Over the weekend I travelled on a couple of Tiger Airways flights. Every time I fly Tiger I curse my own cheapness. There’s certainly nothing wrong with the planes or even the staff… sort of. One of the male flight attendants needed to be reminded that a shirt should be buttoned to the neck and not just under his nipples…it’s not Saturday Night Fever here dude…it’s a plane ride and I think he spent more time waxing his chest than memorising how to activate the emergency slide. The time where air travel was something to get excited about has passed. The anticipation of a trip to the airport and a plane journey used to make my tummy flip. What food would we get on the little magic trays? How many cans of lemonade could I consume before needing to climb over four people to reach the toilet and what B grade sitcom would we watch on our own personal screens, laughing together as a cabin with knowing smiles.
I work; I earn a living, why shouldn’t I go with Qantas? Why? Because I am a tight arse and find it agonisingly hard to ignore the $29.99 specials that Tiger continue to woo me with. But how quickly I’m reminded of the error of my ways when I am at the Tiger gate, sneakily transferring my bathroom bag and shoes into my big handbag to try and get my suitcase under the ridiculously tiny 7kg hand luggage limit. 7kg? My bag alone weighs that much, one outfit weighs that much….my boots weigh that much. Ridic. I pass the gates and re-pack my bag. What a silly show.
We trudge across the tarmac being guided by shivering flight attendants, people hurry to get ahead. I want to scream,
“RUN YOU IDIOTS… we’ve all got allocated seating! We’re all going on the same plane, morons, but YES DO RUN TO GET AHEAD OF ME… JERKS!”
We take our seats and I pray to the plane gods that they spare me from sitting next to the chatting octogenarian, the coughing teenager or god forbid a two year old. I flip through the lamo magazine fantasizing about Qantas and Deborah Hutton telling me all about the wonderful things I can do at my destination.
This journey I was lucky enough to be seated next to a woman who immediately revealed herself to be a full-blown mental lunatic. She sat for the entire journey with sheet music on her lap, humming and trilling along in falsetto… just under the note that only dogs can hear. Her music was housed in a Care Bears folder. Fantastic stuff.
When it came to mealtime the prepubescent flight attendant announced that Tiger no longer accepts cash. Credit card only to buy a Mars Bar or Pringles?!
Today it was announced that Tiger airways would be charging people to check in at the airport. You pay extra to stand in line. This isn’t anything new; EasyJet and Ryanair have been doing it for years.
I have one more pre booked tight arse flight, then I am renouncing cheap domestic plane journeys. I want Deborah Hutton, little cakes wrapped in cellophane and the 7kg baggage allowance paranoia to disappear. Please remind me of that next time Tiger has a 99c sale.
The opinions expressed in The 7PM Side Project blog do not necessarily reflect those of The 7PM Project or the Ten Network.
