Nudlaug
3rd Apr 2004, 07:21
From Sydney Morning Herald, Lawrie Zion, 03/04/04
THAT'S A BIT RICH
Lawrie Zion reveals the pitfalls of flying with one of Europe's budget airlines.
It sounded too good to be true. From Leipzig to London for just under 30 euros, or about $50,
on Ryanair, the Irish budget carrier that's been bucking the trend of declining airline
fortunes.
A cursory glance on the internet at the air fares available on established carriers like
British Airways and Lufthansa confirmed the scale of the bargain. At this price, Ryanair was
about a 10th the cost of a jaunt from anywhere else in Germany to Britain on the day I wanted
to travel. The ticket was also a fraction of Ryanair's own regular price of 180 euros.
If only I'd known that flying Virgin Blue is no preparation for the Continental version of
discount air travel.
Complications set in as soon as I checked out of my hotel, wet laundry in tow, in the quaint
spa town of Karlovy Vary in the Czech Republic. I'd just spent five, travel-free days
watching movies at the town's annual film festival.
Poring over a map of central Europe had convinced me that heading into eastern Germany on the
train, and catching a flight from Leipzig back to England, would be far more sensible than
returning to crowded Prague. Several hours and several more slow trains later, however, I was
barely over the border and would have arrived at the wrong airport altogether were it not for
the kindly intervention of a elderly Leipziger sitting next to me who, hearing I planned to
fly Ryanair, told me the airport I needed was in fact in another state, 50 kilometres away
near the town of Altenberg.
Why then, I wondered, was Ryanair promoting its new German destination as Leipzig/Altenberg?
Leipzig, after all, has an airport of its own - which is why the woman who sold me my rail
ticket insisted there could be no other terminal for my London journey.
Finally disembarking the train at the neat but anonymous-looking Altenberg, I nudged my
suitcase to the sign that said "Airport Shuttle", only to discover that the service ran just
once a day.
I had no way of knowing whether this single trip would get me to the terminal in time for
check-in. So I hailed a cab and was driven past idyllic looking hayfields and a string of
small villages before arriving at a desolate steel bungalow. This, to my amazement, was
Altenberg airport. I had spent 35 euros on my cab ride - more than the air fare to Britain -
to beat the shuttle.
As the Ryanair flight was the only arrival that day it wasn't surprising the building was all
but deserted. Several euros after establishing that the only pay phone on the premises was
out of order, and that there was no newspaper to be found within a five-kilometre radius, I
headed out to the "beer garden" - a few desultory chairs and tables around a cordoned-off
slab of the underused concrete runway.
The beer wasn't bad and eventually I was joined by members of a British heavy metal act. Our
tarmac banter - and the beer - distracted us from the business of checking in and by the time
we joined a range of bewildered travellers in the queue it took an hour to get our boarding
passes.
It was then I learned that my luggage, which was nudging 30 kilograms, was 14 kilos
overweight. For this crime I was made to pay a 72 euro fine. That is, more than twice the air
fare. "If you'd read your fine print, sir," was the cheerful comeback line when I argued that
I was safely within the limits of most airlines' economy baggage allowance. At least my
wallet was now considerably lighter.
I joined my fellow travellers in the transit lounge (same furniture as the beer garden, but
indoors) and tinkered with an expensive,
sub-Qantas Club sandwich until I suddenly realised I was sitting alone while the rest of the
passengers had swarmed en masse to the departure gate. I knew it had been a long day, but why
the crush?
Numbed by hours of inactivity, I could only manage a leisurely amble across the tarmac and up
the steps. It was there I realised that my boarding pass didn't have a seat number marked on
it.
"No, it hasn't fallen off - it's sit wherever you like," said the chirpy flight attendant. I
did, but my options were limited to one of the aisle seats in the fourth row.
Ironically, after all this hanging about, the flight was even quicker than the advertised 110
minutes. This was just as well. With all the product being spruiked from the cabin's speakers
I was starting to feel as if I'd been trapped in a mobile home-shopping channel by the time
we touched down at Stansted. Among the offerings were discounted return rail passes from
Stansted to the city; not among the offerings were one-way rail passes, which I was told I'd
have to buy on the ground.
Stansted, it turned out, was even further from the British capital than Altenberg was from
Leipzig, though I'm told that it's quite handy to Cambridge and the Fens. It was still light
by the time I reached London on that warm summer evening, which masked the sobering reality
that it would have been quicker and cheaper - not to mention more comfortable - to have made
the entire journey by rail. And it was not over yet.
The final approach to my Paddington hotel was delayed by those inevitable Tube cancellations,
so I dragged my belongings into a London cab for yet another outlay that far exceeded my
bargain-basement air fare.
Sixteen hours and some $400 (or eight times my air fare) after leaving Karlovy Vary, I
reached my destination. Too bad there was nowhere to dry my socks and undies.
FARE GAME
The deprivations of European budget carriers don't stop with haphazard service. Ryanair aims
to cut costs even further by dispensing with reclining seats, window blinds, headrest covers
and seat pockets (safety notices will be stitched to the back of each seat). It is also
considering charging passengers for checked luggage.
Theoretically, reports Associated Press, an airline could even abolish toilets and drinking
water on shorter flights because such amenities fall outside mandatory aviation regulations
(Ryanair rival easyJet has reduced its toilet numbers from three to two on Boeing 737s so it
can fit in an extra revenue-making passenger seat.) Nervous flyers can rest assured that
regulations compel airlines to leave the seatbelts, lighting and doors intact.
But it's not all bad news. Ryanair has also announced it will replace its cloth seats with
leather ones (because leather's easier and cheaper to clean).
And in the US, the fast-growing JetBlue Airways gives passengers individual TVs and more leg
room, while Delta Air Lines' low-cost offshoot, Song, will offer satellite TV and video
games.
