It wouldn't be a travel essay by yours truly if it didn't start with an airline, hotel, or car rental rant -- and this is a travel essay by yours truly.

I am hereby giving the title of Worst Airline Ever to Mesa Airlines. (This title was held for many years by Northwest, but in the past two or three years they have improved so much that I really don't think twice about flying with them.) Mesa Airlines runs the regional commuter traffic for many larger airlines including United (United Express operated by Mesa Airlines), US Airways (US Airways Express operated by Mesa Airlines), and America West (America West Express operated by Mesa Airlines).

I recall from back when I used to fly into DC or Baltimore on US Airways, either through Pittsburgh or Philadelphia, that I would dread having one of the legs flown by US Airways Express since they were invariably inconsiderate, disorganized, and outright rude. Now I see it is endemic to the entire airline.

My flights were on America West between Detroit and Phoenix and America West Express (operated by Mesa Airlines) between Phoenix and Tucson. The flights between Detroit and Phoenix aboard proper airplanes run by a proper airline were acceptable, especially since America West has an excellent policy on inexpensive first-class upgrades which I didn't hesitate to take advantage of -- so worth it for any flight over three hours. It was the commuter flights between Phoenix and Tucson, which involved all of 22 minutes of flight time, that Mesa managed to bollocks up beyond all reason.

From Phoenix to Tucson, we started by being delayed without notice. At the gate departure was shown as "on-time" all the way up until ten minutes before the flight, at which point it changed to read "boarding" which it continued to read as we passengers anxiously sat in the terminal for a good ten minutes beyond departure time, asking each other if anyone heard anything. Finally, a harried and extremely gay man announced that they were looking for a supervisor to do some thing or another before they would be able to board the flight.

Aside: Some passengers were expressing displeasure about this situation to the gay man in question. That is a bad idea for two reasons. First, broad based venting to airline employees does no good. They have your money. They have their routes. They probably can do nothing for you anyway except offer platitudes in return. And if you don't like that they will tell TSA you threatened them and soon you will be lamenting the loss of your personal body space. Second -- and this does not just apply to airlines, this is a good rule for life -- you should never EVER piss off a gay man who has punitive authority over you. There will be no mercy. Luckily for the complainers the gay man was relieved by an aggressive, barrel-shaped Hispanic woman; less dangerous, but equally intransigent.

Finally we boarded the plane only to get an announcement that the a/c was malfunctioning at the moment but should be fine once we are off the ground. That would have been OK if we then proceeded to get off the ground, which we did not. In fact we sat in the sweltering desert heat, in a packed commuter sized airplane for a good solid half hour, with no explanation as to why we were waiting. Someone claimed that the reason we were waiting was that they were having trouble transferring some bags, which prompted the woman across the aisle from me to point out that she could see her bags on the tarmac outside the window and there were three baggage jockeys standing around them but no one was putting them on the plane. This situation was actually quite dangerous. The interior temperature had to be touching triple digits with no air circulation at all. If any passenger had been susceptible to heart attack or heat stroke, Mesa Airlines would have been on the wrong end of a savagely ugly lawsuit.

After a time the flight attendants came around with bottles of water, which would have been nice except that they were hot from sitting out on the runway for so long. Not just unchilled, and not just lukewarm; they were hot. The woman sitting next to me asked if she could have a tea bag.

As for me, I had to keep calling the spa in Tucson to let them know of further delays. Each time they asked what the new expected arrival time was and I had no answer to give them. Then net result was about three hours torture for the sake of a 22 minute flight.

On the way back it wasn't quite that bad, but it did make clear the consummate incompetence of Mesa Airlines. We (the passengers) were given ample warning that there was a storm in the area and when there is the likelihood of lightning within 5 miles they were forbidden refuel the plane. They would keep us updated on the situation. Fair enough.

