Quick Boarding gates … nice…

I came across a very interesting concept at Frankfurt, Munich and Hannover airports – a Quick Boarding gate for Lufthansa flights. It looks like any other gate, with a small difference.

The gate staff does not take your boarding card. Instead, one has to hold the boarding card with the face down on a scanner, and on hearing a beep, walk through. The whole process is very quick, and saves time for the passengers as well as the staff.

A small twist that I observed – one passenger had a printed copy of an online check-in, and his seat number had changed since then – when he scanned the boarding he was carrying with him, the machine printed out another boarding card with the changed seat – all this in a few seconds.

I read that Continental Airlines has launched a self-boarding trial at Houston Airport, while Seoul’s Incheon International Airport, one hears, also has this in operation.

Impressive.

Pricking the balloon

 

The flight was full and it took quite a while for the cabin crew to get the passengers sorted out – no mean feat considering that several had oversize cabin baggage, refused to let other travelers pass by, and some even wanted to have their seats changed.

One particular passenger, seated three rows ahead of me across the aisle, caught my attention. There was a deliberate swagger in his gait as he walked in, he grumbled about the co-travelers who blocked his way, and loudly demanded that the cabin crew bring him some water.

I heard him announce loudly to the person seated beside him that he was a senior manager with a large multinational and was traveling economy only because someone in the travel desk had goofed.

The loud-voiced diatribe went on well past take-off, and I could sense that other passengers were getting a bit sick of it. No one said anything though.

Twenty minutes prior to landing when the aircraft had begun its descent and the seatbelt sign was on, the inevitable happened. A member of the crew, laden with used trays, walked past this person and accidentally dropped a partially full glass of juice onto his lap.

The guy leapt out of his seat like a scalded cat, berated the hapless air hostess for messing up his trousers, and bolted for the lavatory. It didn’t end there. When the purser, who observed the man disappear into the loo, waited outside and enquired about what happened when he finally emerged, the gent let fly yet again about the carelessness of the crew, the apparent lack of service, and more.

The purser, perhaps a veteran of many such episodes, put on a patently fake smile, placed a friendly but firm hand on the guy’s shoulder, spoke a few words of apology, directed him back to his seat, and told him to stay put.

Did the story end there? No, not quite.

Our flight arrived late, and this guy missed his connection. The next flight was eighteen hours later and he would have to cool his heels in the airport.

I think most observers rejoiced at this. And the traveler beside him who had endured patiently for close on two hours told him, “My friend, make as much noise as you want, but no one here cares who you are. Enjoy your walk around the airport for the next few hours, it will do you some good.”

The guy exited the aircraft with the look of a deflated balloon, and those who had watched his pantomime couldn’t hide the grin on their faces.

It takes all types, I suppose.

 

Vacuum between the ears

It is strange how the colour of one’s skin evokes irrational and, sometimes, idiotic responses. Brings out the worst in some people.

It was an early morning flight out of Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris, and the kids were sleepy. It had been a hectic, but enjoyable, four days at Euro Disney, and all one could now think of was settling into the aircraft seat and have a long nap on the eight-hour flight back.

We were booked on business class, and as I wheeled the luggage trolley towards the check-in counter, a stern looking member of the Air France staff jerked her thumb dismissively towards another counter and rudely said “Economy is that side.”

“Isn’t this the Business Class counter?” I asked.

“Yes, go to the Economy counter”, she replied, with a superior manner and a voice that dripped with irritation.

I could feel the anger welling inside me but chose to keep my composure. “Would you mind having a look at my ticket?” I asked in as measured a tone as possible.

It evoked no response since the lady had turned away and was pretending to be busy with something important.

“This does it,” I thought to myself, “these rude guys are going to get an earful from me.”

A supervisor happened to observe the exchange and came forward to ask what the matter was. I told him that I was here to check-in and showed him the tickets. To his credit, he completed the formalities. There was, however, no apology, no friendliness.

As we left the counter to head for the departure area, I told him that he and his colleague were the most impolite airline staff I had ever encountered in all my travels, and that they were an utter disgrace not only to their airline but also to the entire industry. I also told him that they were not doing anyone any favours since it was the paying passenger, irrespective of class of travel, that ultimately provided these staff with a livelihood.

He didn’t like my comment, but I couldn’t care less.

It is evident that some people have vacuum between the ears.

To the airline’s credit, the service on board was better.

 

Flying fish …

While on a business trip to Iceland to inspect fish that the company I worked for had ordered, I flew on a scheduled Flugleiðir commercial flight to a small town in the north of the country.

The fish producer whom I met spoke very little English, while I spoke no Icelandic except for “Góðan daginn” (good morning), “Blessaður” (hello), “Takk fyrir” (thank you very much), “Já” (yes), “Nei” (no), and “Bless” (goodbye).

