Get up, stand up

by Rick Johansen

They, whoever they are, say that you learn something every day. That’s definitely true, although when you get to my age there’s a tendency to immediately forget whatever it is I have learned the day before. Yesterday, at the end of our flight to Canada, I learned that what I thought was a British low cost airline phenomena – that thing when once the plane has come to a standstill everyone immediately stands up and crowds the aisles – isn’t just British. It happened yesterday, at the end of a seven and a half hour flight from London to Toronto, the better part of 300 people promptly stood up. And they stayed ‘stood up’ until the door opened and people rushed off the plane as soon as possible only to once again meet up with the people they left behind at luggage reclaim. So, I learned yesterday that a moron is a moron is a moron, all over the world. It takes one to know one, I suppose.

Flight AC855 from London Heathrow to Toronto was on board an Airbus A330, my first long haul flight since 2011 and it was my best long haul experience to date. Given that my long haul flights have only ever been to Canada, and prior to yesterday there had only been eight of them – meaning there and back – I have little to compare it with. But even in Cattle Class, I had plenty of leg space, the in-flight entertainment (more about this in a moment) was very good, the food good and only the cabin staff by their near permanent absence and the mute captain and first officer – not a single word from pushback to landing – put a slight dampener on things.

With over seven hours to kill, I went for the familiar. All five episodes of the mini series Chernobyl, which I have already seen, I think, at least five times. It was brilliant, although I did nod off for sections of the second episode, meaning I had to watch much of it over again, but that was a mere blip.

I had forgotten how uneventful long haul travel can be. There were minor bumps along the way, far greater as we descended into stormy Toronto, but I am old and almost wise enough to understand that turbulence won’t bring a plane down. It’s no different from being a ship on the ocean.

I didn’t realise that although we were flying on to Ottawa, Toronto would represent the big immigration arrival into Canada, something that was grim and time-consuming 12 years ago, but very simple today. It was so simple that we didn’t realise it was the big immigration arrival until we realised that there was no immigration checking at all in Ottawa, no passport, no nothing, far easier and far quicker than the post Brexit fiasco we now endure in EU countries. And not a single passport stamp all day long. In fact, we arrived in Ottawa by walking through the departure lounge to baggage reclaim.

Then, a quick hop to Ottawa on a very tatty 32 year old Airbus A320, which I swear had duck tape on the scruffiest wings I have ever seen on a plane.

Air Canada verdict? Nothing special. The flights were both early, which is good, but the booking system and the way they kept changing flights and seats in the months before the flights wasn’t great.

Heathrow? Luggage drop and security an absolute doddle. Getting from anywhere to anywhere else – at least you will get your steps in. People who moan when they have to walk from the plane to the main terminal at Bristol will, if they ever fly from Heathrow, find it a great deal harder in terms of physical effort.

It was chucking it down when we got here. Of course it was. We’re British. It’s part of the deal. And I learned that many, many years ago.

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