check. I'm guessing banks still do that. Not a lot of room for fraud in that that I can see. But then I've never been on the lookout for fraud opportunities.

And as for money laundering - let me just say that we've managed to get into our late 60s/early 70s without any criminal record of money laundering, or anything else other than minor traffic violations. Why would I take up money laundering now? Our credit scores are over 800. Do they think we got that because we don't pay our bills??

And here's the other, somewhat disturbing thing - we've met the loan originator and his assistant. They have names and faces. I've also spoken with the loan processor - she, too has a name. But "the underwriter" remains shrouded in mystery. No name. No face. A fierce god who makes demands that must be complied with for reasons that don't have to be explained to anyone.

As a HUD consultant, Mark has some experience with underwriters. In his role as a HUD consultant, he was allowed to know their names. And he will tell you that all of them operated under their own set of rules. Even within the same mortgage company, different underwriters would demand different things. One went so far as to refuse to get on with it until a comma was removed from the paperwork. (The offending comma was programmed into the HUD paperwork, and it was no easy task to get it edited out.) But it had to be done or the loan wouldn't go through.

Even though they all seem to operate on their own set of rules, they cite "federal regulations" as being the reason they are asking for all of that documentation. Maybe so. But I can tell you this - the financial/mortgage crisis was NOT caused by consumers. It was caused by BANKERS. So now, the bankers who should have gone to jail for that fiasco have license to treat consumers like potential criminals. It boggles the mind.

But in the meantime, we are still waiting.

Words with Friends and Creeps

I played Scrabble as a kid. Loved it. Once I got married it fell by the wayside. To his credit, my first husband tried but he really wasn't a good speller and almost every play he made had to be challenged. Second husband didn't like games and he couldn't spell either. And Mark would be lost without spell check. So I'm happy to play Words with Friends.

It's like a Scrabble game, but it's not actually in real time. You don't have to challenge anyone's word because the game won't let anyone play an "unacceptable" word. (Although I know there's a glitch in there that sometimes allows non-words to sneak through.) I've been playing online for eight or more years. When I first started playing, it actually was Words with Friends. You had to be Facebook friends with your opponent. That gradually changed to allow you (indeed, strongly encourage you) to play with people you didn't know.

I'm okay with that. I don't mind playing with people I don't know. Can't say I've met any life long friends playing, but there are several people I play with regularly whom I don't actually know.

But within the last six months I've noticed a really disturbing trend. Creeps. And it's all men being creeps. I've yet to encounter a creepy woman. They challenge you to a game and after the first move, they engage the chat feature.

"Hi"

I typically respond with "hi" because it would be rude not to return a greeting.

"Where are you playing from?"

My response "Dallas (or now Orlando) - and you?" - again because I don't want to be rude. Truth is, I don't care where they're playing from.

"Are you married or single?"

"I'm very happily married." This is where I start to lose some of the politeness. I don't reciprocate the inquiry into their marital status. Because I don't care. I just want to play the game.

"What do you like to do?"

"I like to play Words with Friends. I don't like to chat. I'm not a very chatty person."

Then they suggest that if they had my email address, we wouldn't need to use chat. What kind of creepy idiot am I dealing with? Do they realize how much junk email I get in a day? What makes them think I want an email from them? Some have asked for my phone number so they could text me or phone me. Seriously, I'm not making this up. Some of them believe that if we are playing Words with Friends, that makes us friends. Sorry, that's not how I see it.

Some of them have claimed to be soldiers in Afghanistan. (Dude, I see your picture - you are too old to be a private in the army! And you seem to be playing in the same time zone I'm in.) I'm sure one of them was some type of foreign national - his average word score was 4. You get more than four points playing the word "the".

And call me old-fashioned, but I don't like to be addressed as "Beautiful" by someone I don't know. I suppose there are women who don't mind and others who thrive on it. I am not those women.

One told me his name was Harry and asked me my name. You can see people's names on their profile all through the game. I didn't bother to answer that one at all.

One asked if I liked walking in the park. (How was I supposed to answer that? I lived in Dallas and now I live in Orlando. We don't walk in the park this time of year. And what difference does it make to this guy?

One asked what turned me on. I felt like I'd been thrown back in time to a 70s singles bar. I didn't answer. In addition to it being none of his business, it's an inappropriate topic of conversation for mixed gender strangers. So when I didn't respond he came back to ask if the question had "hurt" me. No, it didn't hurt me. It annoyed me. So again, I didn't answer.

