226 Edinburgh-Gothenburg (Ryanair): A very quiet EDI today, as you might well expect from a Saturday afternoon in mid-January. Hardly anyone downstairs at check-in, and security took under two minutes to negotiate. In fact I don’t think I’d ever seen the airport so quiet, I could even have gotten a table in Wetherspoon’s if I so desired. However, mindful of the fact I was still waiting on the results of my annual diabetes check-up, I opted for a nice salad and a bottle of water from Boots instead.
This weekend’s flights had cost the princely sum of £48 return, and it would have been even less if I hadn’t paid for my preferred seats. There is of course a reason why budget airlines sell seats so cheap; it’s not out of the kindness of their hearts, but because they haven’t sold enough seats for the flight and risk running it at a loss. So I wasn’t expecting a particularly busy service today, which was borne out by the number of people at the gate for departure. I briefly considered a rough headcount to get an idea of the numbers and then had the question answered in unexpected detail by a frustrated ground agent; ‘C’mon folks, the bus holds 100 passengers and there’s only 81 of you today, can you please move up a bit?’ Well that answered that. Incidentally, it must be so annoying to pay for priority boarding just to be stuck on the same bus as everyone else, what a waste of money.
Once onboard we had the usual pre-departure shuffle you get on half-empty flights, when the miserable cunts who are too mean or feckless to pay in order to sit beside their travelling companions get up and start swapping seats. The flight was fairly short, but I treated myself to a cider as it was the first trip of the year. The only incident of concern was when we were told there was turbulence ahead and the seat-bealt sign went on, at which point the pilots left the cockpit, (one after another), to use the bathroom. Were they shitting themselves at the prospect of some turbulence? Why were they allowed to use the loo during turbulence when the rest of us had to strap ourselves in? What if one of them got sent flying by an unexpected wave whilst wandering the cabin and were incapacitated? Since there was barely a tremble of the wings during the next fifteen minutes, I suspect the turbulence was simply a ruse so they could get to use the bathroom uninterrupted…
With a direct flight for once, this meant I would get a Swedish stamp in my passport instead of yet another one from the Dutch immigration at Schipol. As I expected, immigration at GOT was a fairly small arrangement, a mere two desks with not much of a queue. And as with my last arrival at GOT, the airport bus was waiting outside and ready to depart within a minute or so of my boarding. A massively pleasant contrast to the usual headfuck landing at EDI always seems to be.
227 Gothenburg-Edinburgh (Ryanair): Was at the terminal a little earlier than was really neccessary, but fuck me it was bloody cold in Gothenburg and I was keen to just sit down somewhere warm. And it gave me plenty of time to buy more Finnish chocolate, which is always the highlight of any visit to Sweden.
Quite a few familiar faces at the airport today, including the bunch of weegie students who I had spotted in my local last night, as well as the two girls who had been sitting opposite me on the outbound flight. I also had the same border officer, who could not for the life of her find the entry stamp that she herself had put in my passport less than 48 hours ago. I was just about to helpfully direct her to page 15 to find it when she finally managed to track it down, buried deep amongst a forest of Schipol entry and exit stamps. The flight was routine, with the half-empty aircraft prompting another game of musical chairs before departure. And once again the pilots announced some upcoming turbulence and then promptly went to the toilet; there’s something going on there…
222 Edinburgh-Amsterdam (KLM): Slightly melancholy feels on the way to EDI this morning as this was the last trip of the year. although I would finally be ticking Norway off the list. The weather was bitterly cold with salt already covering the pavements, which made me wonder why the windows were open on the airport bus. The airport wasn’t particularly busy for a Friday morning, although mid-November isn’t really peak travel time for most. Whilst wandering the terminal I spotted the signage for KLM at Gate 17, and naturally assumed that this would be the departure gate. So I was a little surprised to find it was actually Gate 14. And since the signs with the queueing directions were still at Gate 17, this resulted in a bit of a chaotic rugby scrum at boarding, with nobody knowing where they were supposed to go and the gate agent screaming at them to get back in line (although nobody knew exactly what line she meant as there were no signs), before stropping off in a huff, muttering that we were all idiots and it wasn’t her fault. Which is fair, as it is clearly the responsibility of the passengers to ensure the right signs are at the gate so we all know where to queue. Said nobody ever. Egg mayo sandwiches this morning, which disappeared into my bag and then into a bin at Schipol.
223 Amsterdam to Bergen (KLM): When I originally booked this trip I had a 2hr transit at Schipol before heading to Norway, so I was more than surprised to receive an itinerary with a nine and ahalf hour transit in Amsterdam, with my original flight to Bergen vanished into the ether. Presumably it was cancelled for ‘operational reasons’. but nine hours is a long time in any airport, so I headed out through security and out into the Netherlands for a daytip in torrential rain to Zaanse Schaans.
