Well, I’m on the last leg of my Stockholm trip, a six-hour flight on Icelandair. Followers of the Migrant Blogger know that Icelandair is not among my favorites, typically failing to get even the basics right. The trip home from Sweden has put everything in the airline’s favor. From Stockholm to Keflavik, I had an entire row to myself. From Keflavik to JFK, I have an empty seat next to me-not as good, but still plenty of room.So, how did Icelandair screw it up?
There is a certain value in getting the basics right. As far as service goes, it is clear that the flight attendants work for a government entity that affords a considerable amount of job attention.
Translation = They Suck
The attendants are far from attentive, at one point walking away from me while I was speaking with her. Well into the flight (approximately four hours), I asked for some pretzels and a cup of black coffee-a request that doesn’t seem terribly unreasonable. I was told, “We’re preparing to serve a meal again.” So, I asked, “That means I won’t be getting it anytime soon, right?” Evidently not paying attention, or suffering from a fit of acute honesty, the flight attendant replied, “Yes,” and walked away. I saw her walk the aisle several times, and she had more than enough time to grab some black coffee and pretzels for me.
[picture of a cup of coffee at left]
When the asshole waitress finally got back to me, she told me that they didn’t have any more pretzels on the plane … and offered to sell me Pringles. I fucking hate Pringles. I didn’t ask for Pringles. I asked for pretzels. When I first asked for pretzels, she could have fucking told me that she didn’t have any. Not very attentive …
Icelandic Logic Lesson
Pretzels – etze + ing = Pringls + e = Pringles
I guess there is a way to back into her foolish bait and switch.
This may not sound like much, but when you have been traveling (from the time I left the hotel) for around 11 hours-and still have close to four in front of you when you count customs and the long ride from JFK to the Upper West Side -the little things are magnified.
Another small point that can be a colossal irritation is that the TV screens at each seat offer a trivia game. But, when you try to play it, you are instructed to use the handheld control … yet there is no such fucking device on or near your seat. Then, the damned system is unresponsive when you try to get out of the trivia game. I fucked with this for a while before finally responding.
The best part: the meals. For packaged sandwiches, they aren’t bad, and at €5 a pop, the price could be worse. But, I do still object to having to pay for food on a six-hour, cross-Atlantic flight. This is complete bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. One should not get hit up for grub when spending almost an entire workday sitting in coach. That is just unacceptable.
I guess I understand the motivation. The Icelandic financial system is on the brink of fucking ruin. Go figure, the country of flight attendants who can’t figure out how to “attend” drives its entire economy into the shitter. Why am I not shocked? So, I guess they’re treating their planes as in-flight fucking bodegas as a way to bring some real currency-not the dopey Icelandic Kroner [LINK:currency article]-into the country.
So, Icelandair, you have fucked me over, however trivially, once again. The only reason I flew you this time is because I had no choice. Someone else paid for the ticket. If I ever go back to Iceland, I’ll fly your airline because I have no choice. If I ever fly your airline to anyplace but Iceland, it will be because someone else made me (i.e., paid for the flight). You guys blow.