Handcuffed to Delta? (sigh) Maybe just a little . . .

I swore it wouldn’t happen, but happen it did. And quickly, too.

Living for decades near a Delta hub didn’t do it.

Being a Delta Skymiles member since 1997 didn’t do it.

But accidentally, inadvertently, unwittingly reaching the airline’s Silver Medallion status (I still don’t know how I managed it) gave me a big push toward Hook . . .

And getting the Delta Reserve Amex card added Line . . .

But dammit, I refuse to go all in with and Sinker.

I don’t want to be overly loyalty-bound to any airline. But with my Delta Skymiles now quickly racking up, I have a new obsession: racking up more Skymiles.

The two most straightforward and efficient ways to do this, of course, are to fly Delta frequently and to use the Delta credit card for all purchases.

But as a lowly teacher, chained to an inflexible schoolyear calendar, I can’t simply travel hither and thither whenever I wish, accumulating Skymiles willy nilly while living the life of the insouciant traveler.

And as for promoting the Delta card from second string to starting quarterback? Weirdly, I can resist this. As I mentioned when I compared credit cards, our main credit card gives us cash back, which reduces our monthly bill, and oh how I love reducing our bill.

But racking up airmiles can be quite the heady experience, too. Delta knows this and so, like a wily streetcorner dealer, it provides several other ways for the Skymiles-obsessed to get their fix.

Ways I’ve gone down the dark, backstreet alley . . . or will when the opportunity presents itself:

Opting in: This is a very bad sign indeed. Usually, I go to great lengths to keep my inbox clutter-free, but I recently logged into my account (I have my Skymiles number and password memorized now—another bad sign) and gleefully checked “Yes, please!” to every opt-in option Delta provides. Yikes.

A classic sign of addiction

Skymiles Dining: Because the program is free to join and easy to use, our usual restaurants are about to feel the sting of rejection. But here’s how I’m choosing to look at it: in addition to getting Skymiles for eating out, it’s getting us out of our dining rut. If I get out of this rut 11 times in a year I become a V! I! P!*, with exclusive benefits I can only dare to imagine, including—crucially—more airmiles (she said while tapping the vein of her inner arm).

*exclamation marks added for emphasis

So if I lived in, say, San Antonio, dining at these restaurants would help me hoard accumulate miles.

Starbucks/Delta Partnership: I’m not a huge fan of Starbucks. It’s overpriced and frankly, the coffee I make at home with my superautomatic espresso machine tastes better. (And don’t get me started on how they pass off half-and-half as cream. Then again, everyone does this. Sigh.) However, the husband and I are often gifted with Starbucks cards (gratefully—I wouldn’t want anyone thinking otherwise), which we use to buy beans. Annoyingly, I missed this new partnership’s promotional signup window by a week, thereby losing out on 500 bonus miles (that stung). But I signed up anyway because—get this—even purchases made with gift cards given to us by others net me airmiles. Now that’s a fix worth getting. Granted, these small purchases aren’t going to put me on a flight to Timbuktu, but at least I’m not leaving easy miles on the table.

Airbnb/Delta partnership: After our first Airbnb stay, I concluded that, in just the right circumstances, Airbnb would be a good option for us, but that most of the time regular ol’ hotels were more our style. But wouldn’t you know it, I recently reserved Airbnbs in two French towns for our upcoming summer travel. I sure wish I’d known about this partnership when I booked. All it takes is entering my Skymiles number into Delta’s Airbnb portal, which then shoots me straight through to Airbnb’s website. The good news is that I have since booked another Airbnb in a third French town. Unfortunately, there’s a delayed gratification component to this fix: I won’t see the airmiles until after I complete my stay. But if I can wait 3½ years to take possession of our new travel trailer, this months-long delay shouldn’t bother me.

It does, but it shouldn’t.

Late bags: Who wants to sit around waiting at the airport carousel for luggage? I do! Turns out, if I have to wait more than 20 minutes for my bags on a domestic flight, I fill out an online form and get 2500 bonus miles. Look sharp, Delta. I won’t just be lounging at the carousel next time. I’ll be vying against you in a twisted airport version of Beat the Clock.

Using Delta Vacations: ‘Tis true. I’m actually considering it. Though it means ceding some travel planning control, the husband and I are currently engaged in negotiations (in which I will surely prevail) over a future spring break trip booked through Delta Vacations. It makes me feel like a sellout, but we Skymiles junkies can’t help ourselves, and besides, this one gives triple miles on purchases that will be in the thousands. I mean, ‘cmon people. Triple miles! (tap, tap)

It may look like a lot of airmiles, but the amount needed for a free international flight makes this a mere pittance.

There are actually several more ways to sell your soul to Delta that I have no interest in pursuing. I won’t bore you with those details here; this post is long enough already. And let’s let’s face it, if you don’t fly Delta and you’ve gotten this far, you’ve just wasted several minutes of your precious time on Earth reading worthless drivel. (Thanks for sticking it out.)

I’ll finish by saying that I’m committed to fighting the good fight and combatting total capitulation. I will strive to resist Delta’s fuzzy, fur-lined handcuffs (though clearly one wrist is already shackled), because if I’m unwilling to give my blind devotion to, say, organized religion, I probably shouldn’t give it to an airline.

Then again, if God offered airmiles . . .

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com