When I originally booked my ticket home from New York to San Francisco for Thanksgiving “break,” I scheduled my flight home for Wednesday, thinking, incorrectly, I had a biology exam on Tuesday.

After I realized that I actually had no bio exam (my fault), and that it was too late to change my ticket, I developed this rather radical scheme that I would try my hand at leaving a day earlier than my originally booked departure, a 6.00am JFK – SFO flight on Wednesday. I figured I could provide a compelling argument – mostly, based around the idea that I could act sufficiently politely and meekly enough and spin a convincing tale that I would like to assist dear United Airlines in removing one more passenger from the fray of Wednesday pre-Thanksgiving flying by simply allowing me to standby for a flight that Tuesday. A bit presumptuous, and tenuous of a plan, yes, but I figured I’d give it a try and see what would happen.

I queried the FlyerTalk community, my original post on the United forum soon being moved into a larger, consolidated “Standby the Day Before Flight” thread. Apparently, I would not be the first soul to try standing by the day before flight – and, apparently, the results were not good. Most people were met with requirements to pay a change fee, and denied travel otherwise. Yes, I thought, I’d be trying to expand boundaries a bit, but why not give it a try, I reasoned. Most people, though, remained skeptical. “Good luck,” someone on Twitter said. “You’ll probably need it.”

I stayed determined, though, to escape New York and return to San Francisco a day early. After an abbreviated week of an organic chemistry exam, and a 25 page biology lab report, I blearily made my way to JFK, and strode my way to the United counter. I made myself very clear, that my reservation had been booked for tomorrow, but if possible, I would like to travel today. The agent seemed unsure if she could confirm me on the flight, made a few calls, and said she could only place me on standby, the outcome I was expecting. Fine, I said. There were plenty of seats available (so much for the hellish Thanksgiving travel meme perpetrated by cable news and mainstream media). I took my departure management cards and headed through security, with about two hours to wait before my (hopeful) departure on the 5.16pm flight to San Francisco.

Exhausted, I zoned out by the gate, waiting for the gate agents to appear and ready for the fligh’s departure, and waited for the gate monitors to start displaying the flight information, at which point I could check my status on the standby list. About an hour before the flight, a gate agent walked to the desk, clad in a polyester vest, hair parted in the middle like a fault line, leading to an obvious crop circle of a bald spot. I kept my eyes trained on the agent, just to try to ascertain and discern his demeanor, and immediately, he placed a slab of wood with  “Position Closed” emblazoned on the front. Ah, I  nodded to myself. One of those types agents – immediately closing himself off to the potential for any passengers to ask a question. Something seemed a a bit ominous, but I soon reassured myself that I may board the flight when the monitors appeared with 14 seats remaining, and my name first on the standby list. Biz class, apparently, was full, but I really didn’t care – I just wanted a chance to head home early.

Soon, the agent removed his sign, and a few minutes later, he paged for me. Thinking he was about to issue my boarding pass, I headed to the podium.

“I don’t see your reservation,” he begins in a surly fashion. I quickly note his name, and the title, “Service Director” on his nametag. This was an inauspicious beginning to the conversation.

“Yeah, I’m actually traveling tomorrow, but standing by for a flight tonight,” I responded.

“So, your reservation is for tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I replied. “But, I am on standby for tonight.” I showed him my departure management card.

“You cannot standby for a flight a day early,” he responded coolly, and I felt a surge of blood rush in my ears and a charge of adrenaline as he brought the challenge.

“Why not,” I ask, raising the severity of my voice, and adding a hint of irritation. “I’m on the standby list for tonight. It says right here .  . .”

He continues with impeccable calmness, but injecting his sanguine cadence with condescension. “You cannot travel the day before your flight without paying the 150 dollar change fee.”

“But, I understand. I’m on the standby list. The check in agent put me on the list.”

“Yes, I understand that they may have put you on the list, but they should not have done that.”

