What I want to know is — what’s easy about it? EasyJet, I mean. I’ve just used it to go to the south of France and I’m struggling to accept that ‘easy’ best describes it.
I haven’t been on a budget airline for a while but I well remember the era of package trips when going on holiday meant queuing for hours to check on to some battered old charter plane called SunTours or GoldenFly, so I’m not a total novice when it comes to no-frills flying. It’s just that for years now I’ve been enjoying this golden age of cheap air travel which means you can usually get a perfectly reasonable British Airways flight to most places. But this summer I couldn’t get from Gatwick to Nice on BA so I decided to try easyJet.
The first clue that something other than easiness might be going on came as I booked the ticket on their website. What in the name of jumping Jehosaphat is the deal with its use of the concept ‘extra’? Literally everything was extra, including getting on the plane, sitting on a seat and having the stewards close the door before take-off. It was £9 extra to check in a suitcase. (I can’t see how you would squeeze a week’s beachwear, shoes and toiletries into a handbag but apparently easyJet thinks this is an option.) It was £8 extra for something called ‘speedy boarding’, which I declined. It was £1.23 extra to offset carbon (not very much, obviously), and it was £5 extra to enter my debit card number. (How else was I going to pay — by stuffing cash through the computer screen?)
When I got to the check-in at Gatwick South my doubts about the whole easiness thing appeared confirmed. The queue was so long it didn’t have an end, but simply flowed into a massive sea of people who looked like they were waiting for the Pope to come out on to a balcony and lead them in prayer.
I joined the throng and waited for something spiritual to happen, as it surely must. You cannot gather this many travellers in one place and hope to put them on planes without a miracle happening. But, despite my lack of faith, a miracle did happen. After about an hour, people in orange jackets bearing the legend ‘Ask Me Now’ came among us and moved us.
They spake unto us the words ‘Anyone for Nice?’ and lo! I was lifted from the hordes and spirited to a check-in desk and verily it was good. I’m not kidding. It was better than queuing. If I fly easyJet again I’m simply going to arrive a few minutes before my flight is due to close and wait for the little men in orange to take me up.
When I got to the departure lounge, the flight had gone from being ready to board to being so delayed that I started to panic buy food. I bought five sandwiches from Pret in what may have been subconscious preparation to help the stewards feed all the passengers.
At the departure gate, the effects of speedy boarding kicked in. Almost everyone crammed into the section which was meant to put you on the plane first while five of us sat in the area designated for ‘slow’ boarding. Verily the losers in slow boarding sat and waited in comfort while those who had paid for easy boarding queued and queued.
Finally, as the queue started to move, the man sitting next to me said, ‘Watch this,’ and walked straight up to the front. I followed him and lo! the queue did open and let me in with smiles and blessings.
I got a window seat right at the front and had tears in my eyes it was so moving. I suppose this is what Jesus meant when he talked about the meek inheriting the earth.
As I settled in they played a Beethoven piano sonata, which was a nice change from the boring old flower duet from Delibes’ Lakmé, and then the pilot came on. He was Dutch and used the flight announcement to preach a moving sermon about love and fellowship. ‘Hey! Ladies and gents, I’m so sorry about being an hour late but please don’t take it out on the cabin crew! When we get to Nice I will be more than happy to explain to you the reasons for our delay!’ He was basically offering to take us all out for a beer after we landed, maybe even a spliff or two.
So, in summary, I wouldn’t call it easy. Character-building or awe-inspiring maybe. Easy — no. I feel the company would do better if it marketed itself more honestly, making more of its spiritual qualities. I’m trying to think of a better name. MiracleJet. Maddening-but-strangely-inspiringJet. It needs some thought.
Melissa Kite is deputy political editor of the Sunday Telegraph.
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