Air travel has come a long way since my first journey in 1952 or 1953 aged four or five years to join my father then with the Royal Navy in Malta. We (my mother, brother and sister) flew in a Vickers Viscount with a stop over in Rome where we were allowed to get off. This was a British European Airways flight, the airline a spin off from the break up of BOAC and a precursor of British Airways when the two groups re-combined in 1974. This aircraft only took 32 passengers but my only memories are the spinning propellers, their enormous noise, of having ships sailing far below on the blue of the Mediterranean pointed out to me through the windows and, best of all, the men with brightly coloured table tennis bats who waived the aircraft into the unloading bay in Valetta. After the return journey 18 months later there was a long interval until the next flight to the Sultanate of Oman in 1976 by Gulf Air via Abu Dhubi probably in a BAC One Eleven. The main interest was at Abu Dhubi where a wild group of six tribesmen got on. They had absolutely no interest in seating themselves and moved around the cabin chatting loudly. It was all the air hostess could do to get them seated and when the aircraft eventually took off none were wearing seat belts. In Oman there were Augusta Bell helicopters with nothing to do after the end of the war in Dhofar, so British Air Force pilots with Omani air crew would take me on acrobatic trips up deep narrow wadis in the Jabal Akdar range or take me on survey trips in the Jabal Aswad in search of the Arabian Tahr a rare goat antelope. There were also trips to the Musundam Peninsular, now so famous as the guardian of the oil routes on the straights of Hormuz. These were trips in sky vans, literally a box with short square wings and a square tail, and every time they landed on graded gravel strips in rugged dark rocked valleys the "short landing" alarm would sound. There was also a commercial flight from Salalah in the south which flew over the empty quarter with the early morning mists just starting to melt away to reveal the endless dunes and the desert pavement on which they sat. This flight approached Muscat down a valley flying lower than the hills on either side.
British Airways' flights on Tristars were a a favourite with their air of imperturbable calm and space; they were also non-stop to London and back and were faster than their rivals. My best flight of all on BA was coming out of Jeddah in Saudi Arabia after making the mistake of spending a year there. Boarding the airliner was like entering another universe of calm and courtesey. There was a forceful high angled take off and as the airport disappeared fast there arrived the realisation that I would never have to return to that country ever again and BA were the delivering angel. There were upsets too, one flight from Oman was diverted from Heathrow to Edinburgh because the aircraft lacked the equipment for landing in dense fog. Once arrived we were immediately transferred to a BA domestic flight to London. These were the days of innocence before the fall and there was a little cafe just outside the aircraft door. This passenger had come straight out of the desert to fly for six or more hours and decided to use the cafe; unfortunately I met the head stewardess at the door, told here what I was going to do but she said "Please go and sit down". At which I point I said rather too forcibly (a symptom of dehydration) that I had been in the air for eight hours and needed a drink (perhaps an unfortunate turn of phrase in Edinburgh). Another passenger led me out of the aircraft and out of the impasse as the crew member and I stared at each other, and I drank tea and water. By the time I returned the head of the cabin crew must have ascertained that she had been saddled with a large number of very thirsty, dehydrated, desert rats who had just flown into the wrong airport from the Middle East and that no one had bothered to tell her. There was then a joyous break out of orange juice throughout the 'plane before take off. On another BA flight my wife and ten year old son were invited into the cockpit where they found the pilot professing to navigate from the school atlas he had on his lap using major roads and motorways to guide the aircraft to its destination.
After this things started to change, the days of innocence from before the fall were over and the shadow of terrorism and the petty humiliations of airport and air security started to cast their shadows, becoming increasingly long and dark as the years went on. This seemed to affect passengers and air crew alike subtly changing the social balance toward the authoritarian. One somehow expects to be bullied on Ryanair. It starts with an IQ test on the booking website with the brain straining to avoid pressing the wrong button and incurring extra costs (where is the "I do not need insurance" tab, and in which drop down menu?) and usually ends with an early but heavy landing and an unseemly rush for the exits. The greatest humiliation suffered under this regime was when, after the goods trolley had set off on its journey down the isle but before the seat belt light had been switched off following take off, I rose to go the loo. The door was locked and as I turned around the eastern European air hostess told me from half way down the cabin to "go and sit down" in such a stentorian manner that the passengers in the entire front third of the aircraft quite spontaneously went "Ohhhh!" It is not for nothing that the Chief Executive of this airline is famous for wanting to have loos which passengers are charged to use by having to put a £1 coin in the lock. He appears only to have been prevented by the Chairman of Boeing who said when asked if the appropriate loo doors could be provided " I would have to charge you for that" no doubt inferring that it would move Boeing so down market to be associated with such a ploy that the charge would be prohibitive.
Undoubtedly the most unpleasant experience delivered by flight crew was on a BMI flight back from Egypt whilst trying to sleep I was struck hard on the shoulder three times in two hours by cabin staff going about their duties. I became aware that the cabin crew might well be playing a game and I was their victim. Why else should people who spent hours a day on aircraft repeatedly bump hard into passengers whose locations they must have been very aware of?
And, oh dear! British Airways - my once favourite airline hit by a malaise. The outward signs were the Chief Executive frequently appearing on radio and television to lambaste his own staff, strikes, redundancies voluntary and compulsory. A long running battle with God fearing but lowly staff over whether they should be allowed to wear crucifixes as a testament to their faith was another symptom of the narcissistic and cynical management under which the company had fallen. The dynamic is clear; they give their staff a hard time, the best leave for jobs in other airlines leaving behind the inexperienced and those close to retirement. These staff in turn give the passengers a hard time - this dynamic is typical of very authoritarian organisations in which domineering behaviour is passed down the pecking order - in this case the passengers are at the bottom. So my last flight with BA was an experience of complex games playing between senior staff, the baggage drop and the cabin staff and later on drawing in Customer Services; in this game my wife and I played patsy.
And oh dear! British Airways (or rather it's parent IAG) has taken over BMI so, to avoid physical and mental games play, must I resort to that nice Mr Branson's airline for the long haul???
It is not all bad news though, there is a wonderful flight between London City Airport to South West France on a BAE Avro RJ85 with four tiny jet engines, a very short take off and landing aircraft run by City Jet. The cabin crew cultivate an air of calm, the aircraft is small and flies delightfully low over the Channel coast up to London - just like the old days. Coming in on a winters night the lights of London are a real spectacle. These flights bring back some of the old wonder that men and women can now fly through the skies in ways that in classical times were only conceived as possible for gods and godesses like Hermes the messenger or Ceres searching high in the air for her daughter Proserpine so recently abducted by Hades. But we are only human and our wonder soon fades as does our attention; wonder is replaced by what....? I wonder.
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