© UnknownRuinair
Our scheduled boarding time passes quite uneventfully. Growing mumblings of discontent and half-truths circulate like gossip. There is an aircraft outside so there's hope, but it has technical problems. The screens show "Retrasado". This is Spanish for "Your aircraft is broken". We wait in a void of customer service.
One brave passenger walks up to the desk and comes back holding up 10 fingers. We will board in 10 minutes? He announces: "Delayed until 10 o'clock tonight." Eight hours late. An engineer is flying out.
I recall the head of the airline, Mick, saying: "If a plane is cancelled, will we put you up in a hotel? Absolutely not. If a plane is delayed, will we give you a voucher for a restaurant? Absolutely not." I paid €300 plus taxes for this trip.
There is utter incredulity from four Americans who have lost all faith in European air travel. Airline credibility is like virginity. You can only lose it once. There are two Spaniards who can go home, eat, sleep, shop, clean, procreate and still return in time to depart.
We sit near the departure screens. In the past I have looked at these screens and gained much amusement from various charter airlines' delays of not hours, but days or weeks. Our flight is top of the list with a now nine-hour delay. Others pass by and smile over at us. Today the joke is on us.
Somehow I survive nine hours in the terminal. You can only read the small print on the reverse side of your boarding card so many times. I visit every shop 10 times, doze, read all known English-language newspapers, down fries and Cokes, but still there are aeons to kill until departure.
At a time like this I harp back to Mick and his wise words: "An aeroplane is nothing more than a bus with wings on. Are we trying to blow up the notion that flying is some kind of orgasmic experience rather than a glorified bus service? Yes, we are." Success.
We are drawn to the gate like moths to a flame as midnight approaches. A few Irish guys are drunk and enter the Ladies by mistake. Inside, naked sunburnt babies are bathed in the hand basins by irate mothers. Passengers lie on the floor, their energy levels as depleted as their mobile telephone batteries.
We prepare to board but there is mass confusion. Some of us have yellow fluorescent pen Ps handwritten on our boarding cards. We think it means Priority. Others behind in the scrum ask if anyone has a yellow pen they can use.
On board it's clear some passengers are well and truly hammered, having spent nine hours in the airport bar knocking back rounds of San Miguel. "Same again." A guy sitting in the emergency-exit aisle is swapped by Gavin the cabin supervisor with another passenger, because he's too drunk to do anything in the event of an emergency, save a burp and stagger. He carries a plastic beaker of beer with him as he rises to move seats.
The crew say nothing. He takes the proffered seat and asks Gavin for a Heineken. Gavin tells him to wait until we are airborne.
We get a vague explanation from the pilot. It's something to do with the "data management" system. So that's okay. It's not like it's important or anything, like a wheel, an engine or a wing.
The in-flight service is uneventful save for the resentment of the Americans. When it is announced there are drinks and snacks available for purchase, they exclaim to Gavin, "You're kidding. Ten hours on the ground and you don't even give us a goddamn cup of water?"
They have not heard Mick's proclamation: "No, we shouldn't give you a bloody cup of coffee. We only charge €19 for the ticket." One of the Americans is creative and asks the crew, "Do you have ice cubes? Can you give me a cup of ice? You don't charge for ice?" They deny his request. As Mick says about this unique low-fares travel experience: "You want luxury? Go somewhere else."
Flights that depart late often arrive on time because airlines brazenly lie about journey times. Not this time.
We land in Dublin at 1am local time on the next day. We had religious education classes at school where a Holy Ghost priest educated us on the concept of eternity. He told us to think of time as a grain of sand and then add all the grains in the world together to gain a concept of eternity. Now I know I need additionally to include the delay on this flight to fully comprehend eternity.
I crave a feeble revenge of sorts. I don't hold out much hope, but I craft a stroppy letter.
Customer ServiceI am amazed to receive a reply the very next day by e-mail. It must be all the practice they get.
Ruinair Ltd
Dublin Airport
Dear Sirs,
I had the great misfortune to travel on FR7043 from Malaga to Dublin where our departure time was delayed by 10 hours. Can you advise me of the exact reason for this delay since all we got was the usual vague explanation?
Can you explain why no information was given to us at any time by any of your staff and why do you have zero staff located at Malaga airport? Why was it necessary to fly an engineer all the way out from Dublin when surely you could use local contractors?
Can you explain the utterly chaotic boarding process? Can you advise why inebriated passengers were allowed to board the flight; and do you now allow passengers to bring their own drinks on board direct from the terminal bar?
Lastly, please confirm you will reimburse me for my meal in the airport and the extra day's car parking. If I had paid €10 for this return flight, I wouldn't bother with this letter, but I paid a whopping €300, which isn't so wonderfully low-fares after all.
Yours etc,
Disgusted of Dublin
Dear Mr Kilduff,Mick knows how best to describe this carefully worded, cut and pasted, utterly useless reply since he has coined a choice expletive to be used by his airline in one-to-one print media interviews to describe any simple procedure which other airlines claim to be complex. Mick's word is Bolloxology.
Thank you for your letter. We regret any inconvenience caused. Regrettably, on the day in question, your flight developed a technical fault on arrival at Malaga. Unfortunately, the local engineer advised that a part was required for the aircraft and it was necessary to transport the part from our service centre in Dublin. Despite our rigorous maintenance standards, technical problems occasionally arise and may cause delays.
I do sincerely regret that our sequential boarding policy was not adhered to by the agents at Malaga . . . This lapse in policy will be taken up with our agents at Malaga.
We have strict guidelines for the carriage of passengers who are under the influence of alcohol. Our in-flight personnel are particularly vigilant and tactful in relation to passengers who, although creating no disturbance, may have been drinking prior to departure and such passengers are monitored throughout the flight.
I do assure you, had it been visible to the crew that passengers were consuming their own alcohol, it would have been confiscated.
As you may appreciate, we are a very efficient low-fare airline and whilst we pride ourselves upon not charging extortionate fares that many of our competitors do, our low fares do not permit us to meet consequential expenses of passengers who may on rare occasions be inconvenienced. In this regard, I regret that we are not in a position to accede to your request for reimbursement.
I do hope that despite your dissatisfaction etc, etc, blah, blah . . .
Yours sincerely,
For and on Behalf of Ruinair Limited
Extracted from Ruinair by Paul Kilduff (Collins £7.99). To buy the book for the reduced price of £7.59, with free p&p in the UK, call The Sunday Times BooksFirst on 0845 271 2135
I stopped flying Ryanair 2 years ago as I was getting increasingly annoyed with there charging policy. They stopped short of charging for using airport toilets, if you come to think of it, but who knows for how long. Let me just mention check-in fee (nobody else charges for using check-in!), no sharing of luggage allowance in families, changing luggage rules without announcement and without allowing people who booked, paid and started their flights under the old rules to also return under them, so many airport luggage shops did a roaring trade... it just has no end. I refused to be insulted all the way for having to count my pennies, so now I go by coach to visit my family in Germany - from London.