Qatar Airways

Ok... I'm in qatar... there I said it... are you happy now? you know what they say, the start of any healing process is admitting the problem.

This leads me nicely into Qatar Airways. thats because I make the trip to the UAE regularly and QR, (as its affectionately known as in the IATA circle) is probably one of the worst airlines I have had the misfortune to fly with. Granted, they have a fleet of excellent aircraft and are growing faster than a hermits beard but the service (unless you travel business or first) is abysmal.

Just to summarise a few interesting experiences over the last 24 months:

Learner Pilot : One flight to the UAE culminated with the pilot coming in for a landing, putting down the landing gear, then about 50m from the ground immediately going into a steep climb at full throttle. Needless to say, the porosity of my undergarments was severely tested that day. Apparently, the pilot was fired (I guess once he'd sobered up).

Musical Suitcases : Another flight saw us board and then all the baggage was unloaded from the aircraft and layed out on the tarmac. We were then instructed (in groups) to disembark, board the bus, be driven to the other side of the aircraft, identify our luggage (which was then reloaded) and then board the bus again and be driven round again to board the aircraft.

Phantom Passenger : We've all lost luggae on flights, but last week, I was on a flight where the luggage lost the passenger. Apparently, a transit passenger's luggage arrived and was loaded onto the aircraft but the passenger was nowhere to be found!  I guess he ended up on a flight to some african outpost and his luggage would have to submit a claim while it waited for his arrival in the Four Seasons. Of course, he will be found but his clothes will have mysterious tears in them, his pockets will be empty, all his zippers will be broken and he will be covered with footprints.

But last month has to take the biscuit as the most memorable experience. I was (again!) on a chocabloc flight sitting with all the other sardines in cattle class. I was in the middle seat and you can bet your bottom dollar that when I'm in that seat I will invariably be between the fattest person on that flight and the smelliest person on that flight.

Now, Mr Smelly insists on flapping his arms incessantly, wafting an interesting aroma of rotten fried onions and decomposing flesh in my direction. However, on this occasion, Mr Smelly decides that even HE can't bear the accridity of it and attempts to adjust the air vent above his head so he can dissipate the problem. This, as you all may have guessed now, exposes the "danger zone" (his armpit) and points it in my direction. I can't be certain, but I could have sworn that I heard the sound of african howler monkeys in there and see green mist, but my memory is etched by the smell which was straight from satans bottom. At this point, flight or fight syndrome takes over and your body goes into survival mode. So choking back the tears and trying to forget the burning sensation in my throat, I edge closer to Mr Fat Guy sitting in the window seat. Obviously, Mr Fat Guy, feeling territorial at this point, makes it more difficult by expanding his oversized chest and pushing his arms outward. My survival instincts are much too strong at this point and I am virtually lying across him. Then it happened. Something  I hadn't anticipated. The jet of cold air that Mr Smelly had been coaxing out of the vent with his trembling hand shot out, ran all the way down his arm down to his armpit and hit me straight in the face. I never stood a chance.

Apparently, I was told that,when i eventually came around, I was incapable of any coherent speech and had to be led to the back of the plane where I fell into a deep sleep.

This week, at the gate, I was upgraded. I cried like a baby.