We’re sitting in Klub Koru in Auckland, waiting for our Christchurch flight, so I thought I’d ponder the Air New Zild experience from Singapore.
Like everything in Singapore, the airport is slick.
Being Koru, we got access to the SATS premier lounge, which I guess is the poor cousin to the SQ lounge next door.
For those who don’t know, SATS is the ground handler in Singapore, and it’s owned by Singapore Airlines.
There has always been a grey area about Koru recognition around the world. There was a time when it meant nothing outside our own network of lounges. Years ago we were turned away from an SQ lounge in Singapore . Gold, business or fuck off. Sarah loved the SQ business lounge in London back in the day when we flew there. That’s how I know that business is on the list for entry.
It seems a little better now, mostly. The staff at checkin had told us to come to the SATS lounge, but the girl at the desk didn’t recognize the membership. The guy next to her stepped in to tell her that Koru was good.
That was the only hiccup on the ground. First world problems.
Boarding was straightforward. Not the hitech gear in some previous countries, but efficient and clinical.
Once boarding was mostly done, an announcement was made that we were waiting for passengers from a flight from India. Almost immediately, an Indian lady was pushed past us in an aisle chair. Then the drip feed of about a dozen more. I’m guessing they were all off that flight from India. The demographic supported that assumption.
But where had they been? We all know that wheelchair passengers are the last off any flight, so while they were waiting to get off, the rest of these connecting passengers should have had a major headstart to our aircraft. But they arrived after the WCHR. Go figure.
The flight was uneventful, as it should be. Premium Economy is kind of like Economy, but with more legroom. The industry calls that pitch, and they measure it in inches. No clue.
There is so much pitch, that two things happen:
First, the fuckwit sitting in front of you can recline his seat and you’re not bovvered. In economy? Not so much. Somebody will be leaving the aircraft in a body bag.
Second, the food tray cannot fold down from the seat back. It has to be stored in the armrest. Old school business class.
The in-cabin announcements were done by a guy that sounds like Simon Gault. Maybe he needed something to do after Masterchef NZ finished, and you can’t make a living selling crockery at Briscoes.
Anyway there were 2 staff running our cabin. A younger girl, and an old bloke. Probably Simon.
Simon needs to go back to the kitchens. He was the one handing out the trays at mealtime, when they got to our row, but he never offered drinks. Breakfast or dinner. Wine, coffee, blood of a virgin. Nada. The odd random person around us had a coffee cup on their tray, but not us. Luckily the girl was much better at the whole customer service thing.
When we landed, the crew announced that the domestic terminal would be closed. It was 2330, almost midnight. Quelle surprise!
They did not, however, announce the arrivals belt we should look for. Most airlines do now.
No problem, we found it all by ourselves. We both have a PhD in reading FDDS screens.
Now here’s something odd, regarding the arrivals hall layout. When you come downstairs from immigration, you go left if you have nothing to declare, and right if you have something to declare. Not hard. Nothing to see here? The odd thing, is that if you turn right (declare), you appear into the arrivals hall, opposite the baggage belts.
If you turn left (no declare) you go around and under the escalator you just rode down, and walk into the same arrivals hall. Just a longer walk. No pre-clearance, no conversation with an official. What was the point???
And then the PAs began. Oh Lordy!
For both our flight and one from Sydney, they began a long-winded scripted PA. OK so far.
A lot of emphasis about picking up all luggage, as nothing is transferred to domestic flights. Great! Too many morons turn up at Christchurch wondering why their bag, which they dropped off in Bumfuck, Arkansas, isn’t here. The whole ‘First point of entry into a country for Customs clearance’ was completely lost on them.
So that PA is a great idea.
But…
They then proceeded to bleat on about taking your bags over to domestic!!! It’s 30 seconds from midnight, you fucking moron. Stop misleading these sleep-deprived and Jet-lagged muppets. Don’t go to domestic, find a hotel!!
No, it wasn’t a recording. It wasn’t done well enough for that. Somebody was reading it, without the slightest consideration for the time of day. This wasn’t just the Air New Zealand staff. The Qantas arrivals staff did exactly the same thing a minute later. They must have an arrival too. Morons.
My final gripe. The Air New Zealand baggage tracing staff started paging a list of names from our flight. A long list, all Indian. I’m guessing that the luggage from that delayed flight from India didn’t make it on time.
But rather than butcher the pronunciation of more than a dozen foreign names, almost guaranteeing they the people you’re paging won’t recognize their own names, do this…
Do an announcement for those passengers recently arrived from Singapore, who came from the inbound flight XXX from ZZZ, to come to the desk. People will recognize the name of where they came from, before they’ll recognised their own names, because other than the butchered name conundrum, if the page has more than 3 names, people just tune it out. Morons.
I’ve said it before, Jetstar do this in Christchurch. Rather than page the Mcpherson family, they’ll page Mr David Mcpherson, Mrs Mary Mcpherson, Mr Daniel Mcpherson, Miss Sonia Mcpherson, Mr Nigel Mcpherson and Miss Constance Mcpherson.
Fuckwits!!
Oh, our flight has just been delayed for an hour due to crewing ‘issues’, so I just keep writing.
Finished now. Promise.
