Stop it, Spirit. Your advertisements brought out the bad boy in me this summer ::swoons::
I have a confession to make.
This summer, I had a wild romantic fling with Spirit Airlines.
It was hot. It was intense. It didn’t last very long, but it also may not be over quite yet.
I really don’t know where we stand right now, as we haven’t been intimate in nearly three weeks.
But, my heart carries the memories of over 25,000 FREE SPIRIT miles that I’ve accumulated within a span of 90 days, lasting from June through August.
We made a lot of plans together flying around the country. At one point, viewing all of the itineraries listed under the “my reservations” tab on Spirit.com required a scroll button.
Yeah. It got pretty serious pretty fast.
Making friends (with benefits) never felt so rewarding*.
*adapted from FREE SPIRIT master card slogan.
Spirit and I had first met in December 2013 when I booked a last minute trip from Minneapolis to Chicago. We started off on rough footing: she was late to our first “meet-up” and brought me to Chicago several hours late.
However, I sorta botched my own first impressions by pulling a shady stunt on the return leg. I slept through my early morning return flight to Minnesota after deciding to indulge in that extra cuppa eggnog the night before at a Christmas party.
I’d flaked, and Spirit ran off with my money. To date, that has been the first and only time I’ve ever missed a flight on my own accord.
Surely then, I thought, we were through.
But we briefly re-kindled again in June 2014 when I had to make another last minute trip to Chicago. It was an expensive date, even for Spirit standards, but she came through for me when I needed her the most, while leaving the lightest impact on my wallet.
Hey, everyone needs an airline one night stand from time to time.
Then, Summer 2015 happened.
The airline dating and romance landscape had changed, and my other partners/options had upped their game. Still on indefinite hiatus from even speaking to my ex, an airline-that-shall-not-be-named, my choices were limited to the network carriers, Southwest and Spirit. Frontier, Alaska and JetBlue, albeit sexy airlines, did not operate routes between my primary rotational cities: Dallas/Ft. Worth, Minneapolis/St. Paul and Chicago O’Hare.
Spirit dangled the prospects of joining the $9 Fare Club.
So, I bit the bullet, put on my headphones and listened to “Drunk in love” by Beyonce**, and covered my eyes as I punched in my credit card number online (well, not really) and paid the $59 to “rent out” Spirit’s special companionship for 365 days.
**not really. I only listen to Beyonce when my students demand I play it in my yoga sculpt class, no offense to the BAE-gency.
No flyers regrets
On the ground, Spirit can be such a tease. Her reputation for showing up to dates on-time is pretty spotty and trying to get through to her using her agents can be hit or miss.
But, when we were up in the air together, Spirit was lovely to me.
Spirit taught me a lot about travel empowerment. Thanks to my relationship with her, I was able to master the art of packing “light,” something that I’ve struggled with for ages. My backpack is now equipped with a “system” I’ve created to insure that my allotted free, personal carry-on item that can hold enough clothing and essentials for a 5-day trip.
That’s right, a five-day trip, covering attire for all occasions: shorts, jeans, a bathing suit, flip-flops, a polo, a button down, workout clothing, t-shirts, Lulu shorts, Sperry’s, toilet trees, my iPad mini, book, chargers and other accessories.
But, even this could be considered excessive: Spirit taught me that I could express myself liberally as part of embracing the whole, “bare fare” campaign. Going comMANdo created room for trip souveniors in my carry-on, and liberated my loins.
I yearn to be the next model for Spirit’s ad campaigns: now a “bare”-liever in the Bare Fare.
Yes, she charges extra for certain services. Spirit was my escort to several weddings this summer, but, she asked for some extra cash so that I could keep my suit clean.
Bless you, Spirit: you know I need to be lookin’ fresh at all times.
My snazzy dress shoes are better kept in the overhead compartment for an extra $5 rather than in a checked bag. At least it meant first-in (heyo) first-out when it came to boarding groups. She’s all about the get-on, get-off first, quick n’ dirty approach when time is money.
