Latest news with #BA11
The Independent
16-03-2025
- The Independent
‘Please make this 13-hour flight even longer': how air passengers' rights rules distort behaviour
Unlike most of the other 450 passengers booked aboard British Airways flight BA11 from London Heathrow to Singapore on 30 January, I was carrying only cabin baggage. The Airbus A380 'SuperJumbo' was due to fly around 450 of us to the tropics. When, 80 minutes before the scheduled departure, a text message arrived saying the flight was cancelled for technical reasons, I had a head start. No need to join the throng waiting forlornly to collect their checked luggage from Baggage Reclaim 10. Instead, I could open discussions with ticketing staff at Terminal 5 about how BA planned to respond in accordance with air passengers' rights rules. The collection of rules known as EU261 has been in force for 20 years. The legislation has two parts: A duty of care in the event of long delays or cancellations, whatever the cause: meals, hotels and alternative transportation as appropriate Payment of hundreds of pounds in compensation for cancellations and delays of three hours or more when the airline is responsible When a friendly member of British Airways ground staff told me I had been rebooked on Qatar Airways via Doha, I gently reminded him that I had booked a nonstop flight and wished to exercise my right to 'rerouting under comparable transport conditions at the earliest opportunity'. In the two decades since the rules were poorly drafted, nothing has been done to improve them – such as replacing the term 'rerouting'. Rerouting is something satnavs do when you miss a turn or hit heavy traffic. People understand it to mean that you choose a different way from A to B. In reality, passengers whose flights have been cancelled want to be flown on exactly the same route. In many cases, this is what happens. 'Flying to your destination' is the clear and accurate term that should be used. The rules are currently under scrutiny – that is just a tiny part of what needs to be fixed. All too often, airlines flout their duty of care with impunity, due to the authorities' lack of enforcement. And the payouts resemble aviation bingo, governed more by luck than reason. Back at the ticket counter, my BA friend agreed that 'comparable transport conditions at the earliest opportunity' meant a nonstop flight on the next Singapore Airlines flight from Heathrow: SQ319, due to arrive 95 minutes after the original departure. That was the 'duty of care' half of the air passengers' rights rules in action; British Airways handed the £525 I paid for my seat to Singapore Airlines. But what about the compensation part? In the event of a long-haul cancellation, a resulting delay in arrival of two hours triggers a £260 payout; after four hours, it's £520. Assuming the plane arrived on time, I would not qualify. But an unexplained half-hour hold-up in departure put that £260 into play. If it stayed that way, my delay in arrival would be five minutes over the two-hour line. Airlines routinely 'pad' schedules, allowing extra time in order to protect connections – crucial at a hub like Singapore. So I imagined much of the delay would be made up. But nearing the city state, air-traffic controllers routed the plane on an extended approach. Touchdown was an hour and 52 minutes after my BA plane had been due to arrive – now it was all down to the crew and the length of the taxi to the gate. Please extend this 13-hour flight just a bit more, I said to myself. We pulled up dead on two hours, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It would take at least one minute to open the first door, which is the moment deemed to be the arrival time under the EU261 regulations. British Airways initially rejected my claim, saying the landing time was under two hours late, but came round and handed over almost half the fare I had paid. I have been on enough delayed flights where no compensation has been paid to be grateful for the payout. But was my inconvenience really worth £130 per hour? No. Compensation running into hundreds of pounds for relatively minor disruption is barmy. For delays, cash payouts kick in three hours behind schedule. For European flights, you get the same whether the delay is 180 minutes or 24 hours. And that cliff edge has resulted, I contend, in more flights being delayed. For example, I was waiting in Tirana for a Wizz Air flight to Beauvais in northern France. According to Flightradar24, the aircraft intended for my flight was all on schedule. Suddenly, the plane was assigned to a different route from the Albanian capital. The reason: another Wizz Air flight would have operated over three hours late. Rather than take the potential hit of perhaps £60,000 in EU261 claims, the airline shuffled the fleet – reducing the delay for that flight. Ours was 90 minutes late, which meant two flights were delayed rather than just one. The existing rules encourage consumer-unfriendly behaviour; they can't change soon enough. Simon Calder, also known as The Man Who Pays His Way, has been writing about travel for The Independent since 1994. In his weekly opinion column, he explores a key travel issue – and what it means for you.
