Part Three: BKK - SYD
Since this report is really about Finnair, I really wouldn’t have bothered with this part of my trip at all, but it was such a lacklustre “bounce” thanks to Qantas that it does bear mentioning, particularly as it looks as though if you take AY from HEL to SYD you will be travelling with Qantas from somewhere in Asia.
Lovely nap, beautiful shower and a good meal at the Novotel, and I head back to the airport. It’s great to have the Novotel right at the airport for a layover of several hours.
The smiling and courteous (you get that a lot in Thailand) agent tells me he has
a “better” seat for me than the one I selected, and prints out 2J for me. It’s still an aisle seat, but not in the middle section – I explain that to me it’s not a better seat, I need to be in the middle as I don’t want anyone climbing over me to go to the loo. His smile disappears for a moment, he explains that the flight is full and there are no vacant middle section seats – I suspect I’ve been moved to accommodate a couple or a “family” who hadn’t bothered to secure seats together earlier, so I insist. He finally relents and gives me 2F back, and I’m on my way to the lounge. Or so I think, as I’m only a few steps away when another agent calls me back and explains that the seat has gone tech and has no recline. If the first agent had explained this it would have been different, but I suspect that he may have been junior and didn’t want to refuse a customer request. So they move me back to 2J, I accept my fate and move on. Until again, I’m called back, they have spoken to an engineer on the plane and the seat is back in order, so I’m back in 2F
Through security and I find the Qantas lounge. It’s a dump – happily a dump with very clean toilets, but a dump nonetheless. I fight my way through the hordes of Aussie bogans and British chavs marvelling at the site of free booze just sitting there on the shelves, make myself a bloody Mary and find a table next to a family of Aussie bogans who were bright pink from too much time in the Thai sun and were astonished to find that the free internet (being simultaneously used by hundreds of people) was painfully slow.
Off to the gate where a nice smiley security guy goes is going through everyone’s carry on (making sure we didn’t steal any vodka from the lounge I guess), and down I go to wait at the gate. The flight is clearly full, I find a seat next to some young Aussie guys, one of whom is clearly the
Bogan Crown Prince, clad in a singlet, no shoes and a pair of sheer white football shorts that show off his blue striped underwear to great advantage. I decide to go and stand nearby as I’m finding the constant, um, “rearranging” of his personal bits to be disconcerting. I suspect that one of his new Thai girlfriends (or perhaps “girl” friends) had left him with some living souvenirs of his holiday. Special needs boarding is announced, and Prince Bogan decides he’s special enough to board with the families (ie eight adults who need to board first because they are travelling with a 17 year old “child). I’m hoping that they’ll send him back to wait his turn, but they let him pass.
Business class boarding is called, so off I go. A very warm welcome from a flight attendant in the J cabin and I think, ah, this is going to be nice. I find my seat, confirm immediately that the recline is in fact working, and all seems well. The cabin is crowded, completely full, and the aircraft is tired, a bit shabby, and really looking its age.
Just like the cabin crew.
I note that the crew are of the mature variety. As I said in an earlier part of this report, I like mature cabin crews, but there was something about this lot that made me think less of friendly, cuddly grandparents and more of the ladies who used to rule my school tuckshop with an iron fist, barking at everyone to keep in line and wait their turn. Service was, to begin with, efficient but not too smiley. One of the grannies came around offering pyjamas, she recited the various sizes “small, medium large, extra large”, I smile and ask if she has “fat” for me. No, she just has s, m/l or xl. Ok, so she’s heard my joke a million times before, but at least she could be a bit gracious. Out of spite she gives me medium when I clearly need something bigger.
Meal time comes. Qantas offer a thing called Q-Eats and will try to force you to pre-order your meal when you book your flight on their site. You don’t actually have to pre-order, but they site is designed in such a way that you may think you do should you click on the meal section. I’d ordered a soup and a vegetarian ravioli dish of some description, I’m not vegetarian but there was only one option that appealed to me.
My meal tray is placed in front of me with a flourish, I’m given the standard salad (ie four lettuce leaves and a miniature vinegar thing), a bread roll and a glass of wine while I wait for my soup. And wait. And wait. Finally after I’ve realised that others had been given their soup and their bowls were being cleared away, I managed to wave down one of the FAs and ask for my soup. She sounds surprised that I hadn’t received it, somehow makes it sound as though this is my fault (ok, this is a common feature of service Australian style so I don’t take offense here) and brings me some soup. She does have the grace at this point to apologise, and I’m grateful that there was still some left.
