Couldn't get there thanks to cancelled Ryanair

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Of all the flights I have purchased in the past eleven months, none have been as disastrous as my trip to Newquay, thanks to Ryanair Don'tgetyou there.

Sorry it has been so long since I updated my blog, but I returned home unexpectedly early and have spent the last three months in France with my mum.

On Tuesday 19th I flew from Limoges to Stansted, intending to catch the evening flight to Newquay to spend a few days with my dad. Next week, unfortunately, I have to return to the world of work (gizzajob?), so was catching up with Dad before I got back to the real world.

The flight from Limoges to Stansted was uneventful. We landed on time, a fact accompanied by much fanfare from RyanAir who played an announcement over the aircraft tannoy about how reliable they are and how they are more on time than any other airline. We all clapped and laughed. Had I realised just how the evening was going to unfold, I would have found the steward who played the message and beaten him to a pulp, but I was still in the land of make-believe.

A few minutes later and I was back in the UK. As I had some time to kill before I could even check-in for my next flight I settled down with a nice cup of Earl Grey tea and the latest copy of Private Eye. I really know how to live.

I checked in for my next flight at 16:00. Boarding time was at 17.10 from gate 54. I marvelled at how smoothly it had gone and whiled away the time reading all about footballers' weddings in the celebrity magazines. Frank Lampard actually looks more orange than Mrs Beckham, how does he do it?

17.10 came and went and we weren't boarding. Well, when I say we, I mean me. Gate 54 was suspiciously empty. I asked the young lady next to me if she was flying to Newquay. No, she was going to Krakow, which is a little off the beaten track if you are expecting to go to Cornwall. I looked for an information desk, slightly panicked. No such thing. My helpful new friend pointed out a tiny TV screen in the far corner of that departure lounge. Flight FR9904 to Newquay was now leaving from gate 45. Thanks for the announcement!!

I rushed up to gate 45. I needn't have rushed. The lounge was full, but nobody was boarding anything. RyanAir actually made announcements in that departure lounge, so the situation was improving. They announced that our flight was delayed until 18.20 and the situation would be updated every 15 minutes.

Every 15 minutes the situation wasn't updated, the situation was repeated.

17.45 p.m. we were advised to board, from Gate 43, and to head there as quickly as possible. 180 calm, bored passengers became a charging mass. The elderly and young babies were knocked flying in the scrum.

20 hot minutes standing in a seething mass of delayed passengers. We watched our flight taxi to the gate, and then watched the incoming passengers get off. Good thing that RyanAir had made us all rush to the gate to await the plane's arrival.

We finally boarded. I sat next to Dorothy, whom I had met at check-in hours earlier, she was travelling down to Cornwall for a three week holiday. We chatted away quite happily, whilst we waited for RyanAir to work out that the reason so many passengers were missing was because the poor buggers were sitting at Gate 54 awaiting some kind of announcement about the flight.

Finally everyone was on and we were ready to go. It was about18.30.

18.45 we were still all there and still all ready to go. The pilot, in heavily accented and almost intelligible English informed us that delays caused by bad weather over North West London had caused a further delay to our flight, possibly about 90 minutes. However the situation could improve so we should just sit tight and await further announcements.

We sat. They didn't bring round the drinks trolley so unfortunately we couldn't get tight. The man on my left worked for a chain of pubs and was heading to Cornwall for a meeting. I suggested he call his nearest pub and ask for a take-away - 200 pints to Stansted. He didn't seem too keen on the idea. You would think, with the smoking ban looming, the pub industry would be looking for all the goodwill marketing it could get, but some people are so short-sighted.

19.15 and our heavily accented pilot made another announcement. The situation had improved and our new estimated time of departure was now 20:40. A long silence followed as we all subtracted 18:45 from 20:40 and wondered over the use of the word 'improvement'.

Stewardesses chatted to individual passengers and a game of chinese whispers filtered the news round that the pilot, being European, used European time. Obviously he meant 19:40. We were quite chuffed at this. A mere three hour delay. Good old RyanAir. Better still we were able to walk around the aircraft and use mobile phones. Cue the sound of 180 telephone conversations.

19:40 and we still hadn't moved. Possibly he had meant 20:40. A further announcement confirmed that it was, indeed, 20:40. Nobody got out their phone, we weren't banking on anything.

