Air Travel

90 years ago today, the first international, scheduled passenger air service started up, flying between London and Paris. The Aircraft Transport and Travel flew a little four seater bi-plane between a field just outside of London and Le Bourget, just outside Paris. Flights cost 42 guineas, about 3 months wages for an average working man, and worth about £7000 in today's money.

It wasn't long until international air travel took off, of course. Just 30 years after that first flight, The De Havilland Comet was introduced, the first commercial jet entered service. Today, flying 'round the globe is pretty commonplace, and in most cases, a real pain in the ass.

All that being said, its pretty amazing when you think about how far we've come in 90 years since a little 4 seater took off for Paris. Makes you wonder where we'll be flying in 90 years time.

Last call for Passenger Wesson for Virgin Galactic flight 508 to Mars. If you do not board within the next 5 minutes, your luggage will be removed from the flight and you will be denied boarding.

I just flew from London to Toronto. It was hell on Earth. Okay, not on earth, because we were actually 38,000 feet above it, but it was pretty bad. Air travel is just full of indignities.

Yesterday was the first time I have flown since last December, which is a long time considering that for the 8 years prior to last year, I tended to fly a good 40 out of every 52 weeks.

The train ride from my place out to Heathrow wasn't bad, though some woman was sitting beside me on the Heathrow Connect from Paddington sobbing uncontrollably between Ealing Broadway and Hayes and Harlington. Everyone sat on the train in uncomfortable silence as this woman sent and received text messages and let out wails and moans of emotional pain. Like good Brits, we stiff-upper-lip ignored her until she got off, and then everyone breathed a sigh of relief that any show of emotion had past.

Check-in at Heathrow was a zoo. Air Canada, in her wisdom, apparently decided that if one has four desks to man (economy, executive, self-serve bag drop, internet bag-drop) that three staff and two non-working bag-tag printers would be enough to handle the load. It wasn't, of course, and after twenty minutes of standing in one line, I was told to go to another queue. I abandoned my British ways and put on my "American" attitude at that point, and demanded to be checked-in. Luckily the Brits are as uncomfortable with the emotion of anger as the emotion of sadness, and they served me immediately to be free of the situation. They did ask, however, that I write a strongly worded letter to Air Canada management with my concerns. I shall start it "Dear Sirs, Regarding my recent flight of the fourth of August..."

Security wasn't too bad, though of course I got in the line behind the non-English speaker with the metal leg. The metal leg caused the detector to go off, and the poor man couldn't understand any of the instructions barked at him by the security folks. He looked quite bewildered as a young man with a buzz cut ran his hands over his body. It was only a momentary delay, though, and soon I was in the airport proper.

Past security was fine, actually. Heathrow terminal 3, once you are beyond the seventh ring of hell which is the check-in area, is quite nice. I had a pint of lager at one of the many restaurants while I waited for my flight to announce it was boarding.

The flight itself was just long and full of screaming children. Luckily I was on a jet with an individual entertainment unit, so I merely cranked up the soundtrack to "I Love You, Man" and "Push" and ignored the wailing. (Two forms of transport with wailing on it within a single day. Perhaps they are wailing because of my presence. I am the onion of transport, causing all who travel with me to cry...)

We landed in Toronto at the tail end of a thunderstorm, and after an approach so bumpy I couldn't actually read because the book was bouncing around so much, we landed without incident. The airport, though, had been closed for the 30 minutes before our arrival, and so we had to wait on the tarmac for 40 minutes while they cleared the backlog.

The final indignity is, of course, the luggage handling at Toronto's airport. I have discovered something flying into Toronto with checked bags. It is this. No matter how long it takes you to walk from your airplane to the customs area and no matter how long you take in customs, you will wind up waiting for 35 minutes for your bag at the luggage carousel. It is a punch in the stomach, really, being so close to having completed your journey yet having to wait for the slightest of things.

Truth be told, last night's flight was actually no worse than any other flight I have taken recently. I just think that I have lost the crusty shell of amour of indifference that one develops when one flies a lot. I'm not all that sad at having been out of practice, because I am not planing on flying too much more in the future. Just the occasionally vacation, I thinks. And in a lot of ways, flying away to some fantastic place to have an amazing vacation provides its own sort of amour against all the indignities of air travel today.

Having given up the life of a wayfaring consultant means that I have flown significantly less this year than I had the previous 10 years. While this is most likely good for the environment, it is bad for my status in airlines' frequent flyer and hotels' frequent guest programs.