A few of them have become incredibly insistent that I give them a telephone number or an email address. And when I refuse, they quit the game. And some of these are people I've gone "silent" on, not answering their nosy and irrelevant questions. Seriously, dude, I'm not responding to you on chat. Do you seriously think I'm going to open the door for you to call me, send text messages, or email?

I suspect they're all up to some kind of scam - I just don't know what kind of mischief you can get up to with someone's first name, last initial, and email address. But I assure you I do not intend to find out.

Nowdays, I'm saving myself the trouble. If I get a game request from a man I don't know, he has to meet certain criteria for me to accept the game. His picture has to include a female partner and he has to have an average word score over 15. Or, he has to play regularly with someone I know. If not, I decline the game. I've declined three so far this week. It's easier that way.

'

Becoming...Special

I recently read Michelle Obama's book, Becoming. I also read Becoming Mrs. Lewis, a novel about Joy Davidman who married C.S. Lewis. One of the themes running throughout both of these books was the feeling of not being enough - not good enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough. I certainly experienced all of those when I was a teen. My parents were of a mind that you didn't want to overtly praise a child for fear of them getting a "big head". 

Then I got married. That bolstered my self-esteem!. I was chosen. I was loved. Then one day at the tender age of 23, I found that I'd been deselected. No longer loved. The effect was devastating. What was wrong with me? Not good enough. Not pretty enough. Not attentive enough. Not a good cook. Not a good mother. I wanted to see the woman he preferred to me. I wanted to compare my hair, my eyes, my body to hers so I could see where I was deficient and fix the problem. Maybe she had a better sense of humor, maybe she was an auto mechanic. I had to know so I could remake myself in her image and save the relationship. When I realized that there was no other woman I was even more upset. That meant that it was just me. When it came down to being with me or being alone, he preferred to be alone. Total devastation. Not good enough. Not enough.

To top it off, he told me that I just wasn't fun. And that was what I needed to hear because that made me angry. He had the nerve to say I wasn't fun? He was no barrel of laughs. We had a three year old, I worked full time and took two classes per semester trying to finish my degree. And like so many woman in that era, the housekeeping chores were primarily mine. When did I have time to be fun? And what fun was he looking for? He sat around and watched TV all evening and if I had anything to say, I had to wait for a commercial to say it. That certainly wasn't fun. Did he think I was obliged to amuse him? But it did motivate me to stop crying and get some semblance of a life back.

It took a lot of support from friends and a few professionals to help me recover my self worth and realize that I was good enough, pretty enough, and smart enough. I could cook. I could sew. I could hold down a decent job. I made As in my classes. I was never beautiful, but I was attractive and I never lacked female friends or male attention. He couldn't take that away from me. Those friends and professionals helped me see that I'd stopped being me in order to be the person he wanted and in the end, he didn't want that person.
I vowed to myself never to compromise myself in that way again, and I haven't.

Every now and then I have a day when I have feelings of inadequacy. Not good enough - not pretty enough. (I almost always think I'm smart enough.) Fortunately, I got past most of that insecurity all those years ago in my 20s. I am smart enough. I am pretty enough. And I am special.

In fact, there was one hapless young man when I was in my 20s who managed to show up at my house intending to take me out. He arrived about a half hour later than the agreed upon time after spending the afternoon out drinking with his buddies and if that wasn't bad enough, he had no real plan for the evening.

I was not happy. He'd turned up at my door in jeans and a grubby tee shirt half drunk with no plan! What was he thinking?? I remember telling him at the time that I was special and he needed to treat me like I was special. Showing up half drunk with no plan was no way to treat someone special. I didn't stand for it then, and I wouldn't stand for it now.

And thank goodness I don't have to. Mark always treats me like I'm special - except when he walks ahead of me! (He says I need to speed up.) I wake up in the morning and I see him. If he's awake, he's smiling. What could possibly be better than waking up to someone who loves you smiling at you? I can't imagine anything better. I never experienced it before. And while I don't necessarily wake up smiling, once I see him smiling, I automatically smile back, because I know that not only am I enough - I'm special. And I'm grateful to have someone in my life who recognizes that.

Hello Dali!

Salvador Dali - the surrealist guy who painted melting clocks. And he liked to do different things with his mustache. That was pretty much all I knew about him until we went to the Dali Museum in St. Petersburg this past week.