Our conversation turned to aviation in that part of the world, and when he learnt that I was an enthusiast, he asked me if I would like to see the countryside from his small aircraft. So casual, just like going on a drive in a car, perhaps? I readily agreed, and we drove to the airstrip where his Cessna two-seater was parked.

After a brief chat with Air Traffic Control, he started the engine, headed for the runway and took off, just as if one was driving a car out of a garage.

Flying at 5,000 feet above the lovely countryside, he offered to show me his summer cottage that nestled in the nearby mountains (ATC came on the radio to warn him that he was flying too close to the mountains).

Heading back, he then said that he would show me his factory from the air, which seemed like a reasonable enough offer.

Imagine my horror, however, when he dipped the nose of the aircraft and dove down to a height of about 1,000 feet just above his fish processing factory, pulled out of the dive and climbed steeply? 

I love flying, and have flown in small aircraft before, but my heart was in my mouth then. As for the pilot, he seemed to be enjoying watching my discomfiture.

His employees were probably used to this kind of stunt – the boss dropping in to have a look, as it were.

There was silence for the next ten minutes as he made his final approach to the runway, landed, and taxied to a stop.

There didn’t seem to be much to say except “Takk fyrir” and “Bless”, and I headed gratefully towards the airport building to catch my flight back to Reykjavik.

I had a window seat, but, for the next forty five minutes, did not look out.

 

A salute to the pioneers !!!

I wrote a post in April 2009 about Indian aviation titled “Flying in those days” and referred to a small airline called Jamair.

http://hurryup1.wordpress.com/2009/04/16/flying-in-those-days/

My first ever flight was in a Jamair DC3.

Imagine my surprise when I received an email through this blog from Katherine Quin, the daughter of one of Jamair’s founders. She wrote :

“Hello! Was very amused to read about the Jamair DC3 story as Eddie Quin was my dad and the co-founder of Jamair with J.B Muff  in Calcutta. They both flew the hump with C.N.A.C. Eddie died in Calcutta in 1968 and J.B. in 1977. Both great pioneers of aviation history and both great characters!”

Thank you, Katherine. We need to salute these intrepid pioneers.

 

Like a breeze …

I have been flying into India’s international airports for almost a quarter of a century, and, for years, it used to be frustrating, after a long flight, to have to stand in the interminable queues at passport control.

One had to stand patiently as a sleepy official examined your passport from all angles and then laboriously typed in your details on an archaic computer, all the time searching for the appropriate key to press.

Times have changed, and the past few years have been a pleasure. Passport control in Mumbai airport, for instance, is a breeze, and whatever maybe the time of day or the number of wide-bodied aircraft that have deposited their passengers by the hundreds, the line moves swiftly, and one is through in a jiffy. The staff is courteous and has a smile on their faces, there isn’t too much conversation, and the wait at the counter is generally under a minute. This beats the time it takes in most of the major airports of the world.

Whatever else has, or has not, happened in India, this is one major plus, and one has to give full marks to the people who run this operation and have made it work.

Pity, though, that all this good work is ruined by a surly “havaldar” who sits on a stool just after you exit passport control, and who insists on leafing through every page of your passport searching for the entry stamp. Defies logic. After all, one wouldn’t have reached this point had the passport not been stamped, so what’s the purpose of having this additional check?

I have never figured that one out.

 

Paramount – a nice way to travel

As a relatively infrequent visitor to the country, I have not had an opportunity to travel on board, and experience, some of the newer domestic Indian carriers. Some of them are budget outfits, but, from what I have heard, seem to have built up a good reputation for punctuality and service. About time, too, considering the exasperating trips I have done in the past on Indian Airlines.

Wanting to travel from Chennai to Coimbatore for a day, with some exacting time factors to deal with, the only choice that emerged from an online search was Paramount Airways, a carrier that I had never heard about. The fare seemed reasonable enough, especially considering that Paramount touted itself as an all-business-class airline.

The online booking procedure through their website was straightforward, the e-ticket was delivered through email rapidly, and I was all set to go.

Having arrived far too early at Chennai airport for my flight, I was mentally prepared for a long wait, but was pleasantly surprised to find that the check-in counter was manned. The smiling check-in staffer was efficient, an assistant helped screen my suitcase, and the procedure took no more than four minutes – that was refreshing.

My spirits sank when the scheduled departure time arrived and there was no sign of the aircraft on the tarmac. It was then that I discovered that the time shown on the website was off by 25 minutes. They could have mailed me about the change, I thought, especially if it was the business class they claimed.

On board the Embraer 170 aircraft, which was clean, and smelt nice, I was disappointed to find that the seats were not exactly business class in terms of dimensions – they were leather, though.