The Independent
11-02-2025
- Business
- The Independent
Simon Calder: How my Emirates business class experience compared to economy
Emirates is 40 years old this year. Since beginning in 1985 with two planes borrowed from Pakistan International Airlines, the Dubai -based carrier has expanded to transform the world – connecting more than 150 cities from its hub in the Gulf. Many British travellers choose Emirates due to its excellent range of UK departure points – Birmingham, Manchester, Newcastle, Edinburgh and Glasgow as well as three London airports – and its easy onward connections to Asia, Africa and Australasia. I have always flown economy on Emirates and found it superb. But due to an unusual set of circumstances I booked a business-class ticket from Singapore to Melbourne. This is one of the 'fifth freedom' routes the airline operates, flying between two foreign countries as extensions of services from Dubai. Other examples include Barcelona to Mexico City and Miami to Bogota. The 'hard product' was unimpressive, but there was much to enjoy along the way. This is the timeline (all in Singapore time) for my adventure in the front of the plane. Friday 3.35am: British Airways cancels flight BA11 from London Heathrow to Singapore just 80 minutes before departure due to mechanical problems. Friday 6pm: After a swift switch to Singapore Airlines organised by BA, I arrive in the Southeast Asian city-state over two hours behind schedule, but still in good time for my 9pm onward departure to Melbourne on the Qantas budget subsidiary, Jetstar. Friday 7.40pm: Jetstar cancels flight JQ8 just 80 minutes before departure due to one pilot going sick. Staff decline to rebook passengers on the last Australia-bound flight of the night on Qantas. The only options: a replacement Jetstar flight the following evening, or a refund. As I have plans for Saturday night in Melbourne, I choose the latter. But aircraft heading for the Australian city are extremely full. All times from now onwards are on Saturday. 1am: Finally I find a seat on Emirates flight EK404 that is due to leave Singapore at 10.10am and arrive in Melbourne at 5.35pm. Fares are extremely high – far more than the £300 I paid for my Jetstar flight. So I transfer some American Express Reward Points to my Emirates Skywards account. The only seat available for points is in business class: 87,000 miles plus £52 in cash. 8.10am: I visit the Emirates lounge, hoping to forage for breakfast. The staff are welcoming and helpful; the view out to the western runway is excellent; but the food is unappetising and reminiscent of a budget hotel. 8.30am: After a coffee and some fruit, I go to play in the airport – which has a vast amount of interest 'airside' – including the amazing shuttle which swerves between terminals 2 and 3. 9.30am: My flight is boarding from Gate C23. I reach the location and meet a throng of passengers queuing for the security search (which is carried out at the gate in Singapore). But then I spot a sign inviting first and business class passengers to jump the queue. The same happens inside the gate lounge; I am invited to use a dedicated airbridge and breeze straight on board. Rows 1 and 2 look wonderful; but these four-abreast seats, it turns out, are first class. Business class is seven abreast. 9.40am: Champagne or fruit juice? I make myself an awkward customer. I'd like a cup of tea, please. (I later discover in Australia that Emirates has dispensation to offer champagne but no other alcohol while flights are on the ground.) The tea, served in a proper-sized mug, arrives five minutes later. Just what I needed after a stressful 30 hours. 10.05am: The captain (who is Swiss) welcomes us in English. Flight time seven hours, he announces. 10.10am: Departure time comes and goes while we stayed firmly anchored to Gate C23. Surely first and business class passengers get to depart sooner than those down the back? Oh wait … The Boeing 777 pushes back around 10 minutes late and joins a long line of budget aircraft waiting to take off. 10.45am: Finally take-off, which you can watch thanks to the on-board cameras. 11.10am: With the seat belt sign switched off, time to examine my surroundings. I make notes: ' Business class buys you lots more legroom, but hardly any more elbow room. With seat dividers that draw their inspiration from the Berlin Wall cutting into the width profile, everything is narrow and, dare I say it, coffin-like. The closest experience I have had to this is in the dentist's chair.' 11.30am: I am still trying to make sense of the machinery and operating systems. Emirates and other airlines really should run training courses for passengers before they are allowed near a business class seat so they can make the most of the experience. Besides the electronics, there is lots of analogue machinery, with buttons to raise or lower the screens, the seat recline and a mysterious button marked 'Press'. I don't. 11.55am: Lunch is served. The first course is a beautifully presented mezze and side salad. Lovely dressing, condiments and a weighty wedge of cutlery. If I had a complaint, it would be that the pitta bread was cold and past its fresh best. Goodness, how quick one can acquire a sense of entitlement in the posh seats. This being Emirates, you can choose from a vast range of alcoholic drinks. Boringly, I stick to water and try to get on with what I shall loosely call 'work' for The Independent. Mains power at every seat, WiFi from the digital stone-age. (To be fair, I have flown on other Emirates flights with much better connectivity). 1.30pm: For anyone pretending to work, the in-flight entertainment is distracting. The screen is bigger in business class than economy – but that is because it's further away. Live TV from BBC News and CNN; more films than you could watch in a lifetime of flying; and in audio, all the UK No 1 hits in each year from 1952 onwards. My scientific analysis reveals the best year in music history for chart-toppers was 1969. They included: I Heard it Through the Grapevine Israelites Get Back Honky Tonk Women Bad Moon Rising Je t'aime … Moi non plus – banned by the BBC for its racy content. Emirates, like other airlines, sometimes tones down films. But Jane Birkin's gasps are there in solid mono for everyone to hear. 2.20pm: All that tea and water means it's time to visit the 'lavs', as they are touchingly known in the aviation world. Ultra-clean, with fresh flowers, Voya perfumes labelled Man and Woman, toothbrushes and combs. 2.30pm: Having managed at least several minutes of work, time for a nap. The seats are described as 'angled lie-flat'. In my book, 'flat' means horizontal. But on the plane I was on, Emirates' business class seats decline to recline any closer than 14 degrees to the horizon. Perhaps because of the rather exhausting prelude to the flight, I sleep deeply. 5pm: Yet another benefit of business class is about to reveal itself. The excellent cabin crew asked earlier in the flight if I wanted to be woken for 'light bites' – a snack, not a ritual. I declined, and woke just 45 minutes before touchdown – long after the meal service. But they fetched me some beef with rice. It tasted jet-lagged, with fatty meat and tired rice – not the crew's fault, mind. I also had a glass of Shiraz, my only alcohol of the trip. 5.45pm: Touchdown in Melbourne. With a short taxi to the gate, the door opens five minutes later, and the premium passengers can leave. The small delay added to my time pressure. But thanks to Australia's super-speedy passport control system (look for a kiosk as soon as you get off the plane and follow the simple instructions), I made it from inside a 777 to inside a taxi in nine minutes. Conclusion: A fascinating experience. But since many of the elements (great staff, fabulous entertainment, lots of food and drink) are common to economy, I will be happy to return to the back of the plane – knowing that life in front of the curtain isn't that much better.
