Plane sense won’t solve problem of travel twits
If boarding a flight makes you plain crazy, there’s good news from one airport, which has come up with a faster way to load passengers — by window seat first.
London’s Gatwick Airport this week announced it is trialling new boarding methods, including asking those in a window seat to get on first. United Airlines tried it too. They claim it could speed up loading times by 10 per cent.
Which is good news, but I’ve queued to get on flights all over the world, with various methods (going in in blocks, those in the back first, boarding at both ends of the plane, the free-for-all scramble and so on) and no matter how they do it, it’s always painful. Because despite how efficient you are and how diligently you follow instructions, you’re always stuck behind some travel twit who mysteriously loses all numerical ability on the airbridge and creeps down the aisle searching for 38B before randomly sitting in 56D, your seat.
Or there’s the ubiquitous berk whose spatial awareness and logic also evaporates and so holds up the line as they huff and puff trying to ram their wheelie-bag into the overhead locker, despite the fact your small bag is already there and being crushed into the size of an envelope. They then unsuccessfully attempt to shut the locker door over and over like Mr Bean, until a stewardess comes to the rescue and rotates their carryon 90 degrees and clicks the door shut. There’s even a video of this doing the rounds on Facebook. I once had the pleasure of receiving one of these badly-stacked bags plummet on my head mid-flight, at no extra expense.
So Gatwick can run all the tests they want, but what are they going to do about the flight faffers? Even if you get the windowseaters on first, the numpties are still likely to hold up the hordes. Like the yo-yo-ers, who sit down, then immediately stand up to get something out of their bag, then repeat the process 47 times before take-off. I don’t know what happens to people when they travel — normally-functioning adults seem to lose their marbles in airports. They can’t find the gate, g they get lost in the lounge — every e single flight in i the world includes a weary, “Last call for the Pilkington P party on Flight AB45” announcement. ann It always a puzzles me — just w where are the Pilkingtons? What are they doing that they’ve disappeared between customs and the departure gate? Are they bulkbuying duty-free? Have they fallen asleep? Are they — and this I suppose is the most likely — drunk in the bar?
Sometimes the Pilkingtons never turn up at all and you’re further delayed while they unload the family’s bags. It’s Pilkington-perplexing.
Finally, when you’re all seated and the person in the row in front has reclined their seat into your lap, you can look forward to doing it all over again when you land — this time standing with your head uncomfortably crooked under the overhead bins waiting for an eternity for those in the rows ahead to inch their way out.
Everyone except the Pilkingtons of course, they are still in the bar, having a far better holiday.