I arrived back at Schipol six hours later, slightly damp and laden down with Nijntje goodies from the Hema in Zaandam. En route to security I was accosted by a salesman with some beauty products who insisted on smothering something on my nose to clean the pores and buffing a few nails before being rather disappointed to find that I did not want to spend ninety Euros on his wonder cream or whatever it was.
The flight clearly wasn’t going to be full, as an announcement went out before boarding asking if anyone would sit in row 14 at the emergency exits, which was a bit of a first. And I scored an empty row again to enjoy another egg mayo sandwich (carry-on bag, then bin at the tram stop at Danmarkplass). And whilst I’m sure the descent into BGO is probably very scenic, it would be completely invisible at 11pm, so I wasn’t tempted to shift over to the window seat. First impressions of the airport were very similar to GOT last month, modern, stylish and Scandi. And there was a very pleasant surprise on arrival when I discovered a duty-free shop, where I took the opportunity to start my beer shopping early at considerably reduced prices.
224 Bergen-Amsterdam (KLM): The tram from the city to the airport was a fairly lengthy and dull affair, which was livened up considerably on arrival when some poor traveller dropped an incautiously balanced bag of wine bottles and smashed them all over the concourse. Oh dear. BGO was fairly quiet, with a clutch of automatic bag drops upstairs at departures and very few staff to be seen. So it was annoying when I tried to check my bag and was instructed to see a desk agent, as there were none around. Almost an hour passed before an actual KLM check-in desk opened, where I was cheerfully informed that my bag had to be checked by staff as I was leaving the Schengen Zone. Another wonderful benefit to be grateful to Brexit for, what glorious sunlit uplands British travellers live in nowadays. Despite a 30min delay the flight down to AMS was routine, and I took the opportunity to stock up on more beers at the duty free beforehand, although I resisted the temptation to buy some Fazer advent calendars.
225 Amsterdam-Edinburgh (KLM): Just one final cheese sandwich to go before being finished with KLM for the year, I headed to my gate at AMS in the knowledge that with this trip I had now maintained silver status for another year. However, on arrival at the gate it looked like this had the potential to be another ’embarrassed-to-be-Scottish’ flight; a bunch of young lads were careening around the gate area, blind drunk and generally being fannies. With the various delays at AMS today due to fog, it seemd their original flight to ABZ had been cancelled earlier in the day and they had been rerouted onto this one.
The problems started as soon as boarding was complete and the safety demonstration started, when one of them decided it would be fun to film it. With KLM’s strict policy on not filming crew or passengers without their consent, this immediately drew the ire of the purser, who stormed down the aisle to confront them and insist on seeing the pictures/video being deleted. A brief war of words erupted, which at one point made me think we were gonna be heading back to the gate to deplane someone. Although this would have been tremendously amusing, I was also mindful of the fact that I was working tomorrow, and didn’t want to be delayed by an hour. Luckily the flashpoint passed and there was no need to taxi back and relieve ourselves of a fanny. And it was pleasing to see the crew would not serve them any alchohol later on, with a puzzled shrug from the stewardess answering their entreaties. Shame this crew hadn’t been on that flight in January 2020…
210 Edinburgh-Amsterdam (KLM): Once again I decided to keep KLM on their toes by booking the lunchtime flight for a change, meaning a relaxed morning making my way out to EDI. The airport was a little busier than I expected for lunchtime on a Thursday, but security was quick and organised as always. A last minute trip to the bookshop turned out to be a particularly protracted affair, with the only assistant boring the arse off the customer in front of me with a lengthy explanation of how distributors choose what books go to what store. I only wanted a postcard for my Airbnb host for my traditional thank you note, having forgotten to pick one up earlier in the week.
Flight was pretty busy, including a young family in the row behind me who needed a gentle reminder from the cabin crew to please stop fucking around deciding what bags you needed for take-off and sit the fuck down with your kid so she could signal the cabin was ready for departure. Sorry, but if you decide to have children then you have to accept that you just cannot travel for the next ten years, or that the vast majority of your fellow passengers are going to utterly despise you. Today we had the cheese sandwiches, which I accepted before remembering I was trying to avoid eating too much for a very good reason.
211 Amsterdam-Vienna (KLM): Schipol wasn’t particularly busy on arrival, and as I had over four hours transit time I was able to meander around the shops a little and take my time getting through the Schengen border. And as I had such a long transit time on this trip, I had decided to finally treat myself to the KLM Crown Lounges en route (motivated slightly by the 25% discount I now received thanks to my silver status). My only previous lounge experiences had ranged from dismal at the Swissport lounge in GNV to very good at the new Aspire lounge in EDI; hopefully I could expect more of the latter than the former.
