This is a series of posts about Italy, Malta, and Spain that starts here.
I’ve already written some about Malta—all the planning it took to get there, the fact that the thing that sparked my interest in going there, the Hal Soflieni Hypogeum, turned out to be closed for renovation; waking up to the US election results, and visiting the immigration office to (half-jokingly) see if I could claim political asylum.
But before I leave Rome, check out this photo that’s now my login screen.
Up til now, the screens have all been nature scenes. I’ve been writing about Rome; does Microsoft somehow know that, and tailor its screen art to me? Why? The image isn’t for sale. I know the mega tech companies are harvesting my data all the time, but it’s creepy when it’s this blatant. When I begin to write about Malta, we’ll see if they throw up a photo from there. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.
I’ve also written about the adventure of booking a flight on Ryanair. I had never flown Ryanair that I remembered. I don’t have any problem with their business model—sell the cheapest flights; make profit on the extras. I was curious how the actual flight experience would be.
The first thing I noted was that the seats were roomier and cushier than on US airlines. What the ? I had expected them to be even more cramped, if that was possible. Maybe these flights were the exception, or maybe we were on ancient planes.
The main difference between a Ryanair flight and other flights I’ve been on is the advertising. There were ads on the seatback, in my face, and on the overhead bins—promoting—what else? Ryanair vacations.
Food and drink was for sale only, and then there was the cart with perfumes and watches and other luxury goods.
Who books a €50 cheapo flight on Ryanair, then buys a €200 1-ounce bottle of Dior Poison on board? No one, on any flight I’ve ever been on. But people must do it. This stuff is shilled by all airlines, but on other airlines it’s done once, half-heartedly, as though the flight attendants are embarrassed to do it. On Ryanair they walked up and down the aisles repeatedly throughout the flight and are very assertive. Maybe they’re on commission?
My flight from Rome to Catania was an hour late taking off. There was no explanation. After we took off the pilot said casually, “Sorry about that delay; it’ll put us into Catania about an hour and a half past schedule.”
My connection was tight. I flagged down a flight attendant and made what I thought was a reasonable request. I was mid-plane. Could they let me off first when we landed, so I could run to catch my next Ryanair flight? She looked puzzled, as though no one had ever asked anything like this before. She examined my boarding passes, then shook her head. “No, we can’t make a special exception for you.” As if I was trying to scam her.
“All Ryanair flights are separate, so you’ll have to claim your bag in Catania, check in again, and go through security again.”
“You’re going to miss your next flight no matter what.” She gave me an unsympathetic smile and abruptly walked away.
My heart started pounding and my thoughts racing withthe What Ifs? What if there wasn’t another flight to Malta that day? What if there was, but Ryanair didn’t take responsibility for me missing the first one and made me pay again? What if they charged me a million dollars? What if I never got to Malta? What if I never got to Spain to meet Lynn?
In the end, my second flight was also over an hour late so I had no trouble catching it.
It could have been worse. I could have been in this prison bus waiting to board that flight you never want to be on. It’s painted all black. Really? Was that necessary? Seems a little melodramatic and trite at the same time.