Air Rage

Sunday, November 9th, 2008

This is supposed to be a fairly new phenomenon and if you believe the media, it is entirely down to the passengers. Jeremy Clarkson put it down to the denial of smoking and he may have a point but I do not think it is as simple as that. His conclusion may be nothing more than a chronological coincidence.

I have been flying almost 40 years and witnessed the remorseless decline in both customer service and passenger behaviour and of the latter, I too am guilty. Airline adverts portray blissful people gliding through the skies (always in business class seats) and being served luxurious food and drink by glamorous trolley dollies. And you know and I know, that in reality, it is shite. OK, I have become used to travelling Business Class these past few years so the seats are usually good. The food is reasonably well presented but the taste is generally no better than the works canteen - in Economy/Coach, well for the most part, pigs are better fed. And I have bought better wine at my local supermarket for no more than £5 a bottle. Plus the fact that the reds are always too cold

Service? Well at it's best, it can be excellent but normally it's poor and at the bottom, it cannot be described as service at all - some peroxide old hag chucking peanuts at you. Oh sorry, such is the paranoia over nuts today, that it's more likely to be mini pretzels which are cheaper anyway.

Yes, yes, I know a few do it quite well like Thai but I am talking generally here.

But back to air rage. It doesn't start in the air, it starts on the ground, a time when you can still nip outside for nicotine refreshment. You stand in line and watch the process of checking in. Dear God it's no quicker today than it was 40 years ago. Despite computers, it's no different. 17 members of an Asian family trying to check in 27 packages weighing 2 tonnes, the guy without a ticket who doesn't speak English, someone with a Cambodian passport wanting to fly to Buenos Aires via Tokyo and Vladivostok and that Norwegian blonde girl (I remember her well) insisting that her bicycle should be classed as cabin baggage.

And so eventually you get to the check-in counter and what do you see? A row of seemingly bored and disinterested old farts behind which are another row of staff scurrying around doing absolutely bugger all. You hand over your ticket and passport and wait while the entire book of Genesis is typed into some computer to confirm your booking - and here I am talking about when it all goes well. I've done all this shit on line and it only takes a minute, if that.

And so to security and x-ray. Passport and boarding card checked 11 times. Stand in line behind some old biddy who has already lost her passport in the 10 feet since the last check or the teenager swigging coke to the bitter end and quite oblivious to the 'no liquids' policy. And just when you think, 'I'm next', a wheelchair races past you, its passenger comfortably esconced, and it takes pole position. It's as bad as Disneyworld.

No consistency on the 'belts and shoes off or on' policy, x-ray machines that one day pick up a safety pin and the next day disregard your pocket hand grenade and again the inevitable boarding pass and passport presentation. If you are lucky, that's it: if you are not, then another thorough search of the minutae of your life. Meanwhile, you spot a bearded guy with a tea towel on his head and a brown paper package under his arm just sailing through all the checks.

And wow, you are in the terminal at last. Well I am lucky for if I am using the Flying Blue consortium, I go to the lounge where they at least make a pretence of kissing my arse. But if I was out on my own, I'd be wandering around trying to find a clean table in a bar, cafe or restaurant and stripping stark naked in the hope of gaining a waitress's attention. Is it any wonder that people get pissed out of their minds before boarding?

And then there is the boarding call and you know the dilemma. Move off right away and stand/sit around for ages while bugger all is happening. Delay and when you get aboard, American businessmen have filled the overhead lockers with luggage far greater in size than you have checked into the hold. And as you stand there, you watch the happy moms & dads with able-bodied brats go ahead of you. And yet one more boarding card and passport check and you just might get aboard to your tiny grimy little seat with no leg room and a tattered in-flight magazine. Behind you is an asshole who thinks the only way to secure a tray table is to slam it into the back of your seat and across the aisle is some screaming kid who should have been smacked soundly for the last 3 years.

Finally, you are cheerfully told that having rushed you in here, the flight has been delayed for at least one hour because some cat has been sick on the runway at Newark. Oh let's be serious, it is usually the weather. Didn't they know about the bloody weather before they boarded you? You'd like to think the pilot had some idea at least.

Can you watch the in flight entertainment while you wait? No way! You are going to have to sit tight and shut up.

So is it any wonder, after all this crap, that tempers begin to fray? Nicotine would be a small palliative but that is all. And all the while, you know the airline staff just don't give a shit and your baggage is well on its way to Tibet.