To Guernsey and back: the Easy way.
Travelling to Guernsey can involve some complications which I will not go into, but suffice it to say, that after much investigation, it appeared the best way to go was to take a budget airline called, for some incomprehensible reason, “Easy Jet”. I would use Easy Jet to go to Manchester from Tel Aviv, and to come back from Gatwick.
In an effort to make the whole thing bearable, Mike paid for several upgrades such as a seat with leg room, and something called “Easy Boarding” which was meant to ensure that you could take a slightly larger piece of carry-on luggage, and that you could get on the plane ahead of the regular shleppers, so you could find a place to stow it.
My first brush with the Easy experience was the discovery that although Easy Jet does fly out of Ben Gurion, it does not do so from the new Terminal 3, but from the old Terminal 1, a terminal I did not realize existed anymore. (Mike flew into this terminal in 1971!) As it turns out, you cannot go directly to Terminal 1; you have to go first to Terminal 3, and from there take a bus that runs every 15 minutes, (or so). This regular city-style bus was crammed, not just with passengers and staff, but with all kinds of luggage that had no business being on a bus, including a large flat-screen TV that ended up being left on the curb. (I hope it was not blown up.)
After what seemed like a long ride, the old terminal being quite close to the town of Lod, and not very close to anything else, we pulled up, I went through the usual three-step security process, and settled in for a three-hour wait. This little terminal is a bit of a walk down memory lane back to the times when airline travel was just taking off, so to speak. Picture a modest rectangular version of the old Malton terminal 1 in Toronto, (without the fancy rooftop restaurant, where my father used to take us, and where I distinctly remember eating my first and only Baked Alaska). Both that airport and Baked Alaska are no longer with us. But Terminal 1 in Tel Aviv is, and it is hoping that charm will offset inconvenience.
After a few modest delays, it was finally time for the “Easy Boarding” experience. We lucky ones were duly called up first… so far, so good. Then, there being no jet-bridges, we were herded down some stairs to ground level to wait to take a bus to the airplane…but naturally there was no bus. More and more people piled up in the smallish downstairs foyer, and then were backed right up the stairs. After about 15 minutes or so of this, a bus finally pulled up and we all pressed forward, anxious to secure a good spot, but the foyer doors remained locked, and we continued to wait…
Needless to say, at this point Easy and non-Easy Boarders were all standing together, as egalitarian as can be, (as we would be on the bus.) Not only that, everyone had a ridiculous amount of non-conforming carry-on, whether or not they had paid for it. (It was going to be a free-for-all on the plane.) Now we continued to wait. The crowd, being largely British, and therefore polite, finally began to get restive, muttering: “Easy Boarding…hah!”, “We paid extra for this?”, “Easy for whom?”, and a few choice rebranding ideas such as: “Sleazy Jet”, “Queasy Jet”, “Cheesy Jet”, “Uneasy Jet” and so on. All in a northern British accent, which makes everything sound witty.
No one ever told us why we could not get on the empty bus that was just sitting out there; Easy Jet philosophy and Israeli bureaucracy being exquisitely aligned to ensure maximum customer frustration. But finally, after another 10-15 minutes, the doors opened, and there was a rush for the bus. And let me tell you, between the strollers and the kids, and the carry-ons etc., it was a very close “haimishe” experience, during which I got to know my fellow passengers as we bonded over our collective sense of Easy grievance. So I heard about the wedding in Netanya, the Bar Mitzvah in Tel Aviv, the family visit in Rehovot…you get the idea. Being from Canada, I was quite the novelty, all the more so because I was going to visit Manchester for a few days…by choice!
Once on board, I found that Easy Jet has adopted one practice that I think is actually quite clever considering their tightly spaced budget seat configuration. They have installed seats with no lean-back function, possibly because they are cheaper and less likely to malfunction. But the outcome is to avoid the kind of air-rage that is inspired by having your mini dinner tray land up against your chest. This only left overhead bin rage to deal with. After that was all sorted, the 5 hour flight was smooth sailing, and I was fully prepared for the lack of catering and entertainment, having flown on Rouge.
Finally we landed, and it being well after midnight, the airport was quiet, so we pulled right up to a gate with a jet-bridge. A jet-bridge! I was pleasantly surprised. But alas, the jet-bridge, despite being right there, was not to be used by us Easy customers, this kind of luxury being beyond the Easy budget. So we went down the airplane stairs, onto the tarmac, into the terminal at ground level, back up the interior stairs, and on to customs and immigration. Not so good for young families and the elderly. But I was finally in Manchester…and Chris was waiting…with food!
Our flight from Manchester to Guernsey a couple of days later, on a Guernsey airline, was uneventful, and I had a wonderful visit.
Then it was time to come home. The plan was to take the 7:00 a.m. Aurigny flight out of Guernsey to Gatwick’s south terminal, switch to the north terminal, use the trusty “Easy Boarding” system and fly to Tel Aviv. But through a series of misadventures, I ended up on the 10:20 flight, which, since it was on Aurigny’s only jet, should normally have left more than enough time to catch my flight from Gatwick at 12:50. That is… if it left on time…which sadly it did not, a not uncommon occurrence on the island, (or on any island for that matter). An hour late, we took off. When we landed at Gatwick we pulled right up to a gate with a jet-bridge (yes!), and again I allowed myself some hope…which was silly…really. I should have known better.
Down the plane stairs we went, onto the tarmac, into the terminal, up the jet-bridge stairs, then down the stairs on the other side of the jet-bridge, out another door, back onto the tarmac and into a bus. I was baffled. Why didn’t we just cross under the jet-bridge to get directly into the bus? And why were we using a bus at all if we were right next to a jet-bridge which leads right into the terminal? Stairs and buses are not the first thing I associate with air travel, but they were certainly a big part of this trip.
Anyway, the bus took us to the baggage area, which must have been round the other side of the terminal, and I headed for the train-link to the North terminal where I dashed up to my special exclusive Easy Boarding security line, 10 minutes before the flight, but 20 minutes after the gate had closed. Just my luck that of all days, this was the one that they had an on-time departure. And nothing could be done to help. The improperly named Customer “Service” desk confirmed: there would be no Tel Aviv flights for 48 hours (so sorry), there would be no refunds or flight credits (so sorry again), and… good luck to you! Easy Peasy.
Thankfully, Chris and Rob had been on-line when I was in the air, and they bailed me out with a British Airways flight out of Heathrow, which I had three and a half hours to catch. That might have been iffy on a business day, Gatwick to Heathrow being a long busy drive, but on a Sunday afternoon…no problem. I got there, found the terminal, got my boarding pass, and all was well.
Except for the strike by French air traffic controllers…which required a re-routing over Sweden(!) that was to add two and a half hours to the 5 hour flight, getting me in at around 3:00 a.m….sigh.
But…joy restored…a new route was found just as we boarded, and I made it home at 1:00 in the morning only slightly the worse for wear: one delay, one missed flight, and four airports later.