THAT'S A BIT RICH
Lawrie Zion reveals the pitfalls of flying with one of Europe's budget airlines.
It sounded too good to be true. From Leipzig to London for just under 30 euros, or about $50,
on Ryanair, the Irish budget carrier that's been bucking the trend of declining airline
fortunes.
A cursory glance on the internet at the air fares available on established carriers like
British Airways and Lufthansa confirmed the scale of the bargain. At this price, Ryanair was
about a 10th the cost of a jaunt from anywhere else in Germany to Britain on the day I wanted
to travel. The ticket was also a fraction of Ryanair's own regular price of 180 euros.
If only I'd known that flying Virgin Blue is no preparation for the Continental version of
discount air travel.
Complications set in as soon as I checked out of my hotel, wet laundry in tow, in the quaint
spa town of Karlovy Vary in the Czech Republic. I'd just spent five, travel-free days
watching movies at the town's annual film festival.
Poring over a map of central Europe had convinced me that heading into eastern Germany on the
train, and catching a flight from Leipzig back to England, would be far more sensible than
returning to crowded Prague. Several hours and several more slow trains later, however, I was
barely over the border and would have arrived at the wrong airport altogether were it not for
the kindly intervention of a elderly Leipziger sitting next to me who, hearing I planned to
fly Ryanair, told me the airport I needed was in fact in another state, 50 kilometres away
near the town of Altenberg.
Why then, I wondered, was Ryanair promoting its new German destination as Leipzig/Altenberg?
Leipzig, after all, has an airport of its own - which is why the woman who sold me my rail
ticket insisted there could be no other terminal for my London journey.
Finally disembarking the train at the neat but anonymous-looking Altenberg, I nudged my
suitcase to the sign that said "Airport Shuttle", only to discover that the service ran just
once a day.
I had no way of knowing whether this single trip would get me to the terminal in time for
check-in. So I hailed a cab and was driven past idyllic looking hayfields and a string of
small villages before arriving at a desolate steel bungalow. This, to my amazement, was
Altenberg airport. I had spent 35 euros on my cab ride - more than the air fare to Britain -
to beat the shuttle.
As the Ryanair flight was the only arrival that day it wasn't surprising the building was all
but deserted. Several euros after establishing that the only pay phone on the premises was
out of order, and that there was no newspaper to be found within a five-kilometre radius, I
headed out to the "beer garden" - a few desultory chairs and tables around a cordoned-off
slab of the underused concrete runway.
The beer wasn't bad and eventually I was joined by members of a British heavy metal act. Our
tarmac banter - and the beer - distracted us from the business of checking in and by the time
we joined a range of bewildered travellers in the queue it took an hour to get our boarding
passes.
It was then I learned that my luggage, which was nudging 30 kilograms, was 14 kilos
overweight. For this crime I was made to pay a 72 euro fine. That is, more than twice the air
fare. "If you'd read your fine print, sir," was the cheerful comeback line when I argued that
I was safely within the limits of most airlines' economy baggage allowance. At least my
wallet was now considerably lighter.
I joined my fellow travellers in the transit lounge (same furniture as the beer garden, but
indoors) and tinkered with an expensive,
sub-Qantas Club sandwich until I suddenly realised I was sitting alone while the rest of the
passengers had swarmed en masse to the departure gate. I knew it had been a long day, but why
the crush?
Numbed by hours of inactivity, I could only manage a leisurely amble across the tarmac and up
the steps. It was there I realised that my boarding pass didn't have a seat number marked on
it.
"No, it hasn't fallen off - it's sit wherever you like," said the chirpy flight attendant. I
did, but my options were limited to one of the aisle seats in the fourth row.
Ironically, after all this hanging about, the flight was even quicker than the advertised 110
minutes. This was just as well. With all the product being spruiked from the cabin's speakers
I was starting to feel as if I'd been trapped in a mobile home-shopping channel by the time
we touched down at Stansted. Among the offerings were discounted return rail passes from
Stansted to the city; not among the offerings were one-way rail passes, which I was told I'd
have to buy on the ground.
Stansted, it turned out, was even further from the British capital than Altenberg was from
Leipzig, though I'm told that it's quite handy to Cambridge and the Fens. It was still light
by the time I reached London on that warm summer evening, which masked the sobering reality
that it would have been quicker and cheaper - not to mention more comfortable - to have made
the entire journey by rail. And it was not over yet.
The final approach to my Paddington hotel was delayed by those inevitable Tube cancellations,
so I dragged my belongings into a London cab for yet another outlay that far exceeded my
bargain-basement air fare.
Sixteen hours and some $400 (or eight times my air fare) after leaving Karlovy Vary, I
reached my destination. Too bad there was nowhere to dry my socks and undies.
FARE GAME
The deprivations of European budget carriers don't stop with haphazard service. Ryanair aims
to cut costs even further by dispensing with reclining seats, window blinds, headrest covers
and seat pockets (safety notices will be stitched to the back of each seat). It is also
considering charging passengers for checked luggage.
Theoretically, reports Associated Press, an airline could even abolish toilets and drinking
water on shorter flights because such amenities fall outside mandatory aviation regulations
(Ryanair rival easyJet has reduced its toilet numbers from three to two on Boeing 737s so it
can fit in an extra revenue-making passenger seat.) Nervous flyers can rest assured that
regulations compel airlines to leave the seatbelts, lighting and doors intact.
But it's not all bad news. Ryanair has also announced it will replace its cloth seats with
leather ones (because leather's easier and cheaper to clean).
And in the US, the fast-growing JetBlue Airways gives passengers individual TVs and more leg
room, while Delta Air Lines' low-cost offshoot, Song, will offer satellite TV and video
games.