I decided I would not recede. I had traveled too far to JFK, endured a hellish week, and saw 14 available seats, that I would buckle. I was determined to press my case. “I really don’t understand the problem. The agent legitimately put me on the list, and there are 14 seats left on this airplane. Really, what trouble is it?” I really failed to see any legitimacy in this argument, when an agent placed me on standby for tonight, and there were still 14 seats. Perhaps my reasoning is why I do not, and will never, work in some sort of business-related field, but I really saw no issue with my very-real and tangible department management cards, and putting me on a non-full airplane. He seemed querulous, as if he was simply nitpicking unnecessarily on United’s rules, and attempting to change the prior agent’s actions. “What really is the problem?” I ask, more loudly, more pressingly.

“It’s the same reason we don’t give out first class seats if they are empty . . . ” he tries.

“No,” I tersely interrupt. “That’s a completely irrelevant argument, and has nothing to do with me being on standby. I’m on standby right now, and you’re trying to change it. The check in agent legitimately placed me on the list.”

“And I will go get that employee in trouble for that,” he replies. “Because that is what you seem like you want me to do.”

I couldn’t believe his response – irrelevant, asinine, and stuffed with idiocy. This man was utterly bereft of any sort of etiquette – and instead, remained flippant and bellicose, trying to twist the situation to astonishingly idiotic territory.

I decided to match his condescension. “Sir, I don’t know why you feel the need to attack your own employees . . . ”

He interrupted. “You do not seem to be able to hear what I am saying. You will not get on this flight without paying the change fee.”

“But, I am on the standby list – what happens now?”

“I am not putting you on this flight unless you pay the 150 dollars.”

“Then,” I say flatly, “I want to speak to a supervisor. I want to speak to someone higher than a service director.”

“Sure,” he replies with false confidence.

“And, I am taking your name, and writing United.”

“Go ahead, take it,” he continues to challenge, still feeling the high of his power trip and probably thinking that his hairs style commanded some sort of respect. He radioed for the supervisor, and reported that she was in a meeting, and didn’t know where she would be coming down. I said I would wait.

I wait, and boarding begins. The Service Director still tries to remain nonchalant, and begins cheerfully boarding the flight. Eventually, the supervisor appears, shakes my hand, and introduces herself. Immediately, she appears to be one of the nicest people with whom I have ever spoken.

I begin to tell her the story – how I had appeared at the airport, asked to be placed on standby, the agent wouldn’t confirm me, but would place me on the list, and then I found myself in an altercation with a service director, who, I made sure to mention, was combative and rude.

She immediately apologized for the Service Director’s actions – “whatever the outcome,” she said, “it’s not okay for him to behave that way, and I will talk to him.” She looks up my reservation, and then calls the agent at check-in, who, I should mention, was simply wonderful, and extremely kind, and begins to hear the story. At no point, I was impressed to note, was the supervisor combative, make assumptions, dismissive, or try to strike down anyone’s tale – she calmly listened to the agent, who apparently wanted to talk with me on the phone. On the United podium phone, I was amused to note that I was actually using a United podium phone, the agent apologized profusely for the misunderstanding. I told her not to worry, at all, and that I understood the discrepancies, and was really only peeved at the foul attitude of the Service Director. After I hang up, the supervisor, still cool and kind, lets me know that I shouldn’t have been put on the standby list a day early, but then says that, as a person, she doesn’t want to renege on my flying standby.

She prints my boarding pass for the flight that evening. I don’t even care at all that I am in seat 20E. I’m pleased to be able to leave. I thank the supervisor, brightened by how proudly, professionally, and cordially someone could represent United, take responsibility, and simultaneously explain the rules without seeming punitive or didactic.

I thought about saying something snotty to the Service Director as he scanned my boarding pass, but decided not to engage him in his petty tactic of verbal combat.

I didn’t even acknowledge him as he scanned my boarding pass, and gave an almost sincere-sounding, “Have a nice flight, sir.”