Ryan Air. Just saying those two
words draws laughs from some, concerned looks from others. This super-budget
regional airline was crafted for backpackers and those that place 0 value on
customer service. The journey from Paris to Dublin began with figuring out how
exactly to get to the airport that Ryan Air flies into in Paris. The problem
there was that despite the flight being from “Paris” to Dublin, our flight left
from a miniature airport 1.5 hours from Paris that looked like it was built to be a
temporary shanty home out in the middle of nowhere. Our confirmation e-mails
did not contain any info on this because that would ruin the fun. So our price
of transport went from a cheap 50 Euro to 68 Euro immediately. We caught a 6:30
a.m. shuttle bus to arrive at our doll house airport a bit early at 7:45, and followed some signs through our sagging eyelids to check-in. While we opted for mobile passes, Becca noticed the fine print on their mobile passes read "This mobile pass is not a mobile boarding pass," which might as well have read "GOTCHA!" So we found a window to print our passes, as there were no kiosks. Why? Because normally, it is 15 Euro per person to print your boarding passes. I just looked on Craigslist and found some used printers for less than $15, but Ryan Air wanted to charge us $66 to PRINT BOARDING PASSES. On a piece of standard printing paper. Luckily, the agent recognizes the pure ridiculousness of this entire idea, and did it for free. Plenty of time, it was 8 a.m. when we got in the first of 30 or so lines.
After a small snafu locating my passport within the large pocket of my suitcase, unpacking and then repacking, we hopped back in line. We got through the first line leading to security with no problem until the Ryan Air "agent" (or, a massive black man hired to calm the angry crowds), pointed at our suitcases and grunted something French. He then pointed to the miniature metal cage which is built to house a pet gerbil. Needless to say, none of our bags carrying our two weeks of survival materials fit. Becca tried and it looked like a triple scoop of ice cream sitting on a sugar cone. Not even close. Katie's and Aaron's weren't much better. But he only wanted Becca and I to go check our bags. Probably because we looked terrified of him. Whatever, plenty of time until our 9:25 flight, let's just do it.
So we waited.We reached the baggage check-in line by 8:18,
watching the clock tick and watching the security line we'd already
been through double, then triple in size. Ryan Air has more lines than Neuschwanstein Castle and Disney World combined. We made it to the front by 8:30, now starting to sweat a bit for our 9:25 am
flight. We shifted some clothes to backpacks, and our kind agent said
with a smile "35 Euro each, please!" Yes. 35 Euro to check a bag we were
being forced to check. 35 Euro almost doubled the price of the ticket itself. That, and we couldn't pay at the desk. Becca had to go pay at a separate window, then bring the receipt back, then they'd check our bags. Price of travel now 103
Euro. Well played, Ryan Air. Time now 8:35. We turned around and, well, that's it. The security line was now
reaching us from about a half mile down the hall. I remained calm in the
pocket. Becca started going through what we could do in Paris for the
day, since we obviously weren't making it.
We reached the front at 8:50, amazingly. 5 minutes to get through and get on the plane before the "gates closed" at 8:55
according to the signage that nobody believed. Problem: 3 lines were trying to merge into one. With
no other instruction, the Spanish speaking squad around us basically cut
the half hour line on the right, another dialect cut on the left. This
was basically a free for all at this junction. This is not an
exaggeration: there was a family rolling through with two strollers, and
I'm pretty one kid was 6 years old but put in a stroller to fly free.
They also had 12 bags among them, not including the strollers, but
claimed some of these monster duffle bags were actually their 3 and 6
year old childrens', which earned a miraculous thumbs up from the new gate agent. We reached
security at 8:55,
when the gates were supposed to close. For the first time, I began to lose hope. The mix of languages and
anger and confusion would be too tough for any form of crowd control.
Thankfully, Ryan Air is conditioned to operating within the realm of
pure chaos.
After a half-hearted effort at screening the masses proceeding through, we brisked through and made it by 9:03. No chance we were getting on. The nail in the coffin: stumbling into passport control, which there were 0 previous signs for. Amazingly, no line existed, though. This either meant that there is 0 passport control whatsoever, or we were too late. Somehow, we weren't. The gates never truly close at Ryan Air. We made it through, and to our gate, after a quick 1 hour and 20 minute total process. Aaron and Katie upon arrival: "Hey!! Where you been?!"
How was this possible?? Well, we were being sent out into the rain to wait more, that's why. You see, there were other disheveled cheap flyers that were currently de-planing. We were boarding a plane that had pulled in 5 minutes previously and was currently de-planing. No cleaning. Maybe some refueling. No safety checks. Maybe put out an engine fire if needed. Other than that: one group in, one out. Are you kidding me? This is essentially just a flying bus stop?!?
Pretty much. On board is a site to see. The backs of the seats were plastic yellow squares with the instructions in case of emergency. They fly over 20 million passengers per year, and boast of a 90% on time rate... but the other 10% are in the ocean somewhere. Hence, the emergency instructions in open view. One of them read: 'WARNING, you're about to fly Ryan Air!!!! You sure about this?'
Aaron and Katie and Becca were just audibly laughing at the entire situation at this point. Aaron was actually concerned that the whole plane was made of plastic, not just the seat backs. The plane is essentially what I designed in 3rd grade: a tin can with wings, just for fun. No first class, no complementary amenities, and an overly colorful bright yellow interior. Former roommate John Kinzer once described this is airline as a "flying McDonalds Playplace," and that's pretty dead accurate, sans the ball pit. In addition, the flight attendants are turned into part-time salesmen, and they actually have to buy their own uniforms and pay for their own training, as Ryan Air is run by one of the con artists turning profits by the Eiffel Tower. Probably.