Next it’s time for the main course. This time I don’t have long to wait: a different FA approaches me from behind, throws a plate down on my tray and disappears to the back of the cabin. He’s well and truly vanished before I had the chance to tell him it was the wrong dish. He’d brought me a repulsive fatty chicken leg thing that was festering on a bed of rice that had a peculiar smoky taste and smell. At this stage I surrender, Qantas had won, I taste a bit of chicken fat (I couldn’t locate any actual meat), push the mess around the plate a bit and leave it.
The FA who had brought me my soup returns to clear up, she is concerned and asks me what was wrong with it. I explain how their meal system has completely failed for me, and the fact that this thing in front of me is inedible, she asks if I would like something else but I tell her it’s pretty much made me lose the desire to eat. She offers to bring me a dessert “to help make up for things”. A nice gesture which I accept, ignoring the fact that dessert was on the menu and I should have been given one anyway. I do mention that I’d basically be happy if the wine was kept up until I went to sleep, she smiled and to her credit my glass was topped up constantly.
Many of my cabin-mates were offered a
“mattress”, a sort of thick cover that slips over the seat and makes it considerably more comfortable for sleeping. When I realised that I was not going to be offered, I requested one, and my request was met with a sigh and begrudgingly the mattress was put on my seat.
I entertain by myself watching
my fellow pax roam the cabin in their pyjamas. Only one person, a young woman who was seated next to me, managed to pull the look off with some style. She was also “that” passenger, the one who kept one of the loos occupied for 45 minutes not long before we landed. I put my pyjama shirt on, which was nice and comfy, but having seen the others sporting the entire suit there was no way I was changing completely.
A couple of hours sleep and we are woken for an alleged breakfast. This consisted of a choice between a tepid ricotta-and-spinach-thing, or yoghurt. Not both, it was either one or the other. When I say tepid I'm only referring to the edges; the centre remained untainted by heat. My side of the plane was offered orange juice, but I noted that there were three different types of juice adorning the trolley on the other aisle. The FA didn’t bother to ask what might have been wrong with my uneaten breakfast, somehow I think she knew. (Question: can anyone with a bit of knowledge about food tell me, is this safe to eat? It should have been served hot, I’m wondering about the safety of a badly heated food item like this).
Qantas don’t yet allow the use of iPads etc gate to gate, so we were told to turn these off a long time during descent. Qantas do have decent IFE so this wasn’t too much of a hardship, but I would like to be able to use my iPad right to the end.
The flight landed on time, as I left the aircraft I smiled and said goodbye to the FA who had originaly given me the pyjamas; she looked at me as though I was mad. No farewell, no smile, just this look of disdain. A nice end to my flight.
On my way out I grab a twinpack of vodka (there’s little choice but to buy something at SYD’s duty free), get a ticket from a kiosk for
SmartGate and head to the automatic gate. Of course, I fail the test here and am sent off to an immigration agent – this is quite a good system, they have a dedicated area for people who have to do this tiny walk of shame, and there is no waiting. This is good as the lines are horrendous. I had noticed that they have increased the number of passport holders who can use SmartGate here, from memory it was NZ, UK, USA as well as Australian. Maybe some others, I’m not sure.
I collect my bags and I’m in the taxi line within about 20 minutes of arriving. Actually I’m only in
the line to join the taxi queue as it’s around 7am which is peak time at SYD. I finally reach the head of the line, place my bags in the cab and I’m off home.
As the cab speeds off, I spot my bright yellow duty free bag full of vodka still sitting in the trolley on the footpath. Sob! And to top things off, as the driver removes my suitcase from his taxi the handle snaps off, so I’ll need a new bag before my next trip.
My anger with Qantas has faded in the two weeks since this flight. They were uninterested, inefficient and disappointing. My day flight to Bangkok was good, everything went well, the Cabin Manager (or whatever the title is) greeted me by name and acknowledged me as a frequent flyer at both the beginning and end of the flight even though I had no status. That aircraft, the A333, is good for a day flight, but it just didn’t work for me for a night flight. I feel sure that the FA who brought me my meal knew it was the wrong one and just ran away so that he wouldn’t have to deal with me.
Qantas promptly credited my frequent flyer account with the points and status credits for the AY parts of my flight, but deny that I was ever on their own aircraft either way between Sydney and Bangkok so I’m going to have to fight to get my credits. The email I sent to Qantas expressing my disappointment with the complete breakdown of their Q-Eats system remains unacknowledged two weeks later - I would have been happy with just a generic apology, some points would be nice but I don’t expect them, just a “sorry you’re disappointed now go away and leave us alone” email would do. From reading the Qantas forum here it’s clear that I’m not the first to experience a complete failure of Q-Eats.
I’m now a big fan of Finnair, both their short haul and long haul services were great. I would happily fly them again given a fair price, but I would think hard before I booked a ticket all the way through from Sydney if a Qantas A333 was involved, particularly on a leisure route such as to/from BKK.