In the insane world of budget airlines better pack your canoe
There is a joke currently doing the rounds, which you may well have already heard. I’ve had it told to me by several friends, and have also seen it on Facebook.
In the story, RyanAir boss Michael O’Leary notices a sign in a pub window reading “Happy hour, Guinness £3 a pint”.
O’Leary goes to the bar and orders his drink. The bartender asks if he wants a glass, O’Leary says he does and the barman replies “That will be an extra £2.50”. The customer grudgingly pays up and is about to rest his pint on the counter, when he is told “Ah, sir, if you’re wanting to use the bar, that’s an extra pound.” O’Leary angrily walks away from the bar and goes to sit at a table to be told “Now, sir, if you want to take a seat that will cost an extra £3.50.”
“This is outrageous. How can you expect to get away with this?” moans O’Leary, to which the barman replies “Well, we are the only pub in town selling Guinness at £3 a pint”.
OK, a fairly predictable joke, but it’s funny because it’s true. As I discovered when I checked in for my flight home from the Brighton Fringe.
I travelled down by train, a much longer journey than by air but environmentally more responsible. And also with less restrictions on the amount of luggage I could carry, so I took two bags, both of which were fully packed.
I flew back from Gatwick on Monday on EasyJet. I had booked a basic ticket which allowed me to carry on one small cabin bag, which had to fit under the seat in front. If I also wanted to take a larger cabin bag to go in the overhead locker, it was going to cost an extra £43.48, which was nearly as much as the original ticket. There’s a lengthy price list for bulky items too. For example, it only costs fifty quid to take a canoe on the plane. That’s utter madness.
All “budget airlines” such as RyanAir operate broadly similar policies. You pay extra for anything other than the smallest item of baggage, then there is an additional charge if you want to choose which seat you sit in. If you’re daft enough, you can even order a meal voucher. Presumably the people purchasing this have never had a look through the EasyJet in-flight menu.
Anyway, when I came to pack for my flight, there was no way all my stuff would fit in a bag under the seat. The suit I was wearing on stage all week was one I had bought at Primark several years previously for around fifty quid. I know, I shop at EasyJet and Primark. That’s how well comedy pays.
The suit served its purpose, as it looked OK from a distance and under stage lighting. Up close, you could easily tell it was an extremely cheap piece of tailoring. To take it back to Edinburgh was going to cost roughly the same as the value of the garment. I donated it to a charity shop. In what insane world is it cheaper to buy a suit than to take it home on a plane? Next time I fly, I’m packing everything into a canoe.