The next update came from a different person who told us that they still couldn't refuel because they were forbidden to do so when there was lightning within 10 miles, but as soon as they were able to refuel they would get us boarded. A number of passengers wondered out loud whether it was 5 miles or 10 miles, but question was not answered. In time, we boarded the plane only to be told by the pilot that they couldn't refuel until lighting moved beyond 5 miles from the plane, which they said would already be the case before they let us board. It was another fifteen or twenty minutes of sitting at the gate before we could leave.

A passenger can only assume that:

• Someone was arbitrarily making up the safe distance from lightning.
• Someone was making up the story about boarding the plane after the lighting threat had passed, probably just to shut us up.
• Someone felt we would be more comfortable waiting for the lightning to pass all scrunched up in our commuter plane seats rather than in the terminal where we could walk around and breathe.

Now, contrast that with the real flight on the real airline from Phoenix back to Detroit. We boarded on time, but a mechanical problem was discovered that required a maintenance worker go get a part from somewhere. I knew this because the pilot came on the intercom and told us exactly what was going on. Ten minutes later, the pilot came on again to tell us that it was going to be another half hour-ish so if we would like to go wait in the relatively more comfortable terminal or maybe get a bite to eat we could and they would call us back when things are ready.

Weather and mechanical problems are going to happen. I've traveled enough to know that. The difference between a proper airline and a hack airline is how they handle them. At Mesa Airlines, the only thing they care about is that you go away and not make them think. If your plane is late you don't need to know why or how or even when you can expect to leave, you don't need to be considered in any way. You just need to accept that they will eventually get you to your destination because they really just want to make you go away. That's enough for you; thank you for flying Mesa.

I do not know how or why US Airways, America West, and United continue to contract with Mesa for these services. Perhaps they are just cheaper. But I can guarantee that Mesa is doing grave damage to their service reputations.

But I spent a week at a spa in the desert. Let me tell you about it.

It would be difficult to find two service experiences more diametrically opposed than flying Mesa Airlines and staying at Miraval, Life in Balance Resort and Spa. A friendly fellow was waiting at the baggage carousel with my name printed on a placard. He carried my bags to a shuttle and gave me a bottle of water -- cold water -- and drove me in air conditioned comfort to the resort. By the time we arrived it was pouring rain, so he retrieved an umbrella and held it for me so I would not get wet on my three step walk from the shuttle to the main lobby.

After I checked in, he backed a golf cart carrying my bags practically inside the lobby so I could get in without stepping into the rain, and then, after a brief trip across the grounds to my room, produced yet another umbrella to get me to my room without getting soaked because the golf cart wouldn't fit through the doorway. How the guy managed to carry two good sized pieces of luggage while holding an umbrella over my head and simultaneously unlocking the door to my room is beyond me. This is the kind of thing that would have normally had me peeling an Andrew Jackson out of my wallet as a tip, but there's no tipping at Miraval. Somehow, "thanks so much" seemed wholly inadequate.

Veteran readers will recall my description of my trip to Canyon Ranch Spa last year. Miraval has many similarities; I'll draw a closer comparison later on. The key thing you are getting at these places is care. You are being taken care of. You put your cell phone, your wallet, your keys, and your laptop in the safe when you arrive; you don't need them. You don't need to whip out a credit card for payment or a license for ID. You don't need to remember to bring your shaving kit to the spa. You don't need remember an umbrella because they are sitting their waiting for you at every entrance to any building. If you want to take a photography class they will provide a camera and film, you just show up. If you want to go on a nature hike, they'll provide packs and water and binoculars, you just show up. You find yourself waking up in the morning trying to think of all the things you have to do to get ready and then realizing there aren't any. So you go back to sleep for another hour. Or you slip on your bathing suit and go sleep by the pool for an hour.

The notion of service has a whole new meaning here. When I discovered the batteries for my camera had run out, and I didn't bring my recharger, and the gift shop didn't carry what I needed, they sent someone into town to Walgreen's to fix me up. You are now operating in the service stratosphere. At this level, your first instinct is to feel guilty at being treated so well. Don't worry, you'll get over it.

