easyjet?
A quick word before I go to sleep in a bed I might actually get some sleep in. It's 01:42 in the a.m., and I've been sitting here for half an hour or so, winding down after the easyjet experience.
Channel Tunnel: leaving at 04:30 and driving straight to Calais, arriving by 13:00, then putting up with the odd frustration as you queue to check in, queue at customs (it's always the British Customs what has the queues) and wait behind people who are ditherers. Then negotiating the M20, M25, and M1 to get home, perhaps, by 16:30, a cool 11+ hours on the road, frazzled, worn, tired, shagged, aching, swearing you'll never do it again in one day.
Or easyjet: leaving at 17:00; returning the hire car, hanging around till check-in time, hanging around in the boarding area; hanging around just past the boarding area; hanging around waiting for the plane to take off; a short flight at 400 knots ground speed; scary bloody turbulence as you descend to land; breaking out in a cold sweat of nausea and fear; landing; schlepping with hand luggage all through the maze at Luton airport, only to find a pile of people waiting at, you guessed it, passport control, while two (2) (that's just two people) examine every single passport of every single aggrieved, red faced, tired, bored, angry, frustrated passenger, most of them British, most of them never having to go through this shit anywhere else in Europe; about 6 planes worth of people already waiting, and another six arrive before you even look like you're getting near the front of the queue; people pushing in, random queuing, police called because people are daring to express a little bit of anger (ooh, can't have any airport rage); an hour of that; then find bags, thrown randomly off carousel about 50 minutes before; then wait 20 mins for bus to car park; hang around while bus loads; while bus unloads; finally get in own car and dash home, arriving 01:00. 9 hours.
Okay, so it wasn't 11 hours on the road, it was, hey! two less than that, but at almost every single stage, everything is out of your control; you're a helpless and bored passenger, and then victim of the whims of UK.gov and its apparent policy of hassling and illegally detaining its own citizens while you ask the question - didn't they come from Leeds, Birmingham, Luton etc.? Or am I missing something obvious that took place while I was away? Why am I carrying an exhausted 4 year old child in a hot and angry and impatient crowd at 11 o clock at night while some minor functionary looks with glazed eyes at passports and waves people slowly through?
At least if we'd been in the car, the kids would have got some sleep. My wife would have got some sleep. So the driver arrives feeling like crap, but I conclude it is a small price to pay.
Channel Tunnel: leaving at 04:30 and driving straight to Calais, arriving by 13:00, then putting up with the odd frustration as you queue to check in, queue at customs (it's always the British Customs what has the queues) and wait behind people who are ditherers. Then negotiating the M20, M25, and M1 to get home, perhaps, by 16:30, a cool 11+ hours on the road, frazzled, worn, tired, shagged, aching, swearing you'll never do it again in one day.
Or easyjet: leaving at 17:00; returning the hire car, hanging around till check-in time, hanging around in the boarding area; hanging around just past the boarding area; hanging around waiting for the plane to take off; a short flight at 400 knots ground speed; scary bloody turbulence as you descend to land; breaking out in a cold sweat of nausea and fear; landing; schlepping with hand luggage all through the maze at Luton airport, only to find a pile of people waiting at, you guessed it, passport control, while two (2) (that's just two people) examine every single passport of every single aggrieved, red faced, tired, bored, angry, frustrated passenger, most of them British, most of them never having to go through this shit anywhere else in Europe; about 6 planes worth of people already waiting, and another six arrive before you even look like you're getting near the front of the queue; people pushing in, random queuing, police called because people are daring to express a little bit of anger (ooh, can't have any airport rage); an hour of that; then find bags, thrown randomly off carousel about 50 minutes before; then wait 20 mins for bus to car park; hang around while bus loads; while bus unloads; finally get in own car and dash home, arriving 01:00. 9 hours.
Okay, so it wasn't 11 hours on the road, it was, hey! two less than that, but at almost every single stage, everything is out of your control; you're a helpless and bored passenger, and then victim of the whims of UK.gov and its apparent policy of hassling and illegally detaining its own citizens while you ask the question - didn't they come from Leeds, Birmingham, Luton etc.? Or am I missing something obvious that took place while I was away? Why am I carrying an exhausted 4 year old child in a hot and angry and impatient crowd at 11 o clock at night while some minor functionary looks with glazed eyes at passports and waves people slowly through?
At least if we'd been in the car, the kids would have got some sleep. My wife would have got some sleep. So the driver arrives feeling like crap, but I conclude it is a small price to pay.
posted by Anonymous at
Saturday, August 13, 2005
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