Having found the lounge, getting access was straightforward enough, all I had to do was scan my boarding pass at the entrance. This was the smaller of the two Crown Lounges at Schipol, and I was slightly worried that it would be a little busy, but it was actually barely a third occupied. The area was a fair size, with a nice mix of seating, a bar area, hot and cold buffets and some coffee shops. That said, some of the fixtures and fittings were a bit worn out, with some ripped seats, carpet stains and blocked toilets. I plumped for a big, unripped comfy armchair, dumped my bag (I presumed the usual concerns about leaving your stuff lying around in airports didn’t apply in a lounge) and immediately headed for the bar and poured myself a respectable glass of Heineken. Encouraged by my non-foamy success, I soon headed back for a second, along with a whisky soda. Seeing all the self-serve optics made me wish I’d brought my water bottle, although it was only Teacher’s.
There was a reason for the blistering drinking pace, as I wanted plenty of time to potentially sober up a little before departure, so I had resolved to only drink for the first hour or so, (although obviously I wanted to get my thirty quid’s worth!). Pleasantly relaxed by a few drinks and having enjoyed a bit of my book, I decided to head for the hot buffet. The selection was ok at first glance, but closer inspection showed the offerings in the large bowls wasn’t what you might have hoped; the penne bolognese was just very dry, meatless pasta, and the sweet and sour chicken was essentially a bowl of green beans which needed a magnifying glass to find any chicken in. And after heaping my little plate with as much as I could balance on it, I also found it was all pretty lukewarm. The curry soup was nice though, and I took a few bowls of that. I sampled the cold buffet after, which was a decent selection of meat and cheese, breads, salads and vegetables. Plus some brownies and donuts, which I should have left alone but obviously did not. Twice. And after having spent a few hours trying to get my money’s worth in food and drink, I was happy to retire to a quiet corner and continue with my book for the remainder of my visit, especially as the lounge was starting to fill up considerably. Much better than GNV, not quite as good as EDI.
Wined and dined after a few hours in the lounge, I headed for my evening flight to Vienna. Opted for an aisle seat, as I didn’t think the views on my 10:20 pm arrival would be particularly interesting, plus I wanted a quick deplaning in order to head to try and reach my hotel before midnight. Another cheese sandwich was on offer, which I didn’t need at this stage, and the flight was pretty uneventful otherwise.
Had only visited VIE once eight years previously, so I didn’t remember much about the layout. What I had forgotten was how utterly spotless the place was. The luggage was available pretty quickly after landing and I was through arrivals in plenty of time for my super-cautious 23:19 train booking to the city. Although almost all of the shops, cafes and restaurants were closed at this time, I took the opportunity to do a bit of scouting for my pre-departure shopping next week.
212 Vienna-Amsterdam (KLM): For the return to VIE I didn’t bother going through the city, instead opting for a direct Flixbus from Most SNP in Bratislava. The journey was a little less lively than the bus to Bratislava a few days earlier, when the booking computer had placed me in the middle of a German hen night, who had happily shared some schnapps and snogs en route. I was a little too cautious in the timing of the booking, arriving at VIE well ahead of time. But at least this meant I could get a few more radlers for my checked bag and a belated first schnitzel from the airport supermarket. There was a brief flashpoint at the check-in counter, when the agent realised the French couple in front of me were not entitled to be using the priority bag drop, and gave them a good scolding in front of the lengthy queue. Security was a scoosh, leaving plenty of time to browse the retail options. Picked up a few gifts for friends and family, and I was also tempted by an ice-cold glass of lager at the little bar beside my gate.
The flight was one of those ‘lawless’ ones where it seemed nobody cared about anything. The passenger behind me had somehow gotten a carry-on bag the size of a coffin onboard, which was so big it barely fit under the seat in front of me, before the cabin crew advised it would be a lot better in the luggage bin. A woman in the row in front of me had to be told three times to put her tray table up before landing, and then put it back down again anyway as soon as the cabin crew were seated. Sandwiches were cheese again, but this time I remembered to turn mine down to save my appetite for the Crown Lounge again.
213 Amsterdam-Edinburgh (KLM): Today I had an even longer transit time of over five hours, which had made me wonder about maybe leaving the airport for a flying visit to Amsterdam, Haarlem or even Zandvoort. But then I remembered I had bought a bottle of schnapps at VIE, which I would now lose if I left the airport and then had to go back through security, so that plan had to be scrapped. The queue at the border was non-existent, (which was most un Schipol-like), on the one day I was in no rush whatsoever.
The non-Schengen Crown Lounge was at least twice the size of the Schengen one I had visited last week. This time I would have to eat and drink even more in order to get my forty-two quid’s worth. Despite the bigger size, everything else was pretty much the same as the other one with a few additional perks; the bar had zero-alcohol Heineken, (which was served in a glass with a massive chunk out of the rim), and there was an outdoors terrace to enjoy your drink in the sunshine (which was closed). The hot buffet was barely warm again. This I could put up with, but what I could not deal with was the incessant background music. I couldn’t remember if there had been music in the other lounge last week, but wherever I went today I could not escape it, roaming endlessly from one end of the lounge to the other with my book and beer trying to find a quiet spot. Eventually I gave up and left the lounge after only ninety minutes, and opted for a quiet corner of the airport library on Holland Boulevard instead.
