8 Things I Hate About You — Flying That Is

Or how I learned to stop worrying and just hate the plane

I hate flying. Detest. Loathe. Abhor. Contemn. Experience deep revulsion of. And it’s not even the flying itself; it’s all the things that go with it and all the things that it’s become.

I just flew back to my homeland and almost missed my flight, making this a perfect time for this little, or not so little, listicle. Moreover, this sort of theme is perfect for the listicle format. So, a match made in Heaven, or Hell perhaps?

I almost missed through no fault of my own but thanks to all the harrowing elements that have become fixtures of flying in the twenty-first century.

You know how it goes:

Never received a single email confirming my flight nor any warning of how long reaching the gates for where this particular airline flies out of. No explanation as to why this was, just an ‘Oh, that’s unusual.’ No check-in through the app for some reason. Nightmare security. Gates are located far too far away with no heads-up as to how long getting to them may take.

No apologies after just barely making it and having seen the dreaded boarding now closed on the display, along with a number of other passengers I will add. And not only no apologies but instead a few jokes; ‘well, a little run is always good.’ I did not dignify this bullshit with a response. Running is great, but I’ll do it on my own terms and don’t make your shitness into a positive.

So, I made my flight, but not because of the airline and the staff at the airport, but in spite of them.

This isn’t even the first time I’ve written a piece after an airport experience. Here’s the last one, although it goes in a very different direction than today’s little listicle.

Without further waffle, eight things I hate about flying.

1. Security

You may stop a few lunatics and a few terrorists but I doubt you’ll stop the most ardent from achieving their crazed objectives. You just won’t.

You will, however, turn airports into mini police states where people are reduced to the status of cattle with their rights playthings for the infernal demons of the skies.

So, now it’s okay to treat us like farmyard animals and cattle-prod us into submission, all in the name of our own safety and survival?

This is why I have to remove my shoes and belt. Oh, the flimsy little cap too?

The laptop? Out of my bag? But of course.

This tiny tube of cream? It’s too much of a liability to let through? God forbid.

The small blocks of cheddar cheese? Do you want to inspect them a little more? I could have melted them down to hide something inside them. Are you a fuckin’ idiot or are you fuckin’ insane? It’s one or the other.

And you’ve done me the wonderous favour of tagging my bags for extra inspection because of a guitar tuner? Oh, but of course.

And … . And … . You all know yourselves.

Airport security has become a purgatory where all our sins are tallied up and everything slows down, apart from the flight you need to catch until the gods deem us deserving of passing on to the other side.

It would try the patience of … well, whatever you care to dream up.

2. Queues/Lines

If you’re gonna be slow, then we better be tough — the unwritten motto of airports around the world.

I feel for airport staff even when they don’t feel for us. Covid meant that most all good staff were let go because airports wouldn’t fork out to support them during the lockdowns.

Now, there is a massive dearth of employees, and the ones that remain are, more often than not, the least bright of the bunch.

In Dublin, I saw a number of staff signal to a large group of people in wheelchairs to come on through to the top of the queue for the luggage check. Of course, why not? Who would object to such a thing?

The staff then proceeded to block up four lanes as they processed each of the group, one at a time. This lasted until a more experienced member of staff shouted over, exacerbation all over her face, ‘No, just take them one at a time in the one lane!’ Nuts.

In Madrid, the other day, one woman presiding over the gates into the baggage check shut everything down whilst looking around dazed and dazzled for no apparent reason whatsoever. Realising her mistake, she quickly turned it back on again. Don’t shut it down for mere caprice. We’re all trying to get through, none of us want to be here; if you shut it down, there best be a proper reason.

Of course, it’s the airport authorities who are to blame. They’re understaffed because they treat their workers like crap and won’t pay them properly. So, we get understaffed security and a whole lot of greenhorns who are desperately out of their depth.

And don’t forget — that’s the real motto of airports everywhere — If we’re gonna be dumb, then you better be tough!

3. Paring down to infinity

Before Covid, low-cost airlines were already heavily stripped-down affairs. Travelling with Ryan Air, with all the bright colours, cheap plastic, and absolute absence of really anything that looked like it could even be in McDonald’s, made me feel like I was in the parents’ viewing area of the tackiest indoor playground you could imagine and not at all like I was in a large, sturdy and sophisticated contraption that was going to go up very high and hurtle through the air at 500mph.

Now, they don’t even have seat-back pockets. They just have some little flap, like that little flap on the shittest pants you own, to give the appearance of a pocket without any of the substance of a pocket.