The on-board service came as a surprise. Starting with a choice of fresh tender coconut water (have not seen that being served by any carrier, leave alone a domestic one) or lime juice, to the moist packaged towelette and candy, it was apparent that they meant business.

It was a short flight lasting 50 minutes, but the cabin crew  found time to efficiently and swiftly serve a snack box that comprised of a sandwich, a slice of fruit cake, a fruit juice, and a cup of coffee, if you so wished. There was an announcement through the PA system that said that the airline apologized for not being able to serve a more substantial, hot meal. Inconsequential, but a nice touch.

I was particularly impressed with how the cabin crew handled the passenger next to me. He mentioned to the stewardess that the coffee was not hot enough, and she offered a replacement. When none was forthcoming, I assumed that nothing more would be said/heard about this. Consequently, I was pleasantly surprised when the stewardess showed up, immediately after landing, with a cup of piping hot coffee, offered it to my co-passenger, and told him that there was sufficient time for him to drink it before the aircraft came to a halt.

The inflight magazine was reasonably well done, and passengers were encouraged to carry away a copy, should they wish to.

Paramount offers an inflight boutique though a tie-up with a marketing company, where passengers can purchase goods, at a discount, on arrival at a specially erected stand in the arrivals area. I thought the advertised prices were rather high, and did not see anyone on this particular flight purchase anything, but it was an interesting add-on.  

It was certainly an good experience flying Paramount, and the return leg the following day was similar. I discount the business class claim, but would give the carrier credit for customer service.

Paramount’s website could do with improvement. It is sketchy on detail, and would have done well if it had described why a prospective traveller should choose to fly onboard one of their aircraft. Word of mouth is great, but being more overt is no bad thing.

No disrespect intended to Indian Airlines that has flown me on hundreds of flights in the past, but when I saw an A320 belonging to the national carrier taxi past as I emerged, I was glad I chose an alternative for this trip.

 

Flying in those days …

When we think about commercial aviation in India, our mind immediately turns to the large carriers such as Air India, Indian, Jet Airways and Kingfisher, as well as the budget carriers such as Spice Jet, JetLite, IndiGo, Paramount, etc. And, if we cast our minds back a few years, we will, perhaps, remember some other carriers that have now folded up such as East West Airlines, NEPC Airlines, Archana Airways, Damania Airways, ModiLuft and Vayudoot.

 

When commercial aviation began in India many decades ago, after the end of the Second World War, there were many small operators, some of them regional, such as Deccan Airways, Bharat Airways, Air India, Himalayan Aviation, Kalinga Airlines, Indian National Airways, Air Services India, and Air Services of India. These were merged, nationalized, and brought under the fold of what became known as Indian Airlines Corporation. Simultaneously, Air India was set up to serve travel overseas.

 

What is little known is that some of the small “airlines” continued to operate non-scheduled services, carrying, in some cases, passengers to remote areas, and in others, carried cargo. Some of them even flew to overseas destinations such as the Gulf.

 

The non-scheduled operators included Jamair, Pushpaka Aviation, Jagson Airlines, MDLR Airlines, etc. Some small operators such as Jagson Airlines continue to fly even today, though, sadly, most have long since disappeared.

 

As a child, I lived about two kilometres from Safdarjung Airport in New Delhi. This used to be the city’s civil airport several decades ago till the new, larger Palam airport was built. It was later used primarily by the Delhi Flying Club and a few private aircraft owners.

 

Each morning, those days, I used to wake up to the loud sound of a DC-3 Dakota aircraft taking off – the deep-throated roar of the two engines at full throttle was distinctive. I am not sure, but I think it was used as a charter. The aircraft belonged to Jamair.

 

 

 

Jamair was formed in 1946 by James B Muff and Eddie Quinn backed by Maharajah Jam Sahib Nawanagar of Jamnagar. Moving to Calcutta in 1948, Jamair operated air supply missions in the North East Frontier and Assam, as well as a Calcutta-Bombay scheduled service. It ceased operations in 1977.

 

My first ever flight was a joy ride on a Jamair DC-3 (VT-CZC) on 2^nd October 1969. The flights were offered to commemorate Mahatma Gandhi’s 100^th birth anniversary. The 15-minute “ride” cost 15 Rupees, and involved a take-off from Safdarjung Airport, a relatively low level (7,000 feet, perhaps) swing over parts of the city and over the river Yamuna, and back for a bumpy landing.

 

On 5^th December 1970, I woke up, as usual, to the roar of the Dakota taking-off, and dozed off for a few minutes. About half an hour later, word came from some neighbours that an aircraft had crashed near INA Market. I grabbed my bicycle, pedalled furiously towards the market, and on getting there, was horrified to see the DC-3 lying on the ground, it’s front end smashed. It was VT-CZC, the same aircraft in which I had my first flight. I was to hear later that the aircraft lost power as it took off, the cause being fuel starvation to one of the engines. The brave pilot had manoeuvred the stricken craft and brought it down in a small patch of land right beside the crowded market. There were four casualties, the pilots included.