Miraval is located in the outskirts of Tucson within easy striking distance of the Santa Catalina Mountains, which also happen to provide a lovely view in every direction you look. The grounds are beautifully landscaped, with a certain desert-style plushness to them. There is water flowing all around, splashing over rocks or settling in ponds. Pathways seem to wander aimlessly among the various buildings. A bird-watcher or naturalist could probably content themselves with nothing more than the flora and fauna on the resort grounds. The place is replete with trees, cacti, birds, and reptiles of an amazing variety; easily viewed since they have little fear of humans, they don't run away until they sense you're about to reach out and touch them. Hummingbird feeders are set up outside just about every window. Koi swim about in the calmer waters.

There are three largish buildings -- the largest building includes the lobby and restaurant with both indoor and outdoor seating, a snack bar, a large den like area for sitting and reading or connecting to the web, and a lounge with full bar (open from 4-10pm) and a fine wine list. Across a path is another building housing the spa and pools. This is as fine a place to hang around as you will find. Here is where you will have your spa services or sit in a comfy lounge chair and cook your skin to a delicious golden brown. Cross another path and you come to the gym which has a decent selection of workout machinery, a couple of aerobic rooms and a lap pool. Lastly there is a building tucked off in the corner of the resort solely used for quieter activities -- yoga, meditation, etc. All the other buildings are complexes of guest rooms, or casitas -- all rooms have a private entrance and each complex is arranged in a square with a landscaped courtyard in the middle. If you've never been to a destination spa, it is exactly what you have pictured in your imagination or seen in a magazine.

Miraval is not a good place to go if you're looking to lose weight. The food is delicious, and there is lots of it available. If you have the self-control to confine yourself to breakfast lunch and dinner in standard portions without taking advantage of the wine list or desserts, you may shed a pound or two. But there is always food around to tempt you. The snack bar in the main building is open all day. The snack bar by the pool is open through most of the day. There is a big, tasty cheese platter set out in the bar every night. Come to think of it, if you don't exercise self-control you'll probably pork out a bit, but in a healthy, spa-type way, so that's OK, right?

In addition to being plentiful, the food is very good. You get three squares a day in the restaurant; breakfast and lunch feature a buffet and a couple of options of whatever the chef whipped up; mix and match as you like. No buffet on the dinner menu, but this is where things get creative. Interestingly the meal options are listed by the starch/vegetable. For example, you might see Turnip Truffle Puree with Braised Swiss Chard & Tomato Fennel Broth, then, as you read the extended description you'll see it is served with Roast Cervena Venison. It runs counter to how dishes are normally presented (e.g. Roast Cervena Venison with Turnip and Truffle Puree...), and I'm not sure of the reasoning other than to assume it is because you could substitute any meat portion you want. The waitstaff claim it's because "Chef likes to do it that way..." There you go. Standard fare such as sirloin and roast chicken are always available for those feeling less adventurous. For that matter, they will almost certainly prepare anything you want as long as they have the ingredients. Drinks are served after 4pm. Or you could do what I did for dinner a couple of nights, which was hang by the pool as late as possible while scarfing down the miniature wrap sandwiches and little pasta salads available at the poolside snack bar, then have my own little personal wine and cheese tasting in the bar for dinner. The possibilities are endless, but don't come here expecting to dry out or slim down.

Not surprisingly, most people who go to a spa make heavy use of the spa proper. The array of services offered is mind blowing. You can find the most esoteric, unpronounceable, new age treatment designed to spark your inner something or other, or you could have a brutal deep tissue massage that shreds every muscle and ligament until you really start looking forward to it stopping. Or you could get a pedicure. Let me state unashamedly that I have had enough spa services in my life to know what I like (no, I have not had a pedicure, don't go there), but in the interest of trying something new I decided to have needles stuck in me.

I was a little surprised that in acupuncture, the technical term for the having needles stuck in you is needling. No clever euphemism like "hypodermic therapy". Acupuncture gets honesty points for that. Still, I have to say I'm going to pass on any future acupuncture. In my hour-long session a good half of it was taken up with chatter about my life and my personality. This is in an effort to better understand the energy force that flows through my being, called my chi. I can only assume chi translates to caffeine. Once the therapist, or needler, has a sense for the imbalances in your chi, she knows where to stick the needles in you. The needles are wispy-thin jobbies that you barely notice piercing you skin. They are twisted and turned until you feel a little twinge, almost like a tickle, at which point they are left in state for a few minutes. After a while of this, time is up and your may be given an herb regimen to follow.