In 2007 I flew enough to get myself status on both Air Canada and Continental airlines, and stayed enough at Marriott hotels to become one of their top tier guests in the Marriott Rewards program. That status has many benefits - upgrades to business class when flying, privilege to board when you like, extra air miles and special offers galore.

With very little travel in 2008, I am about to lose all those benefits. I am currently on a world-wind tour of North America, hitting Toronto and New Orleans before heading back to London for what will likely be my last trip of 2008, and therefore the last time I get to wallow in the benefits of having status.

So, to start off my trip right, I hit Air Canada frequent flyer lounge in London. Actually, the lounge is run by Air Canada's Star Alliance partner, SAS.

SAS, which stands for Scandinavian Airlines System Group, is a airline and hotel management company headquartered in Stockholm, Sweden. Most business class lounges go for the plushy, leather chairs and wood panelling look, but not SAS. Fitting for a company headquartered in Sweden, their lounge is all hard wood floors, bright colours and modular furniture.

It was eerily similar to being in an Ikea showroom. I kept expecting a young couple to come walking through browsing the furniture. "Hmm, if we got two of the KARLSTAD armchairs, a BESTÅ TV stand, a nice KRAMFORS sofa and perhaps a couple MARKÖR end tables, I think that would really fill out the living room."

Either way, the beer was cold and free and I could browse the internet for free, so all and all, it wasn't a bad way to start my trip.

In those days spirits were brave, the stakes were high, men were REAL men, women were REAL women, and small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri were REAL small furry creatures from Aplha Centauri
- Douglas Adams, Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Ah, the good ol' days. Sometimes I feel like I've really missed out on a few things, being born when I was. Not to complain too much, because I have had the opportunity to take part in some really cool things, but in a lot of ways the past can strike us as being a lot more glamourous then what we have as options today.

I recently flew from Toronto to London on Air Canada, and despite my best hopes for an upgrade as one who both paid a full-fare Latitude class ticket and an Aeroplan Elite member, I wound up sitting in the Economy section of the plane with all the unwashed masses. I never quite got comfortable in my seat, so sleep never came, however I was at least able to watch 3 movies on my personal entertainment unit - Jumper with Hayden Christensen, National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets with Nicolas Cage and the majority of 27 Dresses with whats-her-name from Grey's Anatomy and Knocked Up. I didn't actually see the end of 27 Dresses, but I am pretty sure based on what I saw that the lead girl from Grey's Anatomy was going to end up with Cyclops (or at least the actor James Marsden who played Cyclops in X-Men).

Despite the films, it was not a really pleasant experience, and my first thought on arriving in London was, "how quickly can I get to a bed and have a nap." Nothing against Air Canada (because it's not like any of the other airlines are better with their Economy Class offerings), but long distance air travel isn't that great.

There was a time, at least in my mind, when this probably wasn't the case. I imagine days in the past when silver bodied Lockheed Constellations flying New York-Gander-Shannon-Paris with all the passengers wearing suits and dresses, being served Lobster Thermidor by beautiful, young, blonde stewardesses.

I wrote about this previously in a blog post about my visit to see the Concorde, now grounded on a barge in the Hudson River as part of the Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum. Seeing the china place settings and bottle of Champagne, it got me thinking about the age of luxury air travel that I had missed. I wrote:

It was luxury air travel. I can imagine what it must have been like on board, flying from London to New York, sipping champagne and eating off Wedgwood china. It was a chance to forget about the drudgery of air travel. It was an opportunity, if only for a few precious hours, to forget about overcrowded airports, cranky security people and weather delays, and be part of the adventure and glamour of flying. It was the physical embodiment of what the phrase “jet set” conveys: fashion, wealth and privilege beyond the masses.

I was reading a post today that made me think of this topic again today, and got me a little moist-eyed at the thought.

A blog called "Cranky Flier," which usually covers airline news and events, today had a guest blogger today by the name of Tony France, who wrote about the Decline of First Class.

Mr. France joined American Airlines in 1986 or 87 (the post is a little muddled at that point), just a few years before the accountants and bean-counters got a hold of the airline industry. Mr. France says:

The big picture visionaries with outsized personalities who kept one eye on the future and did business with a handshake were slowly, inevitably replaced with Ivy League micro-managers who knew only P&L and ROI. Atmosphere is not quantifiable ergo luxury inevitably loses out to utility and optimization. Glamour, even my first fleeting taste of it, wasn’t to remain on the scene for much longer.