20:05. Our flight was cancelled. But our ever cheerful and polite aircrew informed us that if we all proceeded to baggage control we could get our luggage and 'representatives from RyanAir will be on hand to help you out and tell you what is planned'. As we reached the cockpit area we asked about the delay. The pilot informed me that 'we', as in RyanAir, really, really wanted to depart, but Newquay couldn't stay open because the fireteam wouldn't work late. Therefore ATC had cancelled the flight. Yes other flights were leaving Stansted, yes it was just our flight that was being cancelled and yes everything possible had been done. Good old RyanAir, working so hard on our behalf.

As we left the aircraft we were told we would be escorted for security reasons, and to return 'the way we had come'. The escort raced ahead. She clearly didn't want to be anywhere near us, just in case anyone had the temerity to actually ask for any information. 180 people trickled from the aircraft and went in 180 different directions. The problem with the 'way we had come' was it was 2 hours ago, we were knackered, and confused. So there we all were wandering behind the scenes, with ground crew trying to round us up like demented shepherds herding cats. It is such a good thing that British airports aren't on permanent terrorist alert, otherwise our blundering the wrong way all the time may have posed a major security risk. 'no entry staff only' ... "err, you can go through that door", 'no entry, security', "errr yes, you can go through that door too". "How about this corridor", all staff had buggered off, so we just wandered at will after that point.

We reached the baggage hall, a group of smiling RyanAir representatives greeted us. We each claimed our baggage, which arrived promptly. The groundstaff smiled and assisted the elderly and those with children. We were whisked away to a hotel, a hot meal and a bed for the night, prior to our early morning departure on the aircraft from which we had just departed.

Can you guess, dear reader, which part of that paragraph is a teensy weensy bit untrue? Why yes, all of it. Although we did reach the baggage hall.

We were greeted by .... nobody. A team of RyanAir baggage handlers cowered behind the desk. We asked them to call a RyanAir manager. No, that would do no good. We asked them what was going on. They didn't know, they dealt with baggage. We had to see it from their point of view. They were always left to deal with "it". By "it" I assume they meant the poor, duped passengers who RyanAir dumps unceremoniously off cancelled flights.

After 20 minutes and only half the luggage arrived, the crowd was getting restless. One woman returned again and again to the desk to request a manager, some information, and was fobbed off again and again. Eventually me, for I was that woman, was told that flights were being reallocated on a first come first served basis and the next available flight was now Saturday.

Saturday? It was Tuesday. My return flight was Saturday. I would actually miss my return flight if I waited until Saturday. I relayed this information to my fellow passengers. We all demanded more information. Same boot-faced response, nothing could be done until we got our bags and went to the ticketing office in area J. I asked why they couldn't put on another flight. Apparently RyanAir don't have any spare aircraft - even though the aircraft we had just got off was meant to be in Newquay. It was obviously intended for a flight which was deemed more lucrative to RyanAir than ours.

Eventually we all ended up in area J. The queue was massive. The lucky few had flights the next day. We asked if an announcement could be made, as chaos was an understatement. We were told to wait our turn. The groundstaff were hostile, aggressive, ill-informed, ill-tempered, ill-mannered and clearly trained to be as unhelpful as possible. Such a good thing RyanAir have such a good punctuality record, otherwise I might have started to think that they were a bunch of charlatans who had taken our money on false pretences.

When we were first informed of the cancellation, I was really tempted to say to everyone 'sit down, refuse to move until they tell us what really happened, how they are going to get us to Newquay, when, and what compensation we will get', but I didn't. How I regretted it.

RyanAir's policy was clearly to get us off the aircraft, separate us - divide and rule, and treat us all like dirt until we went away. Refunds were promised 'if you write in'. Elderly people, young travellers with no funds, mothers with young infants - not RyanAir's problem. Despite the European Court of Justice's ruling in January 2006 that all airlines operating in Europe had a legal obligation to compensate for cancelled flights, RyanAir is clearly above such laws. RyanAir don't have spare aircraft, do not pay compensation and clearly have no duty of care towards their passengers. They'd had our money, now would we just sod off and leave them to get on with what they do best - buggering around other passengers.

I tried to get the other passengers to stop letting RyanAir treat them as individuals and cattle and negotiate with us as a group. Most of them weren't having any of it, but I did gather a little band of like minded travellers. I was so glad of them, I felt far less of a lunatic for racing round everyone saying 'don't let them get to you'. I was like a deranged extra from Dr Who, fighting the evil aliens single-handedly whilst everyone else waits for David Tennant to arrive. I recalled that it is always the deranged extra who gets killed first by the evil aliens. I pushed that thought to the back of my little mind.

