I heard about Cheapo Airlines through word-of-mouth. A student friend of a friend told my friend about Cheapo. Students always know the cheapest ways to get around so I decided to risk it. It worked for him, so why not me? After I arrived home I discovered that the student had actually travelled to that same overseas destination on a full price airline, not Cheapo. But he had heard that Cheapo was cheap and so he recommended it.
I booked my return flight online and tried to print out my boarding pass. No go, only error messages. Warning bells started to ring in my mind.
After some tedious searching on the Cheapo website I found a customer chat line and I exchanged messages about the problem with customer service person Po.
I consoled myself that here was a real person who claimed to work for the airline.
But she came across as rather robotic. Her language was strangely stilted.
“No print boarding pass problem solved on return” typed Po.
On return of what? My ticket? My money? My flight?
Po cryptically informed me that passengers could only print boarding passes if they were located in the same city as the airline headquarters. This was because of “technical reasons”.
At least that is my translation of her virtual speak. It all sounded a bit suspicious to me. Was I being conned by a computer? Robbed by a robot?
Did the airline really exist at all or was it just a website with an automated chatting function?
I arrived at the airport several hours early so I could sort things out. This was a rare overseas trip to see family and I didn’t want to have it messed up.
I went to the automated baggage check in and entered my booking number. The machine printed out my luggage tag and I attached this to my bag and sent it on its way along the baggage belt. I waved a sad farewell to the bag uncertain if I would ever see it again.
Did my travel insurance cover baggage loss caused by non-existent airlines? Did Cheapo actually have an automated baggage system or would my bag be sent to some random place like Venezuela?
Next I went with the horde of departing passengers through the outward immigration check. The official looked at my form and read the airline name I had written.
“Cheapo Airlines eh? Never heard of that one. Good luck.”
“Wait a minute” I thought. “Shouldn’t these immigration guys have heard of all the airlines?”
I gulped and said “it’s very new – I think.”
He just raised his eyebrows and stamped my form. I stumbled on towards the supposed departure lounge for Cheapo flight CH1, clutching my precious piece of paper with my booking number on it, my only piece of evidence that Cheapo existed and that I had paid them to fly me somewhere.
I followed the arrows on the hand printed signs saying “Cheapo departures.” But then my path was blocked by the duty-free shopping area. Desperately I sidestepped displays of souvenirs, racks of designer clothes and shelves of beeping flashing electronic gadgets and little toy airliners. Was this their game? To maroon me in the desert island of duty-free so that I forgot about flying? Or did they take a cut from the stall holders?
Just past the toys I saw another Cheapo sign pointing down a dark corridor. I plodded on despondently, still worried that I had been hoodwinked. At the end of the corridor, past the toilets, was a departure lounge. There was no one there apart from an older guy (that is even older than me) lying down asleep on the seats with a newspaper covering his face.
“Maybe he’s dead” I thought. “Like Cheapo.”
Either that or he had been waiting so long for a Cheapo flight that he had simply lost the will to live and was now in a coma.
I wandered around the lonely lounge, had a coffee, visited the toilet, had another coffee, checked to see if the comatose guy was breathing or not.
Then I had a eureka moment. If this airline existed, they must have real planes somewhere near here. I stumbled over to the window and there, just pulling into the terminal, was a flesh and blood airliner. Yes, it had “Cheapo” painted in gaudy letters on the side. Some uniformed Cheapo staff arrived soon after and so did some other passengers. The old guy in a coma came back to life and we all boarded the plane. Cheapo was real.
I still had lots of questions though. The plane was only half full. Would they only fly us half way?
Why was every second passenger carrying containers of takeaway food? What did they know that I didn’t? The answer to this last question was simple – they didn’t want to starve. Somehow they had heard that the Cheapo cabin meals were very expensive and very small. In fact the containers only held about two mouthfuls. The cabin crew spent most of the flight pushing food trolleys up and down the aisles offering to sell food and drink to passengers. The Cheapo business model became clear: cheap fares, expensive “extras”. Everything was an extra including access to the wireless network to see movies on “your own device.” No video screens in the seat backs on Cheapo. Bring your own. Cheaper for Cheapo. The staff also wandered around selling lottery tickets to passengers. The prize was an upgrade to business class. This was a good money spinner for them. Most passengers seem willing to try to gamble their way out of Cheapo economy class.
The flight crew had their own issues. After take-off the pilot introduced himself as Captain Taylor flying with First Officer Swift. Ha ha.
He then announced
“I hope you enjoy your flight to Sydney.”
We were all expecting to fly to Singapore. There was a sharp intake of collective breaths.
The pilot paused for a long time and then announced
“Just kidding. We are heading for Singapore. If anyone knows which direction it’s in, please notify one of the cabin crew.” Ha ha.
Some of the passengers started to sob.
Cheapo delivered me safely to my destination so I shouldn’t complain.
On the return journey, I again arrived very early at the airport, just in case. I found the Cheapo check-in counter in an obscure corner and put my bags on the baggage belt. This time there was a check-in assistant. As far as I could tell she was not a robot, but she didn’t actually say anything. She just pointed to a hand printed sign that gave details of “early check-in fees.” Another extra I had to pay for- arriving early. How inconvenient for Cheapo.
The passenger in the seat in front of me thrashed around like a live fish in a bucket. It was very difficult to eat my two teaspoonful meal with the tray table jiggling up and down like a cork in the ocean.
Eventually he decided to try to sleep. He had three seats to himself and decided the most comfortable position was to put his head on the aisle seat and his feet on the cabin window at an angle of about 45 degrees. This did not work well for him and then he reverted to thrashing around like a fish.
I called one of the cabin crew for help but he just giggled and shrugged. Very Cheapo.
At the airport the baggage collection carousel was a new experience for me. It was located outdoors in a section of the car park. The asphalt retained its “no standing” signs so no one knew where to stand and wait for their bags. We all waited and waited. I half expected the Cheapo staff to come around asking for a baggage delivery fee but they didn’t come. Nor did the bags. Eventually, our bags wooshed up through the chute onto the carousel. I could see some of the cabin staff doing the wooshing. Perhaps Cheapo had refused to pay the local baggage handlers. Very Cheapo. But I did get my bag and I did arrive home safely.
