Just when I was beginning to feel
happy about the Air India turnaround, their guy at the check-in counter told me
something that totally pissed me off. “Sir, you need to pay extra for the front
row seats.” I wanted to ask him if I could pay him in kind. Like return the
complimentary sandwich which they give in flights of duration less than 90
minutes. But I was sure that it wouldn’t work. Even he knew it was not worth
even fifty bucks. I just asked him for any aisle seat other than the ones at
the last row. Those are the most
terrible ones where everyone who is waiting to use the loo , and that is almost
everybody on board on an early morning flight, leans on. Often the derriere of
the person standing and the temples of the person sitting are on the same
horizontal axis usually separated by a few nanometres. It appears that Indians
have a special fascination for aircraft loos. Everybody checks-in atleast an
hour before the take-off. But no one uses the washroom at the departure gates.
The moment the safety belt sign is off half the plane rushes to the loo. It is like a trial room in a mall on a Sunday
at the peak of season’s sale. I could never understand the mass hysteria to
relieve oneself in the claustrophobic confines whose suction mechanism is so embarrassingly
loud that everyone on the plane knows when you are done.
I was, mercifully, spared of the ordeal that
day. I was given a seat on the emergency exit row. The ones that cannot be
pushed back and you sit straight through the entire flight as if you were an
infant fastened to the baby seat in the car. These seats come with a
complimentary sermon from the most disinterested member of the cabin crew who
explains how the emergency door should be operated. I once asked at the end of
the special briefing if I could try it once. Unfortunately, the lady was not
amused. It was just like the Indian education system. Only theory; No practice.
As I fastened my seatbelt, I
started thinking about the meanness of the low-cost airlines. They set out with
the idea that the passengers would pay less and get minimal services. Today,
their fares match their full service counterparts, or at times even more, but
the services are bare minimum. Even a zen monastery would appear luxurious in comparison.
If you ask for water, they would serve you in shot glasses. Unless you are
buying some of their tasteless over priced stuff, you don’t exist for them. When
they found that people were not buying their food, they started selling the
seats. As soon as the plane is airborne, a lady would announce that she is glad
to offer the front row seats for an additional charge. Offer for an additional
charge? Why can’t you cut the crap and say that you are selling. Corporate
communications, I guess. After all, there should be some pretence of b-school
education. Who is going to pay for the
extra measly 4 inches of leg space? Thanks, lady. You can keep the four inches
for yourself. Strictly no pun intended. Whom are you trying to sell space. We
Indians can squeeze in anywhere. An entire joint family panning three
generations will comfortably live in a room measuring 10 feet by 10 feet in
Mumbai. I am just waiting for the day when the begin charging for even looking
out of the window. “Sir, 100 bucks for the city view and 50 bucks for the wing
view”.
The pain of low cost airlines begins
right at the check-in counters. They weigh your luggage like cocaine. Every
gram matters. If they find you have exceeded the limit, even by a trifle, they
cant contain their excitement at the prospect of billing you. They adhere to
their rule book more sincerely than Pope adheres to the Bible. What amazes me
more is that some smart women manage to break even these hardcore believers. I
have seen women carry in their hand baggage, a hand bag, a laptop case and two
carry bags (one with shoes and other with groceries and condiments). Their
totes begin a little below their shoulders and, in most cases, easily reach
their knees. Thet would easily take in three duffel bags like mine. My check-in
baggage for a 15 day trip would be half their hand baggage for a day’s trip.
Apparently, their handbags would have a world of things. Energy bars, hand
towels, scarves, umbrellas and even gas masks that can withstand a nuclear
biological chemical (NBC) situation. They actually carry food, cloth and
shelter along with them and can survive for 24 hours in the event of a nuclear
holocaust. On a usual day, these ladies freak me out. But I like them when they
beat the crap out of the Shylocks sitting at the check-in counters.
After you land, the trauma
continues in their buses that are used to ferry the passengers from the
aircraft to the terminal. The buses wouldn’t budge till every inch of the bus
is occupied. The last guy who gets in has his face plastered to the glass doors
after it is shut. I strongly suspect that the drivers get some productivity
linked incentive in transporting a planeload of passengers in the least number
of trips. May be they get promoted as pilots. When I finally reach the
terminal, I direly want to swear that I will never travel by a low-cost airline
again. But for obvious reasons, I know that I cannot. So I silently exit the
airport and take up my next challenge - Identify my vehicle among the scores of
cars.