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Cheap air travel is bloody brilliant until the teeny-tiniest thing goes wrong

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Cheap air travel is bloody brilliant until the teeny-tiniest thing goes wrong

The Aer Lingus strike has really highlighted how cheap air travel is bloody brilliant, right up to the moment the teeny-tiniest thing goes wrong.

Yes, back in the 80s, and before the Ryanair revolution, if you wanted to fly to, say, New York, you had to sell a kidney to get there.




Really, kids today have no idea just how rare and expensive air travel was back in the day.

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My own childhood featured dreaded trips on “the ferry” to England because flying was for rich folk. And we’re not talking the almost cruise-ship like levels of comfort you get on passenger ferries today.

Back then, the old B&I were operating vessels between Dublin and Liverpool that felt like they had started out on Arctic Convoy duty in 1942, dodging U-Boats. There were winter crossings made in the 1980s to Holyhead when it felt like you should have a little group of musicians playing Abide With Me on the deck while people fought to get into the lifeboats.

I can still remember the sounds of several hundred poor souls getting violently sick in the ferry’s canteen. But when Aer Lingus said they were going to get you away, or back home, in the good old days, they meant it. Problem with a plane? They’d find another in a couple of hours.

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