Now I realize that acupuncture is a process, and you'll never feel anything after a single session. I also know of people who are almost completely aspiritual, yet swear by acupuncture. But I am afraid I am hopelessly grounded in the rational and scientific and if I want to be needled, I'll go out with my friends. It's not for me.

What is for me is getting massaged. There are two types of massage I like, one is called Thai massage. Unlike other forms of massage, in Thai massage one fully clothed (both parties) and instead of a padded table you are on a large mattress on the floor. Thai is a combination of deep tissue, gentle pressure, and, most importantly, assisted stretching. It is sometimes called "lazy man's yoga," but that's very inaccurate in my view. Combining the massage with a deep extended stretch really makes it perfect for when you have severely sore muscles from, say, sitting by the pool all day.

Another type of massage that works for me, and one I would highly recommend for anyone getting their first massage, is a Hot Stone massage. This is basically a Swedish massage -- long strokes, not too deep -- but instead of fingers, the therapist uses hot flat stones and plenty of oil to easy the motion. The heat of the stones really intensifies the relaxing effect. You can easily get yourself fully zoned out in this one as long as wearing nothing but a strategically positioned towel doesn't freak you out.

The thing to do when you have a massage scheduled is get yourself all worn out ahead of time. Physical activity to the point where you are in one of those I-can't-lift-my-arms-or-take-another-step-and-I-just-want-to-lie-in-bed-and-moan-like-a-pathetic-sop states. That's when you get to the spa -- when you are too drained and sore to consider making any sort of effort and you just go limp and give yourself over to the massage.

There are plenty of ways to get yourself exhausted at Miraval including hikes and mountain bike jaunts. There is also a full schedule of exercise classes, and personal trainers are at the ready to count your reps in gym. My minor adventure in fitness involved a session with a trainer using a device called the Pilates Reformer, which looks like a medieval torture device. It has a sliding pad on which you sit or lay and you struggle against your own body weight and some combination of resistance springs. Although this seems like standard strength training, the difference is that you are not stabilized through many of the exercises. Instead of doing a biceps curl with your feet on the solidly floor and your arms against your sides, you are on your knees, with your arms extended forward and as you resist the weight, the sliding platform is actually moving so you end up expending a lot of effort just to keep stable enough to complete the exercise. I was sore in places I didn't know existed, like the outsides of my forearms and the backs of my rib cage. It's too bad this equipment is so expensive that you can't easily do this regularly without taking out a small mortgage to cover trainer fees.

Another set of activities that are prominent at Miraval are referred to as "challenge activities." These are obstacle course style proceedings, usually involving balancing precariously at heights of 25 feet or more. Often this kind of stuff is done at corporate retreats to foster teamwork and communication, thinking outside the box, and stealing cheese. The challenge I took was called Quantum Leap. In Quantum Leap, you climb what is essentially a telephone pole, then try to pull yourself up and stand balanced on top of it, after which you leap off. Yes, you are belayed the entire time so there is no danger of falling, but while your rational mind may readily acknowledge that, your instincts down to the cellular level tell you that you are going to fall to your death.

The climbing the pole part isn't bad. It's fairly easy actually, if you have ever done wall-climbing or even played on the monkey bars as a child. But once you get up there you realize that there really is no easy way to get your feet solidly planted on the top, you have to sort of stand and balance simultaneously. The top has got to be about 15 inches in diameter and there is, well, let's just call it an unexpected circumstance to deal with. Seriously, this is not a trivial challenge. I was in a group of five taking turns at this, and there was endless loud rhythmic breathing as the subjects attempted to calm themselves between dejected attempts to quit and tears of anxiety (no, not by me, thanks for asking), but everybody eventually made it.

