I flew back to London today on perhaps the world’s most famous budget airline, Ryan Air. As usual, it was a terrible experience.
Delayed by an hour, bag stuck on a different carousel, and my attempted nap was abruptly disturbed by pitches to buy duty free fags AND scratchies. That said, I’m not actually that pissed off right now.
Here’s why:
Rule 1: expectations – reality = happiness. If you treat Ryan Air as a bus with wings, you’re normally fine. The people who blow a gasket are the people who think they’re £30 Standsted to Majorca flight should be the equivalent of a Heathrow to Changi flying Singapore First Class.
Rule 2: Comparison is the thief of joy, (but only if you’re comparing to something better). People like to talk smack about the American Airlines, and sure, they’re not Singapore FC. But they’re not bad. I fly United a fair bit, and find them to be perfectly good. In fact, after this trip, I might even they’re just slightly better. Joy abounds.
Rule 3: gratitude. A seat that doesn’t recline isn’t amazing, but do you know what is? Flying. Being in a metal tube, being able to go from one country to another and back for $200, and do so safely? No one flew 150 years ago, and only the very wealthy flew 50. It’s a privilege to have the opportunity to go work and spend time in Barcelona, a city I know so little about. While I didn’t get to see much, I did have a great dinner on my own last night by the beach.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
