Spoiled Ryanair passengers are so full of HOT AIR!

Like most people I have a love/hate relationship with Ryanair but, largely, I tend to err on the love side of the equation. Yes, flying with the low-cost airline can be deeply annoying at times and, as I wrote here some time ago, they have now over-complicated their product to the point of adding so many layers that you simply end up bewildered by it all. Largely, however, you get what you pay for.

It’s a bit of a sport, though, isn’t it – moaning about Ryanair? And while they don’t always get it right, I must say, when I hear people giving out for the sake of giving out, I tend to get a bit defensive. Particularly when people are being totally unreasonable and complaining about something that is completely out of Ryanair’s hands.

Such was my experience last Saturday when I flew from Chania to Leeds/Bradford. I had spent a lovely relaxing week in Crete (again!) and was travelling home via Yorkshire to spend a few days with my sister en route for home.

The flight had taken off a bit late from Chania but, once in the air, it all went swimmingly – four hours in a turbulence-free sky. The trouble started, however, as we began our descent into Leeds/Bradford, a lovely little airport, but also – and this is relevant here – the highest airport in Britain, and therefore prone to weather, and especially wind, issues.

And it quickly became apparent as we started to drop closer and closer to the ground that wind was definitely a problem. The plane, quite frankly, was all over the place. And then, just as I thought that we might finally feel the wheels hit the runway, there was a burst of acceleration and we pulled straight back up again.

On came the pilot a couple of minutes later to tell us what was going on. We wouldn’t be able to land at Leeds/Bradford because of weather conditions he explained, we were going to have to divert to Liverpool and we’d be landing there in the next 15 minutes.

He didn’t keep us waiting, wondering what was happening, or, indeed, if we were going to make another attempt at landing. He told us straightaway and, just as he said, we landed quickly and safely at Liverpool some minutes later. It was when we made it into the terminal that the moaning started. Where were the coaches to bring us to Leeds? Why weren’t they here?

Now, these were coaches that, a mere 20 minutes earlier, Ryanair wouldn’t have even known were going to be required, and coaches, like many things in life, can’t simply be whisked up out of thin air at the drop of a hat.

But it wasn’t just the lack of instant coaches. It was the mere fact that we were now in Liverpool instead of Leeds and with a 90-minute journey across the Pennines ahead of us. Some people were so apoplectic about the inconvenience that I couldn’t resist passing comment.

‘I presume the pilot and the crew would also prefer to be in Leeds,’ I said. ‘It’s not as if they chose to divert to Liverpool.’ (The captain explained after we landed in Liverpool and were taxiing in to the terminal that the wind warning that had come up as we were trying to land at Leeds had left him no choice but to abort the landing.)

Then, with coaches understandably enough rather slow to materialise, I headed out of the terminal building to the taxi rank. How much would it cost to Leeds/Bradford airport? £140, but he’d do it for £120. How many people could he accommodate in his people carrier taxi? Six.

Right, so if I rounded up another five people it would be £20 a head. Well worth it, I thought. And so, as it happens, did the other five who joined me. Job done, I thought. Everybody happy. Not so. Once we were all strapped in and on our way the moaning started up again. One woman just couldn’t help herself. She was never going to fly with Ryanair again. But it wasn’t Ryanair’s fault I pointed out, suggesting that you could hardly blame Michael O’Leary for the ferocity of the winds at the highest airport in Britain. Well, she said, they didn’t even try to land a second time. But the captain explained, I said, conscious that my temper was beginning to fray, that he had received clear notification instructing him not to land. He had put passenger welfare first. He had done the right thing.

Still she huffed and puffed.

I could stand it no longer. ‘So,’ I said to her, as she sat shaking her head at the inconvenience of it all, ‘instead of sitting here in a comfortable taxi that will deposit you at your destination just two and half hours late, and safe and sound, would you prefer the alternative?’ She looked at me blankly. ‘Would you rather be dead?,’ I asked her, admittedly somewhat bluntly. (It had been a long day.)

Silence prevailed for the rest of the journey.