Hoppin to Dublin

A SHORT HOP BUT A MERRY ONE Girona to Dublin with Ryanair It must be hard being Ryanairs CEO, the hyper-entrepreneurial Michael OLeary, described as arrogant, abrasive and abusive (and thats just the a-words). It must be hard, too, being a member of Ryanairs cabin or ground crew. For all the wonderful achievement of the airline in bringing low-cost flying to millions in Europe and to scores of regional and under-utilised airports (Girona to Cochstedt, Karlstad, Kristianstad, Plovdiv, Rzeszow, Szczecin, Skelleftea or Tallinn, anyone?), the Irish airline finds it hard to win friends. You cant deny the huge benefits to tourists that Ryanairs model has brought and as an occasional visitor from Australia to Europe I am amazed at the places that I can fly to for a fraction of the full-service airline fares, and appreciate the spirited competition that has followed; to date I havent found flights for 60p such as my Irish in-laws claim to have enjoyed, but then, honestly, do we really want airlines offering to fly us for such prices? I have found that if you follow Ryanairs stringent rules you wont have too much trouble, but I admit that checking-in always makes me nervous: OLeary has said that people who face a 70 euro/pound (Ryanair treats the currencies as having the same value) fine for not printing their boarding passes are idiots; there is also the worry that your one bag will not meet their despotic (but necessary) size requirements, or that someone will find your sandwich. Or something else will arise that triggers Ryanairs 19 item long list of optional fees. OLeary is considering adding a charge for use of the toilets, and pondering why planes need two pilots. One British reporter says that it is a dizzying experience to keep up with his diatribes delivered at 100 miles per hour and peppered with more jokes than a stand up comic. Inexplicably he calls the Irish flag carrier, Aer Lingus, the Peoples Front of Judea. There are websites devoted to the traumas of Ryanair, ihateryanair.org being just one. Complaints include Ryanairs renaming Birmingham International as North London and occasionally Dublin East, a bizarre notion that, following mass confusion, prompted the UK Consumers Association to urge passengers to check the small print carefully before booking a

Murray Laurence

Hoppin to Dublin flight online, something of an understatement when you read of some of the other mini- and larger misadventures. Assuming you board without incident, a flight with Ryanair is usually fine, though irritating or amusing depending on your mood. You are blitzed with offers from the cabin crew for lottery tickets, car rental options, holidays and assorted trinkets. Since many crew members are from Europes east, perhaps Russia, there is a certain severity in these offerings; they dont sound like much fun. Ve haf ticket for holiday in Plovdiv. You buy it now! Likewise the cockpit crew: you sometimes feel you are back in the old USSR when the pilot issues instructions. Recently I flew from Girona to Dublin, a flight of just over two hours. I wasnt aware until I got to the airport that Girona actually serves Spains Costa Brava; the queue for my plane was mainly Irish families, hot, pink, plump and affable, returning from two weeks at the seaside. I boarded and sat in an empty row third from the back. The rest of the plane was full to bursting (OLeary is looking at standing options; seat belts dont matter, he has said, seriously). I had seen two hair-raising looking characters in the queue you couldnt miss them as they were laughing, singing and making a lot of noise with a tambourine. They were in their late 30s and dressed in black leather with vibrantly coloured shirts and Russian hats with ear muffs, and I guessed they were a comedy duo from a Costa Brava club. I heard them boarding behind me, but as they stumbled into the last row a flight attendant ordered them in beside me. Why? Did I look lonely? The last two rows, six seats, were left empty. They may have been a comedy pair but they were very drunk, and as soon as they sat one produced a bottle of green liqueur from which they began swigging, thoughtfully offering me a tug. We chatted inanely as the plane taxied; one declared that he was altogether terrified and the other tried to calm him. When I said I was from Australia he observed, Youd be a brave man altogether to take one of these tings all that way, and the other added, I wouldnt floi all them nights and days meself to find Australia at the end. Where would you prefer to get to? I asked. Well, now, all them nights and days. He was thinking. Joopita or the moon itself! Now thatd be grand! Mind you a lotta the lads are goin out to Australia now, reasoned his earth-bound mate. Murray Laurence 2

Hoppin to Dublin When the plane took off the frightened one put his head on his knees. O the saints, he wailed, tis no way to live, sure it isnt! to which the other replied, No way to die! and to me, Fekkin eejit! Last time he tried jompin out!, and offered his friend a squashed banana. Once at altitude, my neighbour said theyd been staying at a hostel in Barcelona and one night an insane spooky noise caused us to hoof it outside and there ovverin above was a floin saucer! Music was comin outta holes. Meat Loaf , added his friend. Naturally, was all I could say. As we passed through clouds over the Pyrenees they both freaked out, moaning and muttering incoherent psalms, and then, when the clouds were safely below, the one beside me announced, On the floit over I looked out the window and seen God imself leppin across the clouds. Lookin at me. Grand steps like hes urryin to catch the plane. He was oppin, his mate corrected. With the soize of foot on him, at the end of them holy legs, he ops about Europe, but he must av a plane when he goes to Australia, just to see how the lads is gettin on. Planes yer man for Austra. And he suddenly fell asleep. He moit leg it, what with them grand ops, mumbled the first before he, too, conked out, and collapsed right onto me. The other rolled across the aisle suspended by his seat belt, bottle in hand. A stewardess trying to pass said urgently, Sir, sir! and attempted to lift him back to the seat. Then she noticed the bottle. As I was the only person in the row that was compos mentis she said to me crankily that drinking wasnt allowed and yanked the bottle from his grip. Sir, bedamned! a woman opposite boomed. At least it was now quiet, though I had the mans Chartreuse soused head and bristly face against mine. They didnt even wake when we landed and I was trapped at the window. When the rear door opened I wanted to exit before the crush so I pushed the heavy body away (were they dead, I wondered) and clambered over the back of the seat to the empty row. You shoulda done that hours ago! said the same woman. People were trying to shift the joker out of the aisle. The divil take em!, the woman roared. Murray Laurence 3