I felt like we were on the Sacre Cour hillside again, getting accosted by vendors. Here are the things the flight attendants sold, in order: drinks -> snacks -> magazines -> morning newspaper -> drinks again -> makeup (?!) -> snacks again -> Insurance. I'm not positive on the last one, but through the muffled and possibly drunk flight attendant's announcement, I'm almost positive he said they were selling insurance. I believe they meant that it wasn't too late to get life insurance or medical insurance in case you didn't realize you were flying on Ryan Air.
I asked for a coffee at one point, not realizing that Ryan Air offers 0 complementary anything. Not even a seat pocket. Or a SkyMall to purchase a robotic dog house. This coffee made me almost burst out laughing. I am not a coffee snob by any means, but when I ask for one I have a baseline expectation that, at minimum, the coffee is brewed. Mine was not. The attendant opened the lid and poured hot water into the grinds sitting at the bottom and handed it to me. "Make sure you drink through the filter." "Um. What." "This part - this is the filter," she explained, pointing to the plastic lid which had a built-in mesh. To supplement this revolutionary coffee experience, I was also given a cup of condiments. So there I sat in the flying can mashed full of humans, drinking and chewing my coffee which had just been mixed with "Milk in a stick," or, milk coming from a little plastic baggy. My God you could at least have some dignity, Ryan Air! But coming from a business whose CEO honestly is exploring the possibility of flights where there are no seats and only standing, like it is a very literal Air Bus, I guess dignity is optional.
A few jumbled messages came from our pilot who probably just polished his 5th Guinness, and we'd landed. A tad roughly, but forgivable considering it was likely his 20th bus stop flight of the day. Off we got, in to more rain because Ryan Air doesn't believe in gates and/or "customer satisfaction," and on the next group got, through the other door. Incredible. We made it, I think. Still not entirely sure what just happened.
After a half-hearted effort at screening the masses proceeding through, we brisked through and made it by 9:03. No chance we were getting on. The nail in the coffin: stumbling into passport control, which there were 0 previous signs for. Amazingly, no line existed, though. This either meant that there is 0 passport control whatsoever, or we were too late. Somehow, we weren't. The gates never truly close at Ryan Air. We made it through, and to our gate, after a quick 1 hour and 20 minute total process. Aaron and Katie upon arrival: "Hey!! Where you been?!"
How was this possible?? Well, we were being sent out into the rain to wait more, that's why. You see, there were other disheveled cheap flyers that were currently de-planing. We were boarding a plane that had pulled in 5 minutes previously and was currently de-planing. No cleaning. Maybe some refueling. No safety checks. Maybe put out an engine fire if needed. Other than that: one group in, one out. Are you kidding me? This is essentially just a flying bus stop?!?
Pretty much. On board is a site to see. The backs of the seats were plastic yellow squares with the instructions in case of emergency. They fly over 20 million passengers per year, and boast of a 90% on time rate... but the other 10% are in the ocean somewhere. Hence, the emergency instructions in open view. One of them read: 'WARNING, you're about to fly Ryan Air!!!! You sure about this?'
Aaron and Katie and Becca were just audibly laughing at the entire situation at this point. Aaron was actually concerned that the whole plane was made of plastic, not just the seat backs. The plane is essentially what I designed in 3rd grade: a tin can with wings, just for fun. No first class, no complementary amenities, and an overly colorful bright yellow interior. Former roommate John Kinzer once described this is airline as a "flying McDonalds Playplace," and that's pretty dead accurate, sans the ball pit. In addition, the flight attendants are turned into part-time salesmen, and they actually have to buy their own uniforms and pay for their own training, as Ryan Air is run by one of the con artists turning profits by the Eiffel Tower. Probably.
I felt like we were on the Sacre Cour hillside again, getting accosted by vendors. Here are the things the flight attendants sold, in order: drinks -> snacks -> magazines -> morning newspaper -> drinks again -> makeup (?!) -> snacks again -> Insurance. I'm not positive on the last one, but through the muffled and possibly drunk flight attendant's announcement, I'm almost positive he said they were selling insurance. I believe they meant that it wasn't too late to get life insurance or medical insurance in case you didn't realize you were flying on Ryan Air.
I asked for a coffee at one point, not realizing that Ryan Air offers 0 complementary anything. Not even a seat pocket. Or a SkyMall to purchase a robotic dog house. This coffee made me almost burst out laughing. I am not a coffee snob by any means, but when I ask for one I have a baseline expectation that, at minimum, the coffee is brewed. Mine was not. The attendant opened the lid and poured hot water into the grinds sitting at the bottom and handed it to me. "Make sure you drink through the filter." "Um. What." "This part - this is the filter," she explained, pointing to the plastic lid which had a built-in mesh. To supplement this revolutionary coffee experience, I was also given a cup of condiments. So there I sat in the flying can mashed full of humans, drinking and chewing my coffee which had just been mixed with "Milk in a stick," or, milk coming from a little plastic baggy. My God you could at least have some dignity, Ryan Air! But coming from a business whose CEO honestly is exploring the possibility of flights where there are no seats and only standing, like it is a very literal Air Bus, I guess dignity is optional.
A few jumbled messages came from our pilot who probably just polished his 5th Guinness, and we'd landed. A tad roughly, but forgivable considering it was likely his 20th bus stop flight of the day. Off we got, in to more rain because Ryan Air doesn't believe in gates and/or "customer satisfaction," and on the next group got, through the other door. Incredible. We made it, I think. Still not entirely sure what just happened.
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