The museum houses a painting he did when he was only 10 years old, a self-portrait he did at 17 and numerous works from when he was a young man in addition to much later works. Since he was born in 1904, he lived through both world wars but the second war greatly affected him, which shows in his paintings.

I'm sure the story of his wife Gala was just touched on and glossed over. It appears she left her husband and child immediately upon meeting Dali and never left his side again. She was older than he and became his business manager. He signed many of his paintings with both his and her name. There are probably some fascinating tales in there if one chose to dig into them.

But enough scandal, back to the art. There were two master work paintings that I found particularly impressive. The first, Gala Contemplating the Mediterranean Sea - which when viewed from a distance becomes a portrait of Abraham Lincoln. It just makes you wonder "how'd he do that?" 

The second, The Hallucinogenic Toreador, is one that is extremely rich in details that I would have missed if the docent hadn't pointed them out. Hard to miss Venus de Milo, but I could easily have missed the matador, the bull and the dog and I wouldn't have known why the flies were there. It made me go back through some of the other works and look for those types of details.

Here are some photos of some other works that struck my fancy, including some bronzes, one of which was made into a full size sculpture for the garden.

His eyes are Dutch Masters, his nose is a Coca-cola bottle...

The Average Bureaucrat

A sketch of the Marx Brothers (Dali especially liked Harpo)

Full-Time RVers

I was 19 the first time I ever met someone who intended to live in their RV full time. It was cool because they sold me their washer, dryer, stove and refrigerator. I'd worked with the guy. He was retiring and he and his wife were selling their house and all their stuff and taking to the open road.

Were they happy? Did they regret their decision? I don't know. I never saw them again after we picked up the appliances. Were they nuts?! I suppose so. My experience with RVs, campers, whatever you want to call them is somewhat limited.

When I was in my early teens, my mom and dad bought a pop-up camper. What this means in practical terms is that my mom and dad had a bed while me and my siblings slept on the ground in sleeping bags. After I got married and left home, they got a better camper. They never lived in it. I'm not sure they did much traveling with it. They liked to go for weekends. My son and I stayed with them a few times after I separated from my husband. We stayed in the upper bunk. I bashed my head on the ceiling every time I wanted to turn over.

So I wasn't a fan of campers. Not a problem. My second husband and I bought an Airstream. I absolutely LOVE those things. I went shopping and got it all kitted out. New TV, new beach towels, new dishes ...new everything. We never spent a night in and and one day I came home from work to find that he'd sold it for $5K less than we'd paid for it - with all of the stuff I'd bought still in it. I wasn't especially happy.

So when Mark decided that we needed a camper, it was a bit of a hard sell. But he finally convinced me with things like knowing who's been sleeping in that bed and knowing what's in your food. And truthfully, I've quite enjoyed it. I like going places and seeing things. Touring. I like touring.

But then we have Mark's CAD to deal with. We thought we could take the RV and go south to San Antonio or New Braunfels to get away from the colder temperatures in Dallas last winter.

It didn't work. We spent two months in New Braunfels, just living there and working. It was only 5 degrees warmer than Dallas, which still wasn't warm enough. So mostly we stayed in. And I didn't like it. Not much to do but work. You couldn't really go outside much because most days it was just too cold. And that's when we realized that we just needed to move to Florida where it's warmer.

The plan was to take the RV to Florida and look for a house and live in the RV until we can move in to the house.

We've been living in our RV for the past month. It seems like six months. All things considered, our RV is decent sized. We have a kitchen (with an island). We have a queen size bed and a bathroom with a shower that you can actually turn around in. The refrigerator may not be full size according to American standards, but it's bigger than most UK refrigerators.

The real problems - we have no dishwasher and the cats won't do the dishes. We are constantly doing dishes. It seems we wash them several times a day. It's boring. It's tedious.

It's hard to make the bed because even though it's a queen size bed, you can't actually walk around it easily. I have a hard time doing it but I hate when it's not tidy.

I don't have my own washer and dryer - which is okay when you're touring but not when you're living there. I'm not going to wash a bra I paid in excess of $100 for in a laundromat, thank you. I'd rather go to Kohl's and buy a couple of cheap ones that I can throw in the washer than ruin my good ones.

We are trying to work but things are just piling up - even though I brought filing boxes to try to eliminate that problem. It just makes me crazy - probably because I'm too old for this.

