Thu, 31 Mar 2011 8:54a.m.
I've been spending quite a bit of time at the airport recently. (Getting on and off planes, not just hanging about at the airport. That would be weird.) The highlight of my travels so far has been an embarrassing incident at Auckland airport where a portly gentleman sat down heavily on the bench next to me, the bench wobbled, and I shot up out of my seat in panic looking for the nearest doorway.
One of my favourite things about flying is how when you book online, they let you choose your seat - I know it sounds like a small thing, but I like having the row to myself* and almost burst with outrage if I am denied a window seat.
I'm going to suggest that they add a second level to online check-in by allowing you to choose whether or not you sit next to someone talkative, because while some people enjoy yammering on about local body politics at 34,000 ft other people would prefer to be left alone to enjoy their mineral water and vege crisps in peace. It's best for everyone that these people don't end up sitting next to each other because I swear, if you don't stop ranting about water rates by the time the seatbelt sign comes on I am going to ram my vege crisps in your eye.
Once that's in place, the service could be improved even further by blocking out "hazard seats," to prevent nasty in-flight surprises:
15A - Hazard! 16A, directly behind you, is occupied by a small child who will spend the entire flight delightedly slamming his tray table against the back of your seat, sometimes while shouting something unintelligible about Thomas the Tank Engine (who would not approve of this behaviour). His mother,** sitting next to him, apparently thinks this is a charming display of childish frivolity and doesn't intervene. Ten minutes in you want to throw him out the window. He's quite small. He would probably fit.
15E - Hazard! 15D is occupied by someone who has a cold. They sneeze fifteen times before you've left the runway. Achoo! Choo! Choo! Choo! This semi-automatic machine gun of germs then coughs, rests the in-flight magazine on their face, falls asleep on your shoulder and snores peacefully through to landing.
16D, 16F - Hazard! 16E is occupied by a woman who is not quite ready to turn her mobile phone off yet. She's going to argue about it with the flight attendant, and then subtly check her messages upon takeoff, convincing you that her deep desire to confirm whether or not the dog has worms will send you plummeting to a fiery death.
17C, 17E - Hazard! 17C is occupied by a man who has an extremely large and unwieldy piece of carry-on baggage. It takes him three minutes to ram it into the overhead locker, and during this time he will manage to thrust his buttocks repeatedly into the personal space bubble of seats 17C and 17E. Five minutes before take-off he will remember that he's forgotten to retrieve something of immense personal in-flight importance - perhaps his personalised Sudoku pencil - and will need to take the bag down again.
18C - Hazard! 18A and B are occupied by a couple subtly attempting to join the Mile High club on a 50 minute flight between Wellington and Christchurch - no matter how hard you try to fall asleep, this is going to be awkward for everyone. Especially when you encounter some unexpected turbulence and their blanket falls off.
Does anyone have Jetstar's email address?
*except for the handsome gentleman who sat next to me on a flight from Auckland to Christchurch last year. (Do you remember? You were going through to Greymouth, we shared the Sunday paper. If you're reading this, 28F, call me.)
**the child's mother, not Thomas the Tank Engine's