Fuck you, Ryanair

I may frequent the realms of obscenity and words of the vulgar spectrum, though I was refraining myself from swearing.

The woman insisted that I’m not to board the plane without checking in my rucksack as I retrieved it from the dimension-measuring box. Otherwise effortless if it wasn’t for the metal bars that ensnarled my backpack, hauling it out laboriously simply further consolidated her claim that it exceeded the baggage allowance.

“But it’s a rucksack, it’s flexible,” I pleaded. I was lingering in the sweet-talk phrase, my charmer’s stage of negotiation; yet my voice was trembling, my fists clenched and teeth gritted – indication that I had done an all-nighter at Cork Airport.

It was what she seized and ascended to moral high ground: my increasingly-aggressive tone.

“I’m not having an argument with you sir. Unless you pay the €35 you’ve not travelling with us today sir.”

Despite my best efforts – I even dealt the trump-card of declaring my travel-writer status – I gingerly slithered to the ATM and withdrew the cash, submitted to the coercion and boarded the plane brimming with a headful of foul language.

And only to discovered that, firstly, my rucksack fit perfectly into the overhead cabinet and, secondly, nobody stopped me from dodging the baggage check-in queue and simply brought my bag onboard.

Setting foot in London Stansted, finally remedied of my sleep deprivation, the outburst of suppressed syllables simply chundered from my mouth into the arrival hall –

Fuck you Ryanair, fuck you.

It isn’t like I’m a novice in defence-against-Ryanair’s-arts-of-swindle; my tendency of being the reckless traveller, skimming through small prints and ignoring finer details does often render me susceptible to fraudsters and loophole predators – Ryanair being one of them.

I was buying a ticket to fly home from Marrakech – the decision to purchase Ryanair’s services and temporarily severe myself from my core principles ands anti-Ryanair sentiments was solely because my travel companion Tori had booked that certain flight, and that I wanted to return to England with her.

Even whilst navigating through their website for the first time in eons, my premonition had prophesised the consequences of my bad decision.

Having dodged the hidden fees only to succumb to a few, I was informed by the confirmation page that I must check in online and have a printed copy of the e-ticket on-hand at the airport.

Both my common sense and logistic knowledge protested. Have I ever been told that checking in online is compulsory? Don’t be absurd. And where am I suppose to find a printer in Marrakech? Much less likely than scoring a tagine and mint tea only to be mercilessly conned by the waiter’s souvenir-store-owner brother-in-law.

The ponder was cut short when my allocated internet allowance lapsed and, confronted by a blank screen and an edgy internet café manager, I rested my case.

And thus I placed my fate on the hands of whom accustomed to and lucratively gaining from urinated on people’s destinies.

The bomb shell was dropped onto my credit card and sent shrapnel piercing through my traveller’s dignity – neglecting a few clicks and the mere piece of paperwork had cost me a sizeable €40.

There should be no debate or barter, the check-in girl stated – it’s all in the microscopic – albeit legally-binding – policy declaration.

One would have thought that equipped with a cautionary tale, I would forever be repulsed and forever rebuking any consideration of travelling with Ryanair again. Which, evidently, hadn’t been the case – I later travelled to and from Ireland after all.

It’s very much the same with many people, seasoned voyagers and beginners alike – no matter how recurrently they get intoxicated with fury and outrage, no wonder how many exclamations of “never again!” they make, they will be spotted again by the check-in desk condescended with sadistic deception, by the boarding gate sized up and their baggage measured by miscreants.

Ryanair has always had a place in our hearts – and by that I meant the carcinogenic blemish rather than a spot of affection. It’s like having to babysit a result-of-inbredism cousin – good money, but occasionally having your money mooched and your fingers bitten off.

There’s little doubt that us plebs rely on its cheap offerings – none more evident than finding their planes jam-packed with often-indignant passengers. Ryanair operates with ethics closely resembling that of a spam-tinning factory, its owner’s morals – or lack of – masochistic enough to infect and convert any of his employees from kind philanthropists to industrialistic budget-slayers with penchants from cunning and outright bullying.

If I felt I had corrupted my soul for opting to fly with Ryanair, then surely those working for Michael O’Leary were to be split into seven parts and condemned to every level of Dante’s hell for all eternity.

And the sin for which Ryanair deserved to be judged most harshly upon would be its deception and betrayal.

For a country whose natives are notorious for their touting and scamming, it was Ryanair that had inflicted the deepest wound on my finances throughout my time in Morocco. Fast-forwarding to the more recent mishap: when I was travelling out of London Stansted I was neither questioned nor suspected for the size of my rucksack – thus I was lured into the false sense of security, led into thinking that I would encounter no resistance – or in this case conflict – at the boarding gate on my way home.

I may feel inclined to defend the methods and credibility of budget airlines – indeed, my Ryanair flight delivered in terms of punctuality – and none of the likes of EasyJet and Jetstar have committed any wrongdoing against me. Nor am I attacking their employees or patrons in general. But then Ryanair has provoked my anger by stepping over the boundary – that of morality and basic human decency.

Ryanair, I swore to exact my vengeance upon you. The fury of my pen shall never rest for as long as I’m an advocate against your inhumane and shameful conducts. May I urge you, dear readers, to join me for the boycott – by opting for alternatives and paying a little extra, you may well need not to trade your dignity for a treatment even animal rights activists won’t approve of.

Tagged as: airline, budget, ethics, flying, Ireland, rant, transport