Admittedly, these are among the dirtiest of places on a plane, but to do without them altogether, that’s greasy, real greasy, to quote Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys.

You have to pay for pretty much everything too now. Not even a bread roll; you’ll be lucky if you get a glass of water.

I imagine that eventually we’ll just be strapped into some giant catapult, strapped in and hurled thousands of miles to our destination with a chance that some of us may survive the trip.

4. The food

Credit where credit is due. Etihad and the like are good for food. You pay through the nose to fly with them, so I suppose it should be.

As for the mid-range and low-cost, they’re scoundrels and shysters of the highest order.

Low-cost — no food, you’re not getting any. Forget about that little pipedream; ‘Oh, Icarus, fly not too close to the Sun.’

Mid-range — well, I had to take four flights, two there and two back, with one formerly somewhat-reputable company — the same fuckin’ bread roll with a sickly sliver of cheese whose soul had been broken many moons ago on every single trip without fail. God in Heaven.

Imagine a band with the gall to keep on playing the same song to its audience or a standup telling the same joke ad infinitum? I will say that I respect the nerve to serve up the same stupid dismembered sandwich and not bat an eyelid, whilst reviling everything else about the human that dreamed up this abomination.

5. My water story about Air Baltic

And yes, I’m naming names. Why not, who gives a bollocks? What are they going to do, not give me water again?

This happened some years ago and I’m fairly sure it’s in contravention of EU law.

I was on an Air Baltic flight making my way home. I wanted a glass of water, the indulgent creature that I am. I was told that they don’t give out any glasses of water. I looked at her for a second to size up what I was hearing.

You don’t give out free water?

No, but you can buy a bottle of water.

But I can’t drink for free?

No.

What if I was dying of thirst or some sickness?

Well, you don’t look like you’re dying.

So, the only way I can drink for free is if I drink from the bathroom tap?

I don’t advise you to do that.

I think this is against EU law.

I’m not sure about that.

Okay, I’ll buy a bottle of water then.

For some reason, my card didn’t work. Another passenger was looking on in what I can only presume was bewilderment and pity. He ended up buying me a bottle of water so I could have a drink.

A passenger had to buy me a bottle of water because the flight staff would not give me a glass of water and my card wouldn’t work to buy one of their hallowed and aforementioned bottles of water. That’s the worst I’ve ever seen in terms of how non-frilly a no-frills airline will allow themselves to sink.

That’s my Air Baltic story. Fuck Air Baltic and gratitude to that fine gent who bought me a bottle when I really needed it.

6. Adding on to take away

The horror. The horror. Why are you asking me so many questions and why are you presuming that I want the most expensive insurance possible? And why do I need to insure for things that should simply be covered by virtue of the fact that I’m buying a ticket and I’m a human being?

Oh, so many things to go through to make sure you haven’t accidentally been signed up for nose-hair insurance and oh so many questions about things no one could give a toss about, apart from the fact that they will be charged if they don’t check every nook and cranny.

7. The Devil’s in the details

The flight costs 258 euro. Okay, that’s not too bad. I don’t need that. I don’t want that. I’m not even sure what that is but I know I don’t want it. So, with everything it will be 287 euro. That’s ok. Boom. Done.

335 euro! How did that happen? What’s that? Service charge plus this extra another thing!? Why in the good name of all the mighty gods of Valhalla did you not say that at the start? Would a modicum of honesty kill you? Yes, it would? Oh, my sincere apologies, I’ll go and get my card.

8. The rage and the fury

Being treated like a mound of meat to be managed and manhandled makes you become more like a seething, fuming mound of meat. It brings the worst out in you and you have to do the utmost to not become that bestial creature that haunts the dark catacombs of your soul. And if you crack, then you look like a little wickedly-entitled Napoleon shouting at some poor person who likely doesn’t deserve it (sometimes they definitely do, let’s be honest).

It brings the worst out in humankind and drags us down to the level of a battle royale, with all pitted against all in a crucible for survival.

I keep my cool, more or less, for the most part, and use humour when and where necessary. But often the wheels simply don’t spin for the meek and the mild and a little fire is called for. And I hate that that gets things done. This is the epitome of a perverse incentive — if they only listen to those who shout the loudest, well, guess what, people are going to start shouting.

Good systems raise individuals up to a higher level of humanity: bad systems make them worse and only serve to bring out the bad and the base.

Have a guess which sort of system airport management is?

Well, that’s all folks.

Yours grimacing and with dyspeptic gallbladder rage (haha, not really, or not fully),

Harold De Gauche