Flight home was fine (cheese yet again), but as always EDI had some late night ineptitude to show us on arrival. This time it was the ‘no gate agent to lead us to the terminal’ routine, which I’ve already had a few times. As the minutes ticked by and we waited impatiently on the aircraft to deplane, I could see the luggage was already being unloaded; at least someone was getting off the fucking aircraft. Fifteen minutes later a member of ground staff eventually arrived to guide us from our aircraft that had arrived exactly when it had been expected to. At least there was no queue at the border, which led to everyone ducking under all the barriers en masse towards the egates, much to the annoyance of the one airport worker who was trying to control us. If I could arrive at any other airport I would.
Edinburgh-Geneva (Easyjet): After the KLM flight to Amsterdam, the Easyjet flight to Geneva must be my second most travelled route. EDI wasn’t as busy as I might have expected for a Saturday morning on a bank holiday weekend. Having gotten through security without any fuss, I found my usual quiet spot out on the East pier, where I noted with alarm that there was a large stag party about to board the morning flight to Berlin at Gate 18. Since I would be getting on the same flight next Saturday morning, I hoped this wasn’t something I’d be seeing next week. Whilst waiting to board, for some reason I randomly decided to buy my first ever copy of National Geographic from the newsagents.
Once onboard I was delighted to find that, despite being a fairly busy flight, I had achieved the holy grail of an empty row. There was a little bit of pre-flight chaos before we got under way though. Firstly, there was an argument involving someone in the exit row behind me, who objected to being told to put their bags and coats in the locker for takeoff. Then a young man decided to move seats before takeoff, earning a stern lecture on weight and balance from the crew. With all these issues, shoutout to veteran cabin manager Julie, a no-nonsense ginger weegie who was taking no shit from anyone and soon put everyone in their place (literally!). There was also a slight departute delay due to the ongoing French air traffic controllers strikes. As the captain pointed out, it would be hard for us to get to Switzerland without flying over France, but they would do their best to make up the time en route.
In recent months I’ve been tending towards booking aisle seats, as I’ve seen (and filmed) most of Europe from the air by now. Plus I don’t trust my ageing bladder to last two hours. But I’ll always make an exception for flying into Geneva, which is always great for the views. And having an empty row, (along with easy toilet access), I decided to treat myself to a beer. Easyjet were now stocking Jubel, a peach lager which I’d had the pleasure of sampling when the rep had come into my local recently. With an empty row, fruity lager and stunning mountain views, the flight was about as pleasant as it could be.
When we arrived at GNV last year I had seen the new terminal building that had been built since my last visit pre-Covid. I had a lot more time to admire it this time, as the queue for the border was pretty lengthy. In fact, it was so lengthy that I was starting to get seriously worried about making my connection across town to Annemasse and my train onwards into the Alps. Twenty-five minutes later though and I was through, and was heading into town with just enough time to briefly admire Lac Leman en route to France.
Geneva=Edinburgh (Easyjet): After a pleasant few hours in the Geneva sunshine, it was time to head back to GNV for my flight. Security was pretty quick, and might have been even faster if the woman in front of me hadn’t been trying to enter the security area by scanning the barcode on her luggage receipt stuck to the back of her passport. How do some people even get dressed in the morning, let alone travel to another country…
The last time I’d departed from here I’d had the dubious pleasure of Swissport’s underwhelming lounge. Today I would have to entertain myself, and was reminded how appallingly expensive this airport was. Fortunately I’d had the foresight to purchase a sandwich and snacks from Lidl in the city before heading out here, but I still had to fork out £4 for a bottle of water. After boarding, by some miracle I found that once again I had achieved the holy grail of an empty row. This meant another can of Jubel for the flight home, which was otherwise uneventful.
Edinburgh-Amsterdam (KLM): Just for once I decided to mix things up a bit by getting the afternoon flight to Schipol. It would be slightly more expensive, but that was ok as I had my £25 discount voucher that KLM recently gave me for my birthday. As it turned out the voucher didn’t work, but I was glad of the long lie for a change. The later departure also meant that for once I could also get a bus into town with my checked bag full of Irn-Bru for a certain someone. I forgot about some of the recently acquired perks of my silver status though, arriving at EDI a lot earlier than I needed to considering I had priority baggage drop and wouldn’t need to queue. The airport was a bit busier than I might have expected on a Thursday afternoon in March, but not so busy that I still couldn’t find a quiet corner to wait in peace.
