That Time Easyjet Ruined My Life

Sunday, 26 March 2017
Img Link. Because, *spoiler* I wasn't on the flight

I am a seasoned flyer. I fly roughly twice a year, and would label Scotland as my specialty after going to university there. I've got it nailed. I know the comfiest position to fall asleep in, where on the plane the best seats are for getting your food first and I shake my head disparagingly at the security guards whens someone tries to get through with a brand new bottle of Miss Dior in their hand luggage. I am a veteran flyer. Which leads me onto my story.

Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, because we never f*cking got there.

Let me give you some context.
Date: Week before Christmas, AKA, busier than PureGym in January.
Flight: London Gatwick to Aberdeen. AKA, my parent's house to Steven's parent's house.
Mood before journey: Prepared, excited and ready to go.
Mood after journey: Shite.

So as all good travelers do, we arrived at the airport a sweet 2hrs 10 mins early. Considering it wasn't an international flight, some could say this was a little bit obsessive. I admit, I break out in a sweat if I am any more than 30 seconds late for a booked journey, so perhaps 2 hrs and 10 is a bit excessive. 

We checked in our luggage and ourselves, and meandered around Duty Free trying on the expensive perfumes whilst avoiding the sales reps and buying sparkly Prosecco for Steven's mum. Standard traveling procedure, I'm sure you will all agree. Our gate was due to be announced at 5.20, so at 5.19 we went to the board. (Told you I was obsessive.) Lo and behold, our gate flashed up on the board : 55D. Fab. So within 3 minutes, we had power-walked over to our shiny gate, filled with hopes of boarding. There it was, gate 55D in all it's glory, with a big board that read: EASYJET, ABERDEEN.

We sat by the gate. At this point we realised it was pretty busy. By pretty busy, I mean busier than Harrods on December 23rd. We were also surrounded by Gates 55C, 55E and 55F, all of which were Easyjet flights. Did Easyjet mark out some queues or help customers assemble in an orderly fashion? Did they f*ck. So before you know it, the Crystal Maze of queues had formed with people weaving in and out of each other like some giant 3D Snakes and Ladders game. We remained sitting, and neither of us had headphones in or anything to read so we people watched and tried not to go mad at the amount of times Laura was called for her Isle of White trip. Bloody Laura, missing her flight. What a mongo, I laughed internally. Little did I know...

So finally an announcement on our flight is made: it's delayed. Fine. We continue to wait, bored out of our minds. But hey! Another announcement! Aberdeen is now boarding for all Speedy Passengers and anyone with a young child. Hurrah! It must be us next. We wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. Until I finally get off my ass fifteen minutes later and ask the girl when general boarding will begin. "Oh, that flight's just gone." She informs me. I assume she's speaking in parcel tongue because I surely must have misunderstood, so I go to inform Steven of her message. Next thing I know 8 of us are stood there arguing with this girl because, 'when did the sodding plane board?!'. We were sat right there, bright eyed and bushy-tailed waiting on the edge of our gum-covered seats for the boarding call! 

"Perhaps you didn't hear the call that we made" the girl patronisingly smiles at an elderly woman. At this stage I barge in like a pitbull in a fight-ring. "Don't you insinuate she didn't hear the call, all eight of us missed this non-existant call!" I defend. I realise we are a minority. I realise that somehow 100 people managed to get on this sodding flight and we didn't. But something is not right. She takes us through to an Easyjet customer service point, where I ask about our bags. They'll have to take them off the plane surely, or are they already on their way to Aberdeen? I can't go a day without my Maybelline mascara, I'll look like a death-eater! 

"Your bags are waiting for you, they never went on the flight", she assures us. Wait, what? We checked our bags in well over two hours ago and you're telling me you somehow knew I would miss the flight and didn't bother loading our bags? So all eight of us have our bags ready and waiting for us, which makes no sense at all. How did they rifle through 100+ bags in the plane cabin and have our eight pulled out and brought back into the airport within fifteen minutes? "I bet they overbooked the flight", someone mutters behind me. Something is definitely weird.

We're then taken right back through to the start of the airport where the most unhelpful and vile customer service rep is sat waiting for us. She gets up and goes out back whilst I am in the middle of a sentence without even excusing herself. "Hold my earrings!" I bark at Steven as I get ready to hike my leg over the counter to go find her and drag her back out. When she returns she informs me there is another flight in the morning, which she can rebook for us, of course it will be cheaper for us to do it ourselves on our phones. What? What the f*ck is the point of her then if we're just to book it ourselves on our phones?! We are of course being told that we are to pay for our new flight because we are all juveniles and a boarding call would have been made that we must have missed. We must be demented for hearing every call for every flight in a 5-mile vicinity except our own. 

So we book our new flight for the following morning, and offer to get the flight for the elderly couple who are being extorted for all their worth by the viper behind the counter because they don't have smartphones. We then have to book a hotel at the airport for the night.

And of course, the hotel was fully booked so I ended up in a disabled bedroom with a sodding seat in the shower so I could sit and contemplate my revenge whilst washing. 

I have never sweated from rage and injustice so much in my entire life, and did what all women of anger do: wrote a letter. I wrote a letter and sent it to all the big cheeses of Easyjet as well as the official customer complaints email. But OF COURSE they didn't reply. So I messaged them on social media where every response came from a different person and we to-and-frowed for two months where I was told about every possible type of call except the general boarding call. I was told about named passenger calls and I was told about the call made to get to the right gate and I was told about all these Ts and Cs - all the whilst Easyjet were ignoring my actual question: Was a general boarding call made following Speedy Boarding for all passengers waiting at the gate?

The final ruling was: there is no rule on whether or not they have to announce the flight is boarding once you're at the gate so they don't know what to do and can't offer a refund. Well, Easyjet, you can absolutely go do one, you orange sack of shite.

2 comments on "That Time Easyjet Ruined My Life"
  1. Well said. I don't think they will get airline of the year prize. I was also raging/disappointed sitting in Peterhead. I remember the ITV programme "Easyjet", most of the staff were getting paid to be rude to customers. Customer Service isn't in their vocabulary.

  2. I am furious for you! As someone who is a nervous flier and even more nervous in airports it is worrying to think this could happen.

    G is for Gingers xx


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