Histrionics aside, the majority of my time was taken up sitting by the pool. This pool to be precise. It's a very odd sensation for a busy person to stop and chill. Your first thought is "I can't do this," then, "OK, maybe just for few minutes," then, "Glad I have another hour before my Pilates class," then, "Can't they do something about the changing position of the sun? I have to shift the chair every half hour." Small things, such as the birds and flowers and insects around the pool start to take on an odd fascination. Watching a spider perched on the pool's edge and wondering whether someone will create a wave to swamp it becomes a kind of hypnotic theatre. A light cloudburst in the afternoon causes you to ruminate on why it's so terrible to get caught in the rain after all. Gee, I'm already half-way through this book; better stop and take a nap, so I don't run out of reading material -- that's the kind of stuff you think about.

The last thing I will say in praise of Miraval may actually be more in praise of my timing. Summer is off-season. Makes sense, given this is the desert southwest just a stones throw from Old Mexico. But the fact is, the heat is just not that bad. Yeah, it's triple-digit highs every day, but so what? You make sure that in the afternoon you are in an air-conditioned classroom or by the pool where you can just hop in and cool off. The mornings are fine, and if you are from the East you are time-shifted such that morning is your mid-afternoon anyway. Plus, like I said before, late-July/August is monsoon season, meaning you will likely have a nice rain storm come late afternoon or early evening to really cool things off. In return, you get significantly reduced rates and a resort that's about half full. Fun fact: Miraval doesn't much reduce its staff or class schedule in the off-season. You just get a much larger staff/guest ratio. I don't think there were ever more than ten other people around the pool. There was never more than one other person in the lap pool. Never more than five people in any activity I tried. There is a huge whirlpool in the men's locker room, it could probably hold twelve people in relative comfort, and it is situated next to a picture window so you can sit back with a beautiful view of the Santa Catalinas. I went there every day before dinner and each time I had it all to myself. Clearly, high summer is the best time to go. Sometimes it pays to be a contrary SOB.

Still all is not perfect in Miraval; and at this point you're going to have to indulge my petty complaints because when you are in the service stratosphere, there is only the petty to complain about. For example, the men's locker room is stocked with all sorts of shaving and hair products, but deodorant is omitted for some reason (it's in the soap, after all). The sandals they give you to wear around could be more comfortable. Uh, let's see...the cable went out for a few minutes during a late night thunderstorm and I was forced to listen to the Bose Wave Radio they have in every room.

Probably the biggest thing that I found troublesome about Miraval is the way the painfully sincere New Age outlook infuses everything. Before and after the challenge activities you are often prodded to discuss your emotions and talk about you fears or what you've learned. I didn't really learn anything except that you can really put a wet blanket over a fun activity by examining the psycho-social implications. But this isn't really a mistake or oversight on the part of Miraval - it's intentional, it's their philosophy.

Which gets me to the promised comparison between Miraval and Canyon Ranch-Tucson (it should be noted that Canyon Ranch is a significantly larger operation). To wit:

Interestingly, Conde Nast Traveler Magazine rated Miraval tops, fractionally above Canyon Ranch-Tucson. So which should you pick? I don't know. I am one of the most opinionated people in the history of Homo Sapiens and couldn't tell you which one was better. If you're looking to get in shape and lose weight go to Canyon Ranch. If you want total relaxation and killer comestibles go to Miraval. Anything in between, I just don't know.

What I do know is both places will offer you the opportunity to do things you don't normally do. And that should be your goal. In addition to escape, you should take the opportunity to try something new. Even if it doesn't work out so well (like me getting needled). Even if it's something you can't imagine you would find interesting. Don't overanalyze it, don't worry about failure. The worst thing that comes out of it is that you have a story to tell. That's the real secret of these places -- eliminating the mundane details and allowing you to clear the way for new experiences. If there is anything truly life altering here, it's getting you practice in doing things just for the sake of the experience, good or bad.

(Unless it's flying on Mesa Airlines. Some experiences just aren't worth the story.)