Mr. France writes about his first experience travelling first class on a trans-Atlantic flight, going to visit a friend in Paris. Mr. France, as an employee of American Airlines, got the privilege of flying across "the pond" as a "non-rev" passenger (i.e. he didn't pay, as in non-revenue) in the mid-to-late 80s. Mr. France describes an absolutely excellent meal (you need to read it for yourself, it had my mouth watering), and compares what he received back in the last 80s to what first class means today:

Today’s First Class is not about the food at all; Robert Crandall (former president and chairman of American Airlines) himself once said as much. It’s the seat. As flights have gotten longer and markets more competitive it is the onboard hardware, a combination of a Borg energy pod and a spa cubicle that allegedly drives the customer’s decision.

While I could certainly appreciate the joy of a lie flat seat after trying to manoeuvre myself (unsuccessfully) into a position that would be comfortable for sleeping on my recent flight, I do have to agree with Mr. France when he bemoans the passion for beds that lie flatter or TV screens with more on-Demand options at the expense of the atmosphere and experience of trans-continental travel:

So keep all the movies and shows, fellas, my laptop screen offers a larger and better picture. Better yet, send that huge library of stuff back to the masses in coach since they don’t have onboard power but for the most part have individual screens. Do something with the walls other than the usual mood-neutral blues and beiges. How about a world mural, like TWA used to have, or commemorative artwork like Pan Am once gave away? Could Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” as a bulkhead piece help turn Alitalia around? Italian art, Italian food and hospitality, Italian wines and leathers? How could they go wrong? But I digress - at least it would be something, anything, to evoke the old romance and glamour of flying, of discovering new destinations, even if the guy in Seat 1K is a million-miler who has seen it all before.

I too miss the old romance and glamour of flying, and would be happy to see it come back. Whether I would be willing to pay extra for it, now that's a whole different story, but there is something that is lacking in today's air travel.

Luckily for me, Rail Team is right at my doorstep. From St. Pancras station to Marseilles in just 6 hours and 17 minutes. Connections from London to as far as Japan, if you so choose, with a wide variety of classes of service.

Heck, I bet I can get a little caviar aboard the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express (even if it isn't quite the "real" Orient Express).

There was a song released by song in 1992 called "Bad Day for Trains" by Patricia Conroy. She's a Canadian, so maybe you never heard the song.

This past few weeks, though, have been bad days for planes.

It started in London Heathrow. The shiny new Terminal 5 at Heathrow Airport in London has turned from a story of the opening of a state of the art terminal to finally make LHR a nice airport into a public-relations disaster, with British Airways rethinking their move in schedule to the new terminal, and the executives at the airport getting called before a special session of the House of Commons transport committee.

The whole thing brings to mind the song "I'm So Worried" by the boys at Monty Python. Despite being written in 1980, seems very timely with the verse:

I'm so worried about what's hapenin' today, in the middle east, you know
And I'm worried about the baggage retrieval system they've got at Heathrow
I'm so worried about the fashions today, I don't think they're good for your feet
And I'm so worried about the shows on TV that sometimes they want to repeat

The Heathrow baggage mess has even spawned a video game, where you play British Airways CEO Willie Walsh in a game called Terminal Panic. You try and move the luggage from the pile on the floor to the luggage belts.

Then, to add to the mess, in the past few weeks 4 budget airlines have gone backrupt. Aloha Airgroup, ATA Airlines and Skybus Airlines in the USA and Oasis Airlines in Hong Kong have all stopped operating, cancelling all flights, leaving passengers stranded and potentially out of the cost of a flight.

Finally, in the past few days, American Airlines has cancelled 1000s of flights due to wiring problems in the MD80s, one of their most popular planes. This is all coming on the heels of the revelation that the FAA, the governing body of airline travel in the USA was allowing Southwest Airlines to fly planes that had missed important inspection dates.

Luckily for me, I haven't been travelling much in the past few months. I have been working in Toronto, which has gone from being snow-covered and cold to sunny and warm in just a few weeks. In fact, I have enjoyed more than a few casual beers on the open patios this past weekend.

It may be bad days for planes, and by extension business travellers, but luckily for me my business travel is way down and it's been a good few days for patio weather.

P.S. I know there isn't much point in this entry except that I felt a little bit like gloating over the fact that I have enjoyed sleeping in my own bed for much of the past two months, and to share the funny Terminal Panic game. Enjoy.

P.P.S My Dad is over in the UK right now, and hopefully won't get tied up by the mess at Heathrow. If he does, then I'll feel bad about my gloating, and will have to post an apology.