Rabid: Fear of flying budget

Got a call from a mate the other day inviting me to his wedding. He said he was getting married at Mosman, and then carried on about it like we didn’t know where it was, and asked was it alright to go that far for a wedding. Sheesh! OK, so we don’t get out that much but Mosman is right next to Neutral Bay last time we checked. Maybe he was worried we couldn’t afford the cross-city-under-city-over-under-harbour tolls. Cheap we might be, but broke we ain’t. Yet.

Then the wedding invitation arrived in the post and the first thing we spotted was he’d tried to save money using some cheap printing house and for his trouble they spelled Mosman, “Mossman”. Hah! A quick call to spread the jeer and my old mate says it is spelled right and it’s just up the road – from Cairns. Right then, better get online and get some tickets to – Cairns?

It transpires that the only way to get there from here without committing a felony to fund the adventure is to travel with a “budget carrier”. That’s a politically correct term for so-cheap-you-almost-have-to-pedal-the-thing-yourself. However, once on board the plane is big and wide just the way Rabid likes it, and the seats all seem to be leather, or at least they are an expensive imitation.

Apart from the look of the plane, the rest of the “service” appears designed to remind you that real service is available from the big sister airline for the appropriate fee. $3 for a cup of coffee at the local café is about par these days, but $3 for a cup of hot water and a ration of Nescafe seems a tad exorbitant. Even flea-pit hotels provide all the free tea and coffee you can swill down at no extra charge. The reason you go looking for in-flight refreshments is to numb the boredom of the three-hour flight.

This cheapskate airline doesn’t even run TV screens. Instead they offer to rent you a portable wireless video player and then sell you some headphones so you can listen as well as watch. Strange how they give you stern warnings not to use any of your own electronics but their own toys apparently don’t interfere with navigation. Of course the stewards were less than impressed with Rabid’s entrepreneurial flair, renting just one viewer and charging the neighbouring seats $5 each to watch, while we provided the out-loud
running commentary.

After surviving the flight and wandering onto the tarmac only to realise we’d left something in the overhead compartment, we attempted to retrace our steps. This resulted in a crash tackle from a burly bloke who said it was a breach of security to re-enter the plane. We did ask how we could possibly have acquired anything sinister during the five steps between the bottom of the stairs and the spear-tackle incident, but it didn’t help.

No, we had to wait in the terminal while the security detachment retrieved the forgotten object on our behalf. And wait. It turns out that Mr Security is also Mr Baggage Truck Driver, Mr Refreshment Replacer, Mr Vacuum Cleaner and Mr Wave Orange Lollipops at Departing Planes. One hour later he returned, having effected a Superman-style quick-change back into the security uniform, and tossed our forgotten item at our feet.

Off we went to collect the rental car and as soon as we arrived the operator saw the tag from our “budget airline” and said “what’s your horror story – everyone with one of those tags has one!” We started to apologise for being late but he stopped us and said it was the first time the plane had arrived on time all week. Oh well, you pays your money and you makes your choice.

Mossman was nice by the way, but the return flight proved the rental car man’s theory correct. We touched down two hours late.

Gotta go! Luggage to collect!

budget fear flying of rabid security