Another of my recent perks is priority boarding, the operation of which remained something of an enigma. I can’t remember any announcements or signage telling me that I was welcome to board at my leisure, but I wasn’t really bothered anyway, as I only had my small cabin bag. There was a slight delay after boarding, as our departure was held due to heavy traffic at AMS. The only other excitement onboard the short hop across the channel was wondering if it would be the cheese (yay!) or the egg mayo (boak!) sandwiches. Beemsters won out this time, meaning I didn’t have to discreetly drop my sandwich into my bag for disposal later on.
The delayed departure didn’t have much effect on the flight time, but the wait at the baggage carousel did. Luckily I had rather prudently booked my train to Rotterdam for a full hour after arrival, so when my bag finally turned up I still had plenty of time to peruse the options at Schipol Plaza before catching my train.
Amsterdam-Edinburgh (KLM): Much as I love some of their train stations, I do find the workings of Nedelandse Spoorwegen a bit of a mystery sometimes. With a few hours to kill in Rotterdam before my train to Schipol, naturally I hoped to leave my bags in one of the station luggage lockers. The only problem was that the lockers were beyond the ticket barriers, something I have never seen in a single train station in all my travels across the globe. Could I use my tickets barcode to enter the station, deposit the luggage, exit the station, then re-enter it again a few hours later? I had my doubts, so I asked one of the staff at the ticket barriers. Rather than answer, he took my phone from me, waved it at a gate and pushed me through it. I guess I would find out the hard way. Turned out I was able to re-enter again later, but it still seemed very strange.
Another mystery was what happened to my direct train. Having collected my bags, I scoured all the departure screens for any sign of my express, but neither the train, its departure time or its service number were anywhere to be found. I eventually gave up and found an alternative which would take three times as long and stop at almost every station in both Zuid and Nord Holland en route, but I had plenty of time to spare (more than I realised as it turned out…)
There was still time for a little pre-departure shopping before checking my bag, so I purchased a few last cans of beer from Albert Heijn (which I’m sure I was undercharged for). Having repacked my checked bag with the extra beers, I headed upstairs to deposit it. There were plenty of staff available at desks 12-15, however, only one of them seemed to be doing any baggage checking. Fortunately enough they were kind enough to let me intrude on their conversation for a few moments to check my luggage and head off to departures. Security was a little better, where the multi-tasking staff there were able to have a conversation and process passengers at the same time. The border could have done with one or two more officers though; if you’ve got time to count the fifty-three people in front of you in the queue, then the two open desks are probably not enough.
But time was not an issue this evening. Having made a few small purchases, I was then alerted to the fact that my flight was delayed by fifty minutes. This was due to the flight crew being delayed on an earlier flight they were operating. Schipol is a great airport with many facilities, but nobody needs an extra hour in any airport anywhere ever, especially when one of the few things still open is the Heineken Bar. The delay turned out to be a little over an hour, longer than the actual flight (and its cheese sandwich, yay!)
As frustrating as AMS can be though, EDI was all set to outdo it in a late-night show of hopeless incompetence. Witness the twenty minute wait for a set of stairs to get us off the aircraft. Be astonished at the half-hour wait at the UK Border. Marvel at the further forty minutes for baggage. A shambolic excuse of an airport, which I dearly wish I could avoid using sometimes.
Edinburgh-Madrid (Easyjet); I was pretty annoyed when my original flight for this was cancelled and I was rebooked onto one the day before. An extra night’s accommodation to pay for, another day of spending money to add to the budget and another valuable day of annual leave swallowed up. That said, come the day of the flight, I wasn’t terribly unhappy to be travelling just after lunch on a thursday rather than a dawn departure on a friday, so maybe the change was no bad thing.
EDI was a bit busier than I might have expected for the time and day of departure. And unlike the dozzy heights of my last trip, there was no lounge access or business upgrades today, just a Boots sandwich in a quiet corner and waiting for the gate announcement. When it came to boarding, I amused myself by playing Easyjet bingo; original flight cancelled? Yup. Bins full of coats and jackets? Yup. Spurious announcement about someone with a nut allergy onboard? Yup
The flight was fairly full, and it felt even more so with the gentleman sitting beside me having particularly wide knees and elbows. But there were some fine views en route as we hugged the almost perfectly straight line of the French Atlantic coast before crossing the western edge of the Pyrenees. And as it was my birthday trip I treated myself to a can of Rekordilig whilst I enjoyed the views.
Adolfo Suarez Madrid-Barejas was a new airport for me, and it was nice to see a few unfamiliar tailfins as we taxiid across the apron. The terminal was pretty big, but not too crowded, with hardly any queue at the border. But once a crowd started building up, extra border officers quickly appeared to alleviate the situation, an absolutely mad idea that will never catch on.
Once through the formalities, finding the metro station to head into town was quite the mission, involving a lengthy hike and a fairly useless information desk assistant. But I got there eventually and managed to work out how to use the ticket machines. There was, however, a brief moment of alarm en route when the first station name didn’t seem to match the network map, but it was all fine.
