Aviation at its most civil

When was the last time you had a truly civilised aviation experience? I’m not talking about having your expectations slightly surpassed because the dispatchers managed to get the doors of your Embraer E-jet closed on time or your luggage was the first to tumble on to the carousel; I’m thinking more about being properly floored by a set of experiences that restored your faith in flight. Was it back in the days when your company still owned and operated three Dassault Falcons that you could occasionally hitch a ride on? Was it when Concorde still zoomed across the Atlantic and you’d cheat time and your own internal body clock to arrive in New York before you left London? Or were you happiest when airport security meant nothing more than a quick wave of a handheld metal detector and you could carry on as much as your frame could manage?

After nearly a decade of security measures that range from the sensible to the completely absurd, service cutbacks, the rise of the low-cost carriers and dazzling innovations by aggressive operators in the Middle East and Asia, civil aviation is, for the most part, anything but. At best, the simple process of getting from Chicago to Vancouver or Perth to Singapore is going to be little more than adequate and more likely to leave you thankful that an airline crew has managed to deliver the basics – and frustrated that there was no added value to make you feel better about the $3,500 you spent on a ticket.

Most airline chief executives are engaged in a daily battle to cut costs and have few entries in the diary that remind them that they’re in the service industry – indeed, many of them have no experience of making customers, suppliers and staff feel good about being close to their brand and have little interest in learning the fine art of service. It’s little surprise that this attitude eventually trickles down to the people manning the frontlines for an airline. Some clever consultants have recognised the pitfalls of human interface and have done everything in their power to pull staff away from the customer. Online check-in, automated bag-drop, self-serve pantries on board 747s and web-based lost-luggage tracking mean there’s never a risk of having to deal with a crew member who woke up on the wrong side of the bed or is grumpy about having pulled the Lagos flight when they were hoping for Buenos Aires. In the case of some airlines, this lack of a “personal touch” has perhaps done wonders for their business, but others have missed a trick by forgetting they’re in a business that should be built on human relationships.

Fast Lane’s favourite carrier, ANA (All Nippon Airways), seems to understand that complex problems sometimes need manpower thrown at them, not an IT solution. When I first started flying with them out of Heathrow to Narita, I was constantly amazed how quickly they managed to get bags from the belly of a 777 to the baggage carousel – and in the right order. First class and diplomatic bags are always out first, business next and so on. I asked how they were able to manage this with such a small staff and only one flight a day into the airport. The manager smiled and said: “We have dedicated staff at the aircraft to make sure we speed up the process and it’s turned into a feature that our passengers love. It also creates an important lasting impression of our brand.”

On departure from São Paulo the week before last, one random act of human kindness completely changed my impression of an airline, and set me up for an outstanding week of travel. Having battled thunderstorms on the road from Rio de Janeiro, I pulled up at São Paulo’s Guarulhos international airport convinced I’d missed my flight to Zürich and on to Tokyo. Scurrying into the terminal, I looked up at the board, hoping that the storms might have delayed the flight, but a flashing light indicated the Zürich flight scheduled for a 19.30 departure was closing – it was 19.16. Slowing my pace to find the ticket desk, I’d given up on making the flight and started to consider my options for making it to Tokyo. Unfortunately the Swiss ticket office was closed and I was about to call my travel agent when I noticed a young woman with a red Swiss lanyard around her neck. “Excuse me, do you know when the ticket office reopens?” I asked.

“Ahhhh, are you on the Zürich flight?” she asked.

“Yes, I am,” I said hopefully.

“Come, come – let’s go over here,” she said, ushering me to an abandoned check-in area. “You’re going on to Tokyo?”

“Yes, but I have a checked bag,” I apologised.

“Don’t worry. Throw it up here and we’ll go the gate,” said the lady.

Five minutes later I was through security, in my seat, glass in hand – but what about my bag?

“Don’t worry, we don’t leave without your bag,” said the woman. “And remember, only in Brazil would we be so relaxed about things.”

The doors closed with a whoosh at 19.30 on the dot.

Tyler Brûlé is editor-in-chief of Monocle
tyler.brule@ft.com
More columns at www.ft.com/brule