Our cats have minimal space to run around in. We tried putting harnesses and leashes on them to take them outside but they fall over like they're dead. But we just can't let them go outside in a campground - and I'm told that there are predators living in the surrounding fields. 

And I am constantly battling ants. I don't like to use the harsh chemicals because I don't believe they're good for us or our cats. So mostly I'm spraying with bleach. It kills them, but they keep coming back. And from what I can see outside, there is an endless supply of them.

I will be so happy and relieved to get out of here and into our house. I am happy to go someplace in our RV to visit. I am not happy to live in it. We probably won't even be planning any trips until next summer.

To my friends and family who choose to live in their RVs. If you're already doing this, I assume you enjoy it and good for you! For those who are planning on moving into their RV, I hope you've given it plenty of thought and a trial run.

At least Mark and I are in agreement on this. We like touring - defined as a trip to a specific destination, an exploration of that area and then a return home. We don't enjoy it as a way of life and can't wait to get in our new home. Hopefully, we're only a few weeks away now.

A Full Time Job

Oh my! Being self-employed isn't the easiest thing, but it's way easier than applying for a mortgage! When we made the decision to go ahead and buy another house before we'd sold our existing home, I had no idea what I was getting into.

The last time I bought a house was 36 years ago. They didn't want nearly so much stuff. I have been working for days just trying to keep up. First of all, true to form, they need to make sure that you actually have enough money to pay cash for it in the bank before they agree to make a loan. (I remember when I was in my 20s telling a loan officer that if I had the money, I wouldn't need a loan. - Goodness! It's still the same. They only want to loan it to you if you already have it! Which at this point in my life is fine, because I'd rather take out a loan than pay the taxes on taking it out of an IRA.

But I hadn't counted on all of this. Affidavits for divorces. Constantly updating bank statements and investment account statements. Getting an "award" letter from Social Security stating how much you're getting for the coming year - even though the same amount has been coming into your bank account monthly without fail for the past 6 years. Proving that you've paid your 2018 taxes, even though you don't have a "payment plan". I can go on and on. I've been asked to provide all kinds of documentation that is virtually impossible to provide. - Some because it's virtually impossible and some because it's in Texas because who would think you needed to bring that with you??

I have spent hours and days on the phone with the IRS, the SSA, different investment companies and banks. What do they want from me???

All I can say is that if we had this to do over again, we would have done it when we were in our 50s. We are just too old for this kind of BS. Both of our credit scores are in excess of 800. What on earth do they want? Is the credit score not some kind of indication that we're going to pay our bills? (I'm NOT Donald Trump, after all.)

The grand plan was that our house would sell first and we'd buy the new house with the proceeds.That didn't exactly work out. And the reality is that we're too old to put our lives on hold waiting for a sale. We'll just get on with it! And so we have - but it's really hard work! Much harder than I expected.

And today my task was to contact the insurance agents to get a quote for home insurance. And they want to know almost as much as the mortgage company. Date of birth, employer, previous employer, etc. and so on. When he asked me if I was employed, I wanted to tell him that my full time job was providing information to the mortgage company.

In the meantime, I've looked up the average numbers. The average credit score is 580 - ours are both over 800. The average down payment is 3.5%. Ours is 20%. The average debt to income ratio is 43% - ours is less than 30%. Why do these people want to torture us?? They should be lucky to have us. I'm just about to lose it. I am tempted to pull the money out of our investment accounts, pay for the house outright and tell the mortgage company to get lost. We will see.

Norwegian Air

Since I don't like political controversy, we'll ignore the fact that Trump would prefer more Norwegian immigrants and just leave it at "please not the ones who run Norwegian Air".

This flight was even worse than the one we experienced several years ago that had seven screaming children. Hard to imagine? I know!

In the UK, you get a little more time between the time someone dies and the funeral than what you get in the US. But it's still not like you're booking your flight over a month out. And we were flying from Orlando rather than Dallas, so there were totally different airlines to choose from - most of which we'd never heard of and certainly had no experience with. The old familiars like British Airways, American Airlines and Delta wanted nearly $2K per person to get us to the funeral on time.

But we saw Norwegian Air. And the price was closer to $900 each. Without further ado, (ado being research) we booked our tickets. Then comes the day of our flight.