Screw waiting at the carousel.
Spirit, you got my back!
When I really was in a treat-yo-self mood, I got more cushion for the pushin-err, push-back from the gate as I purchased the Big Front seat. For $40 extra on a 4 hour flight from Dallas to the City of Brotherly love, the ability to sit in a domestic first class-style seat with full recline and extra legroom was a steal.
Spirit also endorsed my work hard, play-hard lifestyle. I most certainly did follow her suggestions on the printed in-flight meal card menu by “grabbing some liquid fun” on board by purchasing 3-mini bottles of tequila for $17, saving $7 worth of booze that would have been charged to me on American (since my 500 mile upgrade stickers never clear anyways).
Those are some good libation vibrations, and I was lovin’ it the whole time.
For $3, I’d buy two coffees, which I’d pretty much pay for the same sock juice served at the Seattle’s Worst Best at the airport.
For less than $5, I’d purchase an array of munchies or snack boxes and feel like I was back in my college days chowing on Ramen noodles or cheese and crackers.
I did, however, avoid the Otis Spunkmeyer items for sale because I didn’t want to take another trip to the CVS minute clinic.
Get that dirt off your shoulder
I never walked off a Spirit flight and felt that I needed to take a shower, except for that one time when I stepped off the plane at New Orleans in July and proceeded to take a literal sweat bath. But, that wasn’t her fault. Every single Spirit plane I have flown on to date is spaNKin’ clean. The cabins are airy, fresh and I don’t find crumbs under my seat (like the one time I flew AirTran, there were enough cheerios in the cushion to provide me a free in-flight breakfast….YAY, not).
As far as the notions of skimpy legroom is concerned, well, I mean, you could fly Spirit for hundreds of dollars less than the airline-that-shall-remain-unnamed, and avoid flying on ERJ-145 seaters between Houston and Minneapolis or Dallas and Chicago (trust me, I’ve flown both routes on the (un)friendly skies of a tube for flights long enough that was designed to keep Deep Vein Thrombosis doctors employed).
If you’re going to torture yourself on a flight long enough to develop DVT symptoms, you might as well fly an airline that will save you a few hundos that you can eventually apply to your medical billz.
Perhaps the most pleasant surprise of all is how friendly the cabin crew, pilots and flight attendants are on each flight. Sure, the ground operations personnel leave a bit more to be desired, but those in charge of the care in the air are truly my heroes. On the dozens of Spirit flights I flew this summer, never once did I feel unsafe or unappreciated by the on-board crew. Pilots kept passengers well-informed of operational situations (should any occur) and thanked customers for their business.
Plus, despite the years I’ve spent listening to the in-flight US Airways “HAWK” from the purser peddling the Dividend Miles credit card, it only took one flight on Spirit to invest in the FREE SPIRIT airlines MasterCard, despite the flight attendant using a similar approach.
She even waived the first annual fee for me. Score.
As far as the customer make-up on the flight is concerned, any myths about Spirit flying just plane crazies is total hogwash. The vast majority of my experiences with other Spirit customers was pleasantly normal. Flights were packed and passengers proudly exchanged stories on the fat wads of cash they had saved on flying SPIRIT to their vacation spots, HELLLLOOOO VEGAS!
{sidenote: the US Airways HAWK was particularly aggressive on the numerous 5AM departures I’ve flown in the past, which, for whatever reason, the carrier insists on doing once the plane reaches cruising altitude. I’m sure that the 120+ sleeping pax really appreciated that}
Call me, maybe?
Now, my summer travel has subsided. With peak demand periods over, Spirit is now in a pricing funk with its various competitors scheming ways to price-match bottom-barrel fares.
So, I *may* have started flirting with AA again this year, but I promise! It’s only because I want to fly the 787.
Really!
You may be the Wal-Mart of the airline industry, Spirit, but I adore you.
