As I wrote on my last article about my flying adventures as non EU citizen, my dramas didn’t stop on the first of January 2007 when Romania became an EU member. The causes of most of my memorable flying experiences, bad but amusing or just plain bad,  are related to poor staff training and sometimes are the result of bad manners, or of “missing seven years at home” as the Romanians used to say. This time I'm focusing on two stories that took place at the opposite corners of Europe with two very different airlines, but which in the end displayed very similar causes and effects.

August 2010, Edinburgh airport. I was sad because it was the last day of my wonderful holiday in Scotland where I visited a lot of beautiful places and fought with the unpredictable weather, the Scottish accent and the spicy haggis. I was tired from walking on the streets and the seemingly endless days and nights that I spent at the Edinburgh Festival. I was at the airport, snoozing, and outside there was more of the unforgettable Scottish weather, my bones at least will always remember. My journey was going to be long because I had to change at Schipol Amsterdam, with a few hours of waiting.

I was calm and quiet, perhaps because of environment, where it seemed to me everyone was calm, gentle and ...sleepy. I wasn't worried because I was in a “solid area” thinking nothing unpleasant could happen. I had arrived early at airport as usual during all my holidays and was waiting to check-in. The queue was long and moved slowly and deliberately, which seemed to be the norm in Scotland. I can honestly say that I liked very much this rhythm of life and it made me return to noisy and unpredictable Romania a little calmer and more balanced.

The management of the Edinburgh Airport had decided to implement a new electronic check-in, which I had used in 2007 at Helsinki airport. It seemed very efficient, not only for the airport staff but for the customers too. However, what I had experienced in Helsinki turned out to be very different to what happened at Edinburgh airport. In the Helsinki airport the staff had been very gentle and polite. I thought Edinburgh would be the same, but I was wrong.

Everything changed when some young employees appeared to help people with the new check in machines. In spite of their task to support and assist customers using the machines, they “accomplished” their job into a way that really shocked me. They were six: three blonde haired, tall and sporty looking girls and three boys with athletic builds, two blonde and one red haired. Their uniforms were very Scottish, blue suits and white blouses, the same mix of blue and white as in the Scots national flag.

Watching them carefully, I noticed the stiffness which is characteristic to many Northern peoples, but which isn’t unpleasant because it is a way of being that comes more from education, as I understood from a few friends who live there, and less from arrogance. So, at the beginning all seemed to be normal, but it was only an illusion. In spite of the cloudy day outside, the storm came inside the airport when the young team began to put  their tasks into practice. First, they divided into two groups, one on the right of the queue, another in the left side of it. Then, throwing very arrogant looks to the people who were waiting there they said in the toughest and incomprehensible Scottish English something like “people who have electronic tickets must use the machines”. Of course, not many people understood what they said and they didn’t care. The red haired boy, with his rugby player shoulders, told one of the blonde girls, looking deep into her blue grey eyes “ Do you see what idiots they are?”, the blonde replied with a grave voice “ It's normal Ewan, they are mostly Italians, so what do you expect?” The other boy, blonde with a military haircut, like many Scottish young people I saw, had got close to the blonde girl said in a low voice “ They are not only Italians, mostly they are a gaffers kit.”

Listening to their dialogue, I got angry, but the only thing I could do it was tell them “The gaffers brought many pounds so you could help them to use the machines.” The blonde girl darted me a deadly angry look and said to me “Do you want me to help you?” “No” was my answer and from that moment I decided never to use Edinburgh Airport services again. After the announcement of the mandatory use of machine, all hell broke loose and the old people, especially the women, were panic stricken. They began to scream at each other in Italian (of course), and their noisy alarm spread.

The young team were overwhelmed by situation and the only solution they found after 15 minutes of hysteria was to tell people to use the “classic” check in. The results of this unpleasant and unexpected story was that the customers were angry, discontent and the airport authorities I’m sure didn’t reach their objective to reduce the costs, covering people from the desk with machines, at least from that flight. Respecting my decision, in 2011 I used the Glasgow airport, where everything was OK, apart from my terrible flu which I contracted traveling on the train route Edinburgh - Glasgow, to avoid Edinburgh Airport. No comment.

September 2012. It was evening and I was waiting for my flight to Malta for a dream holiday, I believed. Never dream too much, because, many times to reach Paradise you must pass through the Hell. This particular road through Hell to Paradise was called my flight from Bucharest to La Valleta on an autumn evening.

After check in, I boarded the airplane with all the other happy people who were preparing for a holiday in a special, sunny place. The people laughed, talked with high voices, told jokes - enthusiastic and full of energy. We all took our places and everyone tried to get as comfortable as possible. I put my hand bag in the proper place and opened the book which I had decided to read. So, time passed by, the professional smiling stewards helped people to take seats, to arrange the hand luggage, to switch off the electronic devices and then they disappeared. This vanishing didn’t create any suspicion at the beginning, but after 10, 15, 20 minutes the situation changed.

The children began to cry, the men began to ask each other what was happening and the women began to panic. After more than 20 minutes the women took the initiative in their characteristic way by pressuring their husbands to do something. Near me was a family, not very typical, but quite interestingly formed of a mature, almost old man with an intellectual aspect and a woman (his wife)- a young blonde, long haired, with long glossy red nails - very hostess like. The woman got bored and started a conversation with me.

So I found a lot of information about Malta, our destination because they had been there many times, including the previous year on their honeymoon. The conversation was very pleasant and I observed yet again how appearances can be deceptive. The blonde wasn’t a hostess, wasn’t so young and the age difference between them was only five years. They were architects, unconventional people and very fond of Malta. After she told me many life and holiday stories, we looked at our watches and discovered that we had been talking more than two hours and the airplane hadn’t moved at all. The 7th of September passed by one hour and a new day turned up, but not the airplane crew. Nobody said anything about what had happened, the children slept, the young couples had slept one in another lap, the old people nodded and the dawn was nearby our fixed airplane on the Otopeni airport. I can say, it was a very nice and unusual first day holiday. At two in the morning, a sleepy steward wearing a dark red rumpled suit and a stewardess with the makeup out of place came to welcome us to the Air Malta flight to La Valleta.

When the airplane took off I was relieved and I told myself “Don’t be angry, it is the first holiday day”. When we landed, the staff deigned to give us an explanation “Sorry for inconvenience, it was a bureaucratic problem. Have a nice time in Malta”. What inconvenience, can we ask? It was a pleasure to talk with the woman on my left side, I found a lot of things about Malta and I only arrived at my accommodation with four hours delay.

Actually my holiday in Malta was very good and I’d like to go there in a future holiday, but I wonder if I can travel there by train, car or bus...I don’t know. So, for my next holiday there I’ll be quiet, calm and calculate a cost of time of 6 or 7 hours, and I’ll definitely buy water for the journey.

By Mariana Ganea, Guest Writer

(photo source: sxc.hu)