I have a dream…
July 23, 2008Of late, the budget airlines have started spamming customers a while before they are due to fly. I have had mailings from Easyjet, Ryanair and Sterling recently, all with helpful reminders of my flight times and such a few days before the trip.
Sometimes, though, they’re just weird in their offerings. Take the spam I had from Easyjet yesterday, for instance. I’m flying with them to Amsterdam next month (still another three weeks away, mind), and they were kind enough to let me know I could still spend more money with them if I cared to. The exact text (with all the emphasis their own) was as follows:
Imagine arriving at the airport, using a dedicated check-in with a shorter queue and getting through the gate first so you can all sit together….
Wouldn’t that be a more relaxing way to start your family holiday?
Yeah, that sounds alright. Nothing to get excited about, but if you have seventeen brats and an incontinent granny to haul onboard I suppose it makes sense. Luckily, I’m neither laden with sprogs nor lacking in bladder control; and since I’m only travelling on a 45 minute flight, should I be separated from my two companions for that heinous length of time I’m sure I’ll just about cope without having a nervous breakdown.
As a result, I went to click ‘delete’ immediately and forget all about it. But the following line caught my eye before I hit the button:
Don’t just dream it, do it.
Is that what passes for a dream on Easyjet these days? The idea that you might be able to spend an extra fifteen minutes on their stuffy, cramped plane in order to sit next to people you know on a short-haul flight (which, in my plebeian boarding experience, has never been a problem, anyway)?
The only legitimate copy this line could have preceded without incurring my immediate scorn is as follows:
Imagine not being charged extra to check in a bag which you can’t carry onboard because of legislation hoping to prevent terrorism mid-flight. Imagine not having to fly at 4am because you can’t afford a flight at a reasonable time. Imagine not having your eyes assaulted the entire flight by uniforms in a violent shade of orange usually only worn by clean-up workers at a nuclear power plant post-disaster. Imagine not having to pay extra to avoid a violent scrum at the gate when boarding opens. Imagine never having to go to Stansted or Luton fucking Airport ever, ever, EVER again.
Ah, the power of dreams…
I’ve got all that fun coming my way in September… Ryanair are the worst, constantly barking out raffle numbers and screeching at you to shut up. And my ears always pop leaving me in agony for a few hours.
Aaah, Ryanair… They lost points with me recently after a terrifying missed approach to the runway in Brno and rapid re-assent. But near-death none withstanding, they were pretty good.
I hate them for playing a fanfare throughout the cabin when their flight is on time, like that isn’t what we’ve paid for anyway. And the endless ringtone music and scratch card adverts. Jackasses.
at the risk of sounding like an eco- terrorist, i lived the dream recently when i took the train from london to amsterdam…
no luggage limitation, liquids allowed, no additional travel to and from an airport, reasonable travel times (10am outbound, 5pm inbound), allocated (and really goddamned comfortable) seating and not an offensive uniform in sight.
all in all it took 5 hours (normally it takes me 8 to get from where i used to live in london to friends or parents here) and cost 124 quid, pretty sweet if you consider i booked two days in advance.
once the connecting train from brussels to amsterdam improves i don’t think i’ll ever fly to london again.
Don’t worry about the bleeding heart environmentalist thing – if I didn’t suffer from an almost constant desire to travel coupled with a distinct lack of holiday days from work, I’d travel by train as much as I could. I genuinely love it. In fact, I recently travelled across Germany and the Czech Republic by train, and it was ace both times. I’ll be doing the same between Copenhagen and Hamburg later this year.
I totally blame my dad for my choo choo lust. He’s a train spotter, see.