The worst of times

There is not a lot of choice when it comes to domestic journeys by air out of Bahawalpur — it’s the national carrier or nothing. I average a two-way flight about every five weeks, so a regular rather than a frequent flyer. It is a variable experience in terms of quality, from cancelled at the last minute as the check-in is approached and the SMS announces that I am going nowhere that night — to a flawless end-to-end trip that leaves bang on schedule, arrives early, and has the baggage in my hand 15 minutes after landing. The staff at the airport, once famous for its roses, are friendly and welcoming and the place itself, including the all-important toilets, is spotlessly clean.

So… the luggage. Cut to last Monday and my flight to Karachi. Left a few minutes late but arrived on time and we were on the transfer bus before 9pm — and then it all went pear-shaped. Baggage reclaim was the usual scrum and we duly stood and waited for the bags from the Bahawalpur flight. And waited. And waited. After 30 minutes and no signs of movement from the carousel several people drifted off to ask anybody who looked vaguely connected to an information desk, passenger facilitation or any other entity that might be able to tell us where the bags were. Blank looks. Shrugs. Zip. Nada. Zilch.

It’s amazing what a press card can do. A man who looked like he was in charge of a computer monitor took one look at my photo ID, the name of this newspaper and my distinctly peeved appearance and Things Started To Happen. Quickly ushered into the baggage handling office it was all apologies and yes we are terribly sorry but there is errr… a problem. What problem? Err… a problem. Maybe soon. Laying about me with the razor-sharp axe I carry with me for such eventualities I chopped up all the staff in the baggage office and went on to massacre their families (OK… I made up the bit about the families) and then stopped in my murderous tracks, stopped by a vision in a dark uniform with lots of gold braid. Wading through gore and body parts I shook hands with the man who had piloted the flight down from Bahawalpur. Not only could he fly a plane, he had answers.

It turns out that there was a problem with pilferage by baggage handlers who transferred the luggage from plane to carousel, so a security officer had been engaged to monitor the baggage handlers. No luggage moved unless under the eye of the security officer. And he hadn’t shown up. All efforts by the baggage management staff (sadly now in pieces) to find out where he was, who his superior might be and whether reconstructive surgery was a part of their employment package were in vain. There was another set of equally aggrieved passengers in a similar plight and things were looking distinctly twitchy when there was a bit of a rumble, the carousel started to move, bags appeared and the temperature dropped perceptibly. The Great Baggage Riot never cooked off.

As I wheeled my trolley away the full-of-answers pilot came up, apologised again sincerely and profusely, shook my hand and wished me bon-voyage.

Your apologies are gratefully accepted Captain Nameless, but it was not your fault. You got me from A-B in one piece thus fulfilling your end of the contract. Where it all went to worms was on the ground. Nobody had any information or indeed the slightest intention of getting the said information that would tell a couple of hundred people why it was they waited almost 90 minutes for their bags. There was no announcement, no apology and nothing that remotely resembled ‘customer service’ as it is understood in the 21^st century. This is the link in the chain with the national carrier that has broken for me time after time after time. Unexplained delays, flight cancellations at the shortest of notice — I was not exaggerating about the SMS at check-in — and missing luggage that turns up days later. Try harder. Thank you. No airport staff were harmed in the writing of this piece. Well not much. OK a bit…

Published in The Express Tribune, March 16^th, 2017.

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