I sit in the glorious air-conditioning of the shopping mall here in Malta. It used to be that you had to buy a coffee to earn the right to sit down, but they have redesigned the place and provided plenty of free seating. It is a courtesy to the public that is greatly appreciated. Mind you, the refurbishment must have cost a pretty penny, and you get the impression that all the shops are trying to recoup the expense by doubling the price of their goods. They have 50% sales on, but to be fair, a shirt priced at €162 after being reduced from its original eye-watering price is hardly an irresistible bargain. However, I did see a man emerge from an Armani shop carrying almost ten shirts in his arms, so clearly the strategy works for some!
As I watch the people around me, most seem, like me, to be browsing, examining the merchandise with interest, then moving on without buying anything. The air-conditioning, however, works its magic, and almost everyone looks remarkably relaxed as they wander around.
It is a far cry from the experience at