 

 

 

It was a sad moment, and the sight of the broken Dakota lying on the field plays in my mind to this day.

 

We take commercial flying for granted today. In the process, though, we forget those intrepid pioneers who brought aviation to the country.

The incredible 777

After consuming three meals, two sandwiches and four glasses of orange juice, I landed in New York – nothing remarkable about it except that it had been a non-stop fourteen-hour flight.

 

What’s more, this aircraft had just two engines.

 

This was in the year 2000, and the aircraft was a Boeing 777.

 

 

The original 777-200 first entered commercial service in 1995, followed by the longer range 777-200LR and 777-300LR versions.

 

The 777^th delivery of this amazing aircraft was made a few days ago to Air France. And there are another 325 on order as of the moment.

 

Compare this with it’s older brother, the Boeing 747, that was introduced in 1970 – as of February 2009, 1,412 aircraft have been built, with 112 more in various configurations on order.

 

The Boeing 777 holds the record of longest distance flown by an unrefueled commercial airplane. In November 2005, a 777-200LR flew a non-stop distance of 11,664 nautical miles (21,601 km), traveling eastbound from Hong Kong to London (Heathrow). The flight lasted 22 hours and 42 minutes.

 

Some interesting facts about this great aircraft include :

 

1. Digital Fly-by-wire flight controls (Airbus has this, too)
2. First commercial aircraft to use fiber-optic avionics network
3. Composite material in the aircraft’s construction – 9% of its original structural weight.
4. The largest landing gear and the biggest tyres ever used in a commercial jetliner.
5. The GE90-115B turbofans used on the 777-300ER are the world’s most powerful jet engines, with up to 115,300 lbf (513 kN) thrust
6. The largest diameter turbofan engines of any aircraft.
7. The largest windows in any current commercial airliner

Long-haul flights require two sets of flight crew, and Boeing introduced overhead crew rests as an option on the aircraft, featuring seats and bunk beds.

 

Why am I going into all these statistics and details?

 

Because, this is a truly remarkable aircraft.

 

Whenever I travel on-board a 747, I always wonder when the lumbering hulk will get off the ground. It’s a really long take-off roll.

 

On the 777, however, you do not feel that at all, and you are airborne very quickly – I understand it accelerates to 60 mph in 6 seconds!!!

 

And, the cabin comfort is surprisingly good. It’s huge, yes, but there is a feeling of space, and you do not feel that you are in a packed tube, something that happens in some other wide-bodied jets.

 

It’s also incredibly quiet on the inside.

 

I have flown on other wide-body aircraft – the Airbus family (A300, A330, A340), the McDonnell Douglas MD-11, the Lockheed L-1011 Tristar, etc. The Boeing 777, however, is the most comfortable of the lot, by far.

 

It’s a truly amazing piece of work.

Flying coffins

“Hot and high, hot and high” were the words that screamed through my mind as the Okada Air Boeing 727 made its final approach to Lagos airport.

 

(In aviation parlance, “hot” means that the aircraft is making a landing approach that is too fast, and “high” refers to it being too high above the glide path. Since the only way to increase the rate of descent is to increase speed, and the plane is already too fast, it is almost certain that there will be a botched landing approach.)

 

Seated by the window, I could see that we were in trouble.

 

The aircraft bounced up and down a few times, as the pilot slammed it down hard on the deck and stood on his brakes. I could hear the engines howl as furious reverse thrust was applied, and the plane ate up precious runway before finally coming to a juddering halt.

 

Flying is something I enjoy, but my knees quaked as I staggered off the aircraft in a state of some shock – it was a close shave.

 

African airlines have a terrible safety record – four takeoffs in every million result in an aircraft becoming unusable as a result of an accident, one of the worst in the world (the world average is 1.3). Chronically under-funded, they, often, fly old, ramshackle aircraft, and poor maintenance, absence of proper safety checks, and shortage of spares means that passengers climb on board with a prayer. There are very few exceptions such as South African Airways, Ethiopian and Kenya Airways, but most others are a dicey proposition.

 

It could be that there is inept management, poor training of pilots and ground crew, and corruption. Whatever the reason, it is scary.

 

I once heard a Nigerian query whether it was safer to travel by road on one of the country’s notoriously crime-ridden highways instead of travelling by one of the “flying coffins”.

 

I never flew Okada ever again, and heard some years later that its licence had been revoked and planes grounded. It was one of Africa’s largest private carriers.

Okada aircraft parked at Benin airport