Santander-Edinburgh (Ryanair): Seve Ballesteros-Santander was another new airport for me, the 50th I’d flown from as it turned out, and the first one I’d had named after a golfer. And very conveneintly located it was too, just a fifteen minute ride from the bus station for a few euros.
Having looked at the flight schedule I wasn’t expecting anything particularly grand or lavish, and I wasn’t disappointed. The terminal building was at least modern, if modest. Security was a matter of minutes, although I was a bit surprised at being asked to take my trainers off. Post-security, there was a small duty-free store and a little cafeteria. Not the smallest airport I’d been in, but definitely on the petite side. Not the most organised either, as once the flight began boarding, the regular queue somehow ended up on the aircraft before the priority one.
The flight was routine, with the only incident of note being two particularly brain-dead flight attendants struggling to understand my seatmate’s request for some chips. I listened with growing exasparation to the exchange, with one of them trying to explain that there was only chips with the chicken nuggets and that they couldn’t be separated. I was almost at the point of screaming SHE MEANS CRISPS FOR FUCKS SAKE, SHE’S SPANISH, THEY CALL THEM CHIPS when dumb and dumber finally got the message, and provided her with a pipe of Pringles.
Edinburgh-Milan Malpensa (Easyjet): With the sound of Sophie Ellis-Bextor still ringing in my ears from the previous night’s gig, I was understandably distracted on the bus to the airport this morning. So I was surprised to find the bus reaching Newbridge roundabout, before looping back onto the A8 and back the way we had come. Was the driver daydreaming,.or hungover? Nope, he was simply avoiding the small lake that had formed on the usual slip road during yesterday’s biblical rain.
This was my first time flying on NYE for three years, and I had forgotten how busy the airport can be. I had also forgotten what a busy airport actually looked like, having worked at GLA for the last few weeks. Security was a little longer than normal, but still better than most UK airports (it would have been slightly quicker if some prick hadn’t ignored the staff and pinched my assigned space at the belt). With the airport being a bit busier I decided to forego my usual cider at the pub in order to have something on board instead, and opted just to wait in a quiet corner until boarding.
After boarding, I was slightly surprised at my two seatmates offering to go sit somewhere else if the flight was quiet, why would they say that? Perhaps the young couple had something sordid in mind to pass the time (I actually saw them the next day in Como, but they didn’t spot me). The flight was full anyway, but at least I was sitting near the last few rows, which would mean I would get served my postponed cider quicker. Or so I thought. The cabin crew shot past everyone without any warning, before being stopped about six rows further on. The fact that they were both wearing masks didn’t help, as nobody heard them offering drinks and snacks as they went on their merry way. A swift and unflinching zero for the crew in the skytraxx review. But hang on…fifteen minutes later they were asking pax again as they made their way back to the aft galley. Yet despite trying to attract their attention they drifted past without a care in the world, deeply involved in their own conversation. Incredible. Their zero was now in minus figures. As Easyjet weren’t usually this woeful, I put it down to the fact that this was an Easyjet Europe flight, where presumably customer service is allowed to plummet to British Airways levels of uselessness.
After the non-service, I drifted off for a while, which was surprising as I’d had a good night’s sleep and an 11.45 departure is hardly a redeye flight. Fortunately I woke just in time for some splendid views over what appeared to be my destination, Lake Como (a quick check of the route on Flight Radar confirmed this).
Arriving at Malpensa the airport was a bit bigger than I expected, but fairly modern-looking and stylish, which I probably should have expected. The sculptures and photography exhibitions were also unexpected too, but again, probably should have been. After all, this is a stylish country. The border was a bit strange though; I was surprised to be directed to the egates with my British passport, as I knew that I now needed stamps upon entry/exit from the Schengen Zone. And sure enough, having been checked at the egates, the screen then instructed me to go to the desk to have my passport stamped. What was the point in even going through the egates, why not just send me straight to a desk in the first place…
Milan Malpensa-Edinburgh (Easyjet); A dawn departure is nothing new, but it was quite a while since I’d done it on a return flight. As I’d never been to Italy and used their trains before, I decided to spend the previous evening in Milan at a hotel near the train station, rather than risk any issues making my way from Como at 5am. As it turned out there were no problems with the trains, and I made sure I was extra early anyway so that I could take some pictures of the magnificent Milano Centralo station.
The airport wasn’t particularly busy when I arrived, although security seemed a bit crazy and chaotic. It was better than it looked though, and I was through in ten minutes, before once again going through the pointless routine of using the egates then being told to go get a stamp in my passport. Are Italian border officers incapable of just checking a passport, or did the Italian government spend so much on the egates that they feel they need to make the most of them?