One of the ground staff was so unhelpful that I began to wonder if she was actually an evil alien, or at least worked for a competitor and was part of a dirty tricks campaign to discredit RyanAir. She was so incredibly rude it took even my breath away. She screeched at me that it wasn't the airline's fault Newquay wouldn't stay open. A fellow passenger pointed out that, actually, it was. Newquay close at the same time every night, RyanAir would know that, would have known that at 6.45 and so waiting until 8 to cancel our flight was totally unreasonable. Unhelpful aggressive ground hostess was obviously taking time off from her other job ....Bitch Queen from Hell.

I asked the lovely Queenie if alternatives could be provided, such as a flight the next morning. Her response - "we are a busy airline, we don't have spare aircraft hanging around". I tried to point out that actually they did, we had just got off it. Queenie wasn't having any of my clever remarks and did what the superthick do in such situations, pretended to be dealing with another customer. I knew she wasn't really talking to him, she was smiling and being polite, so obviously she wasn't communicating with an actual RyanAir passenger.

Then I asked about further alternatives. Queenie's friend, using a tone a few thousandths of a degree less chillingly than Queenie's tone, informed me, in screech mode, that she had called RyanAir's Head Office in Dublin, who had refused to allow them to offer us any help at all. I suggested alternative methods of transport such as coaches. Queenie's head swivelled towards me. Ah ha - I had got her attention. Her eyes gave me a look that would make a lesser woman's blood run cold. "I'll do that shall I, I'll just hire a coach out of my own salary shall I". Queenie smirked knowingly at her colleague as if she had just said something very clever in a political debate on Question Time, rather than been incredibly rude to a paying passenger. I said I didn't care who paid, her or RyanAir. Queenie legged it as fast as her cloven hooves could carry her.

I noticed two policemen standing nearby. I went up to them and suggested they arrest all RyanAir staff, but made sure I pointed in Queenie's direction, for taking our money on false pretences. The policemen looked over at Queenie . They studied her for a while. They looked down at their semi-automatic weapons and looked at me. They said nothing, but I knew we were in agreement, only pure silver bullets work on the undead, and Essex police's budget doesn't run to silver bullets.

The policemen were polite, helpful and ... got me nowhere. Still it whiled away a few minutes. They did, however, inform me that they had been asked to hover nearby in case we rioted. RyanAir, who had taken our money and then dumped us late at night with no compensation, no way of getting to our destination, actually called the police to us.

I returned to the group of fellow passengers. We agreed alternatives had to be found. A young man in a yellow t-shirt suggested a taxi or a minibus. We went to the taxi stand. They quoted £500 for 3 people in a minibus with their luggage.

Another passenger told us National Express had a coach at 10 p.m. to Newquay. It was 9.15. We dashed to the National Express desk. They had one seat left. We agreed that the passenger who had flown from Spain for an interview in Cornwall should take it. He said he couldn't leave us. We were a small group of mismatched people, who had never met, had nothing in common except being treated appallingly by a company to which we had all paid good money and there we all were, standing by each other.

We did the rounds of the hire car companies. We couldn't get a one way hire. Evenutally we got a minibus for 7 people from Budget. It would work out at £600 including petrol. We would be driving through the night. Six of us went for it. Me, man from Spain, man in yellow t-shirt, Dorothy whom I had met 6 hours earlier at the check-in desk and a couple going on holiday for a few days. It had to be returned to Stansted so I said I would drive back on Saturday along with anyone else who needed to get back.

I dashed back to the lovely RyanAir to tell the others our plan, in case another group wanted to do the same. I bumped into the young lady with the tiny baby. She was in tears. Her baby car seat had taken so long to come through baggage control that she was last in the queue. I offered her a seat on our bus. She said someone from Newquay was on their way to pick her up. I felt sick for her. I couldn't believe that nobody from RyanAir felt they had a duty of care towards at least the most vulnerable passengers.

Another lady in a group of 4 came up and exchanged phone numbers with me so we could coordinate our plan of attack later. Two asian girls came up and begged a space on our bus. We didn't have the space. I could see the two young guys in our bus weighing up their chances of tieing Dorothy and I to the roof rack whilst they travelled with the lovely young ladies, but I was a named driver, and so knackered were they at this stage that I actually seemed a better bet. There is always something to be said for middle age.

The boys dragged me out of the departures hall before I collected more waifs and strays, but we all felt guilty at our comrades that we left behind on the battlefield. I wondered how long Tom Hanks would take to come and rescue them.

