Sunday 20 June 2010

Passengers

Here on Ibiza, there is no such thing as a bus queue. People just kind of mill around, somewhere close to the bus-stop, wherever they fancy, and when the bus arrives, they get on. And if the person who turned up last gets on first...well, nobody bats an eyelid. So, having my first ever experience of flying Ryan Air last week, was something of a shock to the system.

Now, I´m not having a dig at Ryan Air here – far from it. The plane was comfortable, as far as planes go, the cabin staff were friendly and efficient and the pilots obviously knew what they were doing...well, I lived to tell this tale, didn´t I? But the thing with Ryan Air is that (unless you pay for the privilege), you are not allocated a specific seat number. And the consequences of this, my friends, I was simply not prepared for.

I started off quite well. At Ibiza airport, you are transported from the building to your plane on a bus with just the odd seat, so unless you are very lucky, you are standing, squashed against the other passengers and hanging on to handles on the ceiling or railings round the sides for dear life. I was one of the last ones onto the bus, because I´d been sitting in the airport bar drinking red wine while everyone else had been queuing at the gate, but this worked to my advantage. Last one on the bus, first one off which I was very relieved about – these airport buses are nightmares and I´m sure the pre-requisites of being a driver are the ability to make the short distance from airport to plane as jerky as possible, to brake as hard as possible on stopping, and then to wait as long as possible before opening the doors. And it was at this point...when the doors finally whooshed open...that the fun began.

I hopped off and started making my way towards the plane then suddenly, it was like a stampede. As soon as their feet hit the tarmac, everybody started running. Some to the front door of the plane, some to the back, all shouting at each other to hurry up and barging past everyone else to make it to the steps of the aircraft. The stewardess was standing at the top, looking calm and unflustered, clearly used to two hundred or so people launching themselves at break-neck speed towards her. I would have been terrified if I´d been her. As it was, I was merely bewildered. Did they all know something I didn´t know? What? The first twenty passengers on board get their flight for free? Rows nineteen through to twenty-two are given Indian Head Massages and a foot spa as they travel? Did seat 4c have a briefcase with a million euros stashed underneath it?

No, once I finally boarded, I realised that this was just a regular plane with rows of identical seats. I suppose I was fortunate in that I was travelling alone, so I didn´t have to try and get a party of passengers seats together, and at 5 foot tall, the few seats with extra leg room really held little interest to me, but still, the ferocity and determination of my fellow travellers to be the first on the plane was something to behold.

And do you know what the really strange thing was? Everybody got a seat. Everybody arrived at their destination. Amazing, isn´t it?

But the whole episode got me to thinking how we are all control freaks to some degree. We push and shove and have to have things the way we think they should be when, really, none of it matters. We can journey through life stressing over the little things, or we can flow easily with it, accepting that everything is as it is, and that everything works out perfectly in the end. We are exactly where we are supposed to be and we all get to where we´re going one way or the other.

I´m not sure it would ever use it as its advertising slogan, but for me, it´s true. Ryan Air, the great metaphor for life. Take your seat wherever it happens to be, and enjoy the journey.

That said, next time, I´m definitely flying Jet 2. ;)

Thursday 10 June 2010

What the heck??...


I´m experiencing some strange activity on my blog...or rather, on the comments.

Many of them are coming through as oriental-style characters - check it out on the last entry, Distracted - three of the six comments appear like this!! Weird, eh?

I doubt very much that these responses were sent through in anything other than English, it´s more likely to be some kind of programming error, but I just wanted to write this short blog, firstly, to thank everyone for the comments and to explain that I´m not being ill-mannered or ungrateful in not replying...I´m just at a bit of a loss as to what it all means!!

If you do want to contact me, maybe an email to jinnyibiza@gmail.com might be the easiest - I´m always interested to know what you all think.

Oh...and if anyone has any idea why this is happening, I´d love a heads-up.

Thanks :)

Namaste