They play Enya on board and they can't get their cabin crew sorted; nevertheless, I find it hard to bear a grudge against the carrier that regularly whisks me off to my happy place. After all, wasn't it one of these very airbuses that shuttled me off on my first transatlantic flight?
It's hard to believe in this health-conscious age that not very long ago -- well, sort of long ago -- a 19-year-old American teenager who'd spent half her college career unable to wedge her way into any sort of bar, club, or drinking establishment could suddenly, once these wheels left the runway, not only legally partake of a bottle of screw-top wine of questionable quality but also light up a cigarette whilst doing so. Yes, planes back then actually had smoking sections. I'd be loathe to go back to those ashtray conditions if they were ever re-introduced, but to me in my Joy Division "Love Will Tear Us Apart" t-shirt and companion Kate in grin and flannel, it was just one big airborne vice bus carrying us off to greener pastures, and it makes me nostalgic just looking at this little slanted shamrock, remembering what used to be.