British Airways (a lament)

Back from Dubai now and feeling like a British Airways rumble. The “world’s favourite airline” must now be one of the world’s least popular airlines. The poor, whingeing cabin crew staff did their best to disrupt our return plans with their attempted industrial action. Maybe, however, it would have been better if the strike had gone ahead and the company had been brought to their knees. That way we would have been re-routed on another airline on the way back and spared the graceless British Airways cabin service we received when returning from our Christmas break.

Okay so the flight safety video was on the blink (or none of the cabin crew knew how to work it). That meant that the £50,000 plus-a-year head of cabin crew had to read out the safety instructions, but she couldn’t find the script, so there was an embarrassing delay. We eventually got airborne and the drinks trolley appeared. Yes I could have a Bloody Mary if I didn’t mind a miniature of vodka, a slurp of tomato juice from a packet, ice and lemon. “Have you got any worcester sauce?” I pleaded. Of course not.

Now like my slimline son I quite enjoy the mysteries of airline food. There’s usually something reasonably tasty going on somewhere on the lunch tray – even when flying with charter carriers like Monarch. This time absolutely not. My lasagne was simply horrid and the wife’s chicken with rice was revolting to behold and she gave up after half a mouthful of the blackened, glutinous pulp.

Just to finish off I was tempted by an item or two from the duty free trolley. “Yes, sir, it will be coming around in about an hour”. Needless to say it never did. The moving map feature had been disabled to prevent us terrorists knowing when we were over areas of high population – soon, I imagine, they’ll black out the windows.

On landing by the modern and crisply efficient Terminal 5 our plane slowly taxied past a few dozen other British Airways aircraft, lined up at their showpiece terminal in much the same way as the same plane had taxied past a few dozen Emirates planes parked up outside their sparkling new terminal in Dubai seven hours or so earlier. The difference was that the Emirates fleet looked clean, new and efficient. The British Airways fleet looked old and tired – like their cabin crews. Next time I book a flight BA will be the carriers I’ll do my best to avoid. Sad, really...