Outside it was peeing down. We found our bus. We got all our luggage in, even the man from Spain's surfboard. We got us in. We set off. We got 10 yards when we realised the boot wouldn't shut. We rearranged the luggage. It didn't help. Queenie had clearly cursed me. You just never have a string of garlic and wooden stake when you need it. I dashed back to Budget, who immediately rushed out with the keys to another van.

22:10, a mere 10 hours after I arrived at Stansted we set off for Cornwall. After over 2 hours wandering Stansted together it actually occurred to us to exchange names. I called the boys 'surfer boy' and 'yellow t-shirt boy'. Surfer boy called all the ladies on the bus 'babes'. His eyes must have been really tired, bless him.

Surfer boy was actually called Noz. Yellow t-shirt man, our other nominated driver, was Alan. The holiday couple were Rosemary and Stephen, plus Dorothy and me. We chatted animatedly for about the first hour, then we dozed off and left poor Alan to stay awake alone and get us there. I did lift my head up about every 30 minutes and mumble "Alan, youstillokordyouwantmetodrive". But Alan was a real trooper and just kept going, or maybe he had heard about my terrible driving. I took photos of the gang when we stopped for tea, and to plan our hate campaign against RyanAir. We were so stunned at RyanAir's attitude, you had to laugh.

We arrived in Newquay at 4 a.m. A delay of 9 hours and an extra cost of £100 per passenger, one way. It was atrocious. Absolutely atrocious.

Alan left us at Newquay and I took over the driving, I dropped everyone off, and fell into my dad's house at 5.30.

I hate RyanAir, absolutely hate them. I have been interviewed by the BBC, written to anyone and everyone and will campaign and campaign until I get a refund and compensation. But equally I want someone to rule that RyanAir have a duty of care, particularly to vulnerable passengers. I still worry if the lady with the baby got home safely. I have vowed never to use them again, and am sure I am not the only passenger on that flight to make such a vow.

However, on the plus side, I did get to spend the night with two young men! Not many middle-aged women can achieve that just by yelling at 180 other passengers and a few groundstaff. Everyone in our bus was lovely, we were a little team, after we got over the shock of being unceremoniously dumped it became something of an adventure and we got there in the end. That will go down in my diary as a night to remember!

Should you be planning on a trip and be foolish enough to risk RyanAir - if they cancel the flight refuse to get off until you have all the necessary information, onwards travel and/or accommodation and you know exactly how much compensation you are getting. The minute they get you off that aircraft, you are lost. But do remember, you are legally entitled to compensation, regardless of what the evil aliens try and tell you.

Happy Travelling.

Viv xx

Ryanair update - 28 June 2006.
I spoke to BBC Radio Cornwall - the Laurence Reed show, who were very interested and asked for all the details. They telephoned Ryanair who would not speak on air, but said they would like to 'apologise to all passengers on FR9904'. Great, that's a huge help.

Then Laurence spoke to Andrew Mitchell (AM), the manager of Newquay Airport, who confirmed that the reason given by Ryanair for the cancellation was 'factual'. The County Council own the airport, the RAF seem to run it operationally, and sub-contract fire control to National Defence Fire Services. Ryanair need extra provision for fire cover, which is only available until 9 p.m. On many occasions Ryanair ask for an extension and it is met, on this occasion it wasn't - but AM didn't know why.

Laurence pointed out that it doesn't make the airport look very professional and isn't a good advert for Cornwall. He also pointed out that there is no love lost between Ryanair and the airport. AM denied that this was the case.

I have since then spoken to Ryanair who told me I would have to write in for compensation, but they did give me a refund in full, whilst I was on the telephone to them. This was odd because I said I was going to write in for a refund, I didn't ask the person to whom I spoke for an immediate refund. I then asked why we didn't at least get refunds at Stansted. Apparently Stansted 'don't have the facilities to give refunds'.

I have written to Andrew Mitchell, via Newquay Airport website, but haven't yet received a reply. I have also emailed Ryanair, Michael O'Leary (CEO) and BAA, and have had absolutely no response. The "Ryanair Campaign" have advised me to also contact the Air Transport Users Council - who don't answer their phones at all, my local MP and newspaper and magazine consumer editors. So I will.

Over 200 people were abandoned late at night in Stansted and Newquay airports. Why is this acceptable? Why do Ryanair get away with it again and again and again?

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Comments

[Emma]

Well at least this experience will make the daily commute to London seem like a doddle - or am I tempting fate?