It was quick though, which meant plenty of time for a little duty-free shopping. Being a sizeable airport, I assumed Malpensa would still have a sizeable selection of shops, restaurants and bars post-Schengen border. But you know what they say, never assume as it makes an ass out of u and me. Although the non-Schengen area was fairly sizeable, sadly the retail options were not. A scooter-shaped fridge magnet and a panini were all I had to show for my visit.
The flight was fairly routine, tbough I was surprised to once again doze off for a short time after take-off, as again I’d had plenty of sleep the night before. The crew were a little more attentive with their service this time but I wasn’t in the mood for anything. So I spent the remainder of the flight organising the pictures and videos on my phone, and landed with the glow of satisfaction of someone who has all his photos edited and ready to post on social media. There was practically no queue at the border on arrival, and the inevitable finally happened when I met a colleague I knew from border force. I suppose that, statistically, it was bound to happen, I suppose I was just surprised it hadn’t happened sooner…
190 Edinburgh-Reykjavik (Easyjet); Usually the traditional Airwaves flight has been accompanied by some sort of special occasion, like being the 100th flight, first trip with a new passport etc. There was no special occasion today though, I was just happy to finally be returning to Reykjavik for the first time after Covid, not to mention attending my first Iceland Airwaves for four years. And to mark the occasion I was treating myself to the rare luxury of a checked bag.
Like last month’s trip to Nimes, this was another afternoon departure, a pleasant change from all the pre-dawn trips to the airport earlier in the year. In fact, the departure time was scheduled for a few hours later than it always had been in the past, which meant the rare luxury of spending the afternoon beforehand just pottering around Stockbridge, buying books and generally relaxing. When I finally made my way out to EDI in the late afternoon the airport was relatively busy for a Sunday afternoon, but it took a mere five minutes to check my bag (one thing about Easyjet, it’s a lot simpler to use their bag drop than it is to queue and check bags with KLM/Air France). And the terminal wasn’t so busy that I couldn’t find a table at Wetherspoons for my pre-departure alcohol-free Kopparberg.
The flight was routine, but there was the usual announcement about having no nut products on board due to a passenger having an allergy; I’ve heard this so many times on Easyjet flights now that I’m convinced that it’s bogus. On arrival I received my first ever Icelandic passport stamp, (thank you Brexit), and made full use of the duty-free store at arrivals to buy a 10-pack of Gull’s Christmas beer before leaving KEF. Once outside I was immediately reminded of how miserable and unhappy a place Iceland can be when it’s wet. And it only took two minutes outside in the driving rain to discover that one of my shoes was apparently leaking, and it would seem that a long, squelchy week might lie ahead.
As it was a while since I’d been here on my own I had to make do with getting into Reykjavik with the airport express bus for a change. And since my apartment was at the far end of Laugavegur I had opted for the additional hotel drop-off service, which I was now mightily glad of when I saw the weather. The instructions for changing buses at BSI weren’t super clear from all involved, but I managed to find my connecting mini-bus at the other side of the terminal building, although there was no driver (or any other passengers). The driver eventually showed up and very helpfully offered to put my bags in the boot, which he then forgot to close when we departed. Luckily another driver managed to attract his attention to this before we went too far and all my beer had spilled out into the road…
191 Reykjavik-Edinburgh (Easyjet); By the end of the week, the leak in my shoe had developed into an almost complete split of the sole from the rest of my shoe. And although my return flight wasn’t until evening I had to check out of the apartment by 11am. This led to a long final afternoon wandering Reykjavik, tripping over my own feet every ten paces or so with a right boot that now looked like a loose flipper. All I could do was hope the damn thing didn’t split completely, and survived long enough to get me on my flight and back home. At least it wasn’t raining anymore. And at one point I found myself skirting the perimeter of the domestic airport, watching the little Bombardiers arriving from around the country (at least one of which decided to go around in near perfect visibility and no wind; weird?)
After hobbling around the city for the day I arrived back at the apartment complex to collect my bags and meet my hotel pick-up at four. I’d been slightly nervous about booking this; what if it didn’t turn up? He hadn’t even remembered to close the boot last week, what chance that he’d remember he was picking anyone up? But the bus appeared on time, and I was en route to KEF with a considerably heavier checked bag than I had arrived with. This was mainly as I still had six cans of my christmas beer left from a week ago, having since discovered all the delicious varieties of 0.0% Bavaria at the local supermarket and drinking that instead. I would have brought more treats back with me but I was nervous about exceeding the weight of my checked baggage allowance; it turned out I still had about 8kg to spare.
Arriving at KEF, I was surprised to find the bag drop wasn’t even open for another 45mins, so I treated myself to a reasonably priced (and fairly tasty) pizza slice from the grocery store while I waited. Having finally dropped my bag and cleared security in just a matter of minutes, I found myself in the enviable position of having time, money and luggage space to enjoy myself at the airport shopping. I took advantage of the duty-free store’s offer of any four cans of beer for 1000kr, as well as the six-for-the-price-of-five deal on miniatures. Having done all this, I then treated myself further to the ultimate extravagance at KEF, a beer at the airport bar. I would have had two but the Polish barmaid (about the 1000th I’d met this week in Reykjavik) politely informed me they were closing in five minutes.