We were on our way to the airport when we got the text message that our flight was delayed - instead of leaving at 5 pm, we'd be leaving the following day at 2:30 pm. Then the next day it was delayed again until 6:30. We were concerned that if there was another delay, we wouldn't actually get to the funeral on time. Now, the next day it didn't go at 6:30 - but it did go - closer to 7:30 or 8 pm.

But because of the initial one day delay we had to change our parking reservation. That was done online and with very little difficulty. Then came the rental car. We'd reserved a car with Hertz for pickup on Monday morning, which would obviously have to be changed to Tuesday morning.

Mark phoned Hertz and got it all changed for Tuesday morning 4 am pickup. Or so we thought. He got a message on Monday morning indicating that he had picked up his car as originally scheduled. We called Hertz. We told them we'd had to change our reservation due to a flight cancellation and that we'd be picking it up on Tuesday instead of Monday.

Whoever had indicated that they'd handled it, and had given us a new price for the car, had apparently not put it into their system. I don't know who they thought picked up our car, but we certainly didn't want to be responsible for a car we didn't have.

We tried to explain the problem - which is pretty much a wasted effort when you're dealing with a Filipino call center. I'm sure they're fine when they can follow a script. But when you're telling them something like "I didn't pick up my car. I changed it from Monday to Tuesday", they don't have any idea what you're saying. They tell you that you need to speak to someone in the International Department, even though that was what you selected when you phoned in the first place. After three "customer service agents" (and I use the term loosely) put us back into the queue, we started to lose patience.

"I've been transferred to the "International Department" three times and all that happens is I get back in the queue. Do not do that to me again."

Always before when we'd phoned Hertz, we got people in either the US or the UK. I am very disappointed that they've moved their call center to the Philippines where they may be able to read the script but still don't have a clue what you want or need. After over an hour on the phone, we were able to establish that no one had "our" car and that our car would be available to pick up on Tuesday morning.

It made you want to pull your hair out but the truth of it is that if Norwegian hadn't mucked it up, we wouldn't have had a problem with Hertz.

Back to the airlines. After all the delays on Monday, we were finally airborne and would arrive at London Gatwick somewhere closer to 8 am than 4 am. But we were going to make it in plenty of time for the funeral the following day.

Never in my life have I been on a transatlantic flight that served no food. No food! Unless you count the miniscule bag of pretzels and small glass of water. Some people got food. But we didn't. Because food had to be pre-ordered. Where was that memo? I only saw the memo about reserving my seats for an extra fee. So there we were on a transatlantic flight with no food. And unlike domestic flights where they're happy to sell you a $5 cookie - we couldn't even buy anything. Because everything had to be pre-ordered. Our original flight had been cancelled - when were we supposed to pre-order? When we complained the young lady offered to get us a complaint form. &*^%$*! I don't need a form to complain. I can complain perfectly well without one of their forms. At least when Mark started getting sick because he's diabetic and hadn't eaten in hours, they did get him a piece of cake. If it's not illegal to deny people food and beverages on a transatlantic flight, it certainly should be. But the lack of food and water made the lack of blankets, earphones, and pillows seem unimportant. And who cares about duty free shopping at this point?

Then we come to the return flight. We were expecting delays - because in the meantime, we'd read up on Norwegian Air. Delay and cancel is what they do. It's a specialty of theirs. Apparently they have more complaints and lawsuits than any other airline in the world. The world! Fortunately we were only delayed a couple of hours. But this time, we went to one of the airport restaurants and bought food. (Okay, we should have bought more than we did, but at least we had some.) Oddly, this time around I was offered food, even though Mark was not. I'm not sure why, because when they asked me if I wanted chicken or beef, I said that I wasn't expecting any food because I hadn't pre-ordered. (We still hadn't figured out where or how to do that.) But also this time out, they had snacks available for sale (sandwiches and fruit) - not that we wanted to order any because, quite frankly it didn't look all that good.

The flight attendants on both flights were quick to tell anyone who complained about anything that they didn't work for Norwegian - they worked for HiFly - so apparently the crew are contractors not employees - and as soon as they were finished serving food to the chosen few who knew how to pre-order, they disappeared behind their curtain not to be seen again until time to land.

Mark posted a complaint on their website and they offered to let us a file a claim for expenses. Fools. We have no monetary loss. How do you calculate what you lose when you are denied food and water? I felt like I was in some kind of medieval prison.

So this week we took two trips on Norwegian Air. First and Last. My recommendation to you is don't bother to take any.