The flight home was routine again, with the same bogus nut allergy announcement. But on arrival back at EDI, I was once again worried about making a mess of using the e-gates and having to go to a desk and get my passport checked by one of my Border Force colleagues. Luckily I got through with no issues, and I was delighted to find my massively underweight checked bag was already waiting for me on the carousel, in a rare show of efficiency by EDI.
188 Edinburgh-Nîmes (Ryanair); After so many early morning, weekend flights this year, it was a pleasure to be heading to the airport late on a Wednesday afternoon for a 5.05pm departure. As expected, the terminal was relatively quiet, (about as quiet as Edinburgh gets just now anyway). Despite all the free time and the rare availability of pub seats I was content to just sit in a quiet corner and wait patiently to find out which gate I would be boarding from. This wait was a little longer than I would have liked, with it finally being announced five minutes before the gate supposedly closed. This made it even more surprising that once boarded, we stood outside for around twenty minutes, waiting to get onto the aircraft. I now realise that paying extra for priority boarding usually means a unique opportunity to stand in the cold longer than any other passengers. Once we were finally allowed onto the aircraft, the cabin was only 20-25% occupied. This meant boarding was completed almost as soon as I had sat down, as well as the holy grail of an empty row beside me, (as expected when flying on a Wednesday afternoon). Hopefully the fact that there were only thirty or so people on board would help make up some of the growing delay en route.
The two hour flight was pleasant enough, and I treated myself to one of the green curry’s, (which is probably about as good an onboard meal as I’ve had on a budget carrier). The only concern was the delay of around half an hour. Knowing what a small airport FNI was, I was aware that there was only one dedicated bus service that met each of the dozen or so flights that arrived each week; would it wait if the flight was delayed? Of course it did, but there was no way of knowing that en route. As it turned out, the flight arrived just before the bus’ scheduled departure time, and thanks to the size of the terminal building I was deplaned, through the tiny border post and out of the terminal five minutes before it was due to leave.
189 Nîmes-Edinburgh (Ryanair); another late afternoon departure, which ended up being an early evening one. As the scheduled bus pulled into FNI, some of the passengers noted a Ryanair aircraft landing, which set off a mild panicked scramble to get off the bus, through security and onto the aircraft. For those of us using Flight Radar, this aircraft was obviously the scheduled arrival from Charleroi, not Edinburgh. In fact, our aircraft was currently over Livingston, having just taken off in the last few minutes. With a flight time of just over two hours, there was clearly going to be quite a delay. Assuming that the options for food, drink and entertainment after security at such a small airport would be very limited, as well as the fact that security itself was hardly going to be a lengthy trial with only one flight leaving, I decided to linger landside for a while. The day was warm and sunny, and the tiny terminal building did at least have one small shop, where I purchased a glass of beer and sat out in the fresh air, waiting until the aircraft was at least in French airspace before even thinking about moving. When I finally did decide to go through security, the process of the searches and crossing the border took less than a minute combined. The vast majority of my fellow pax had already done so and I was probably the last to pass through.
As predicted, the facilities once airside were extremely basic. Two large waiting rooms with hard wooden benches, a few vending machines and a toilet. And of course a screaming child. There also seemed to be a distinct lack of information being communicated, as those pax without Flight Radar sat anxiously watching the departure time come and go on the screens at the desk, with no aircraft in sight. Finally an announcement was made that the flight was delayed, and would leave approximately an hour behind schedule. Looking at where the aircraft currently was on the map I thought that was optimistic, and so it turned out, with it finally arriving over an hour late.
Still, once we were boarded it was apparent that this would be another quiet flight. And with the recent decline in air travel since Covid, flying regularly on these half-empty aircraft has allowed me to develop a new pet hate: people who ignore weight and balance warnings and wander around the aircraft at will. So I was understandably annoyed when a middle-aged woman abruptly plonked herself at the end of my empty row just before take-off, especially given her apparent weight. Completely ignorant to the safety of all onboard and interested only in her own comfort, I treated her to my most disdainful look of disgust. This successfully frightened her into sitting somewhere else after takeoff, although we could well have been dead by then, (though I like to think my corpse would still have been casting hers a filthy look).
The flight was routine and pleasant enough though, and we even managed to make up a little time en route. And despite being a Monday evening, EDI was fairly quiet on arrival, so much so that there was no queue to speak of at the border. I did have a slightly anxious moment when passing through the e-gates, as this was the first time I had crossed the border since working for the UK Border Force at LHR. What if I got rejected, how embarrassing would it be to have to go and get my passport manually scanned by one of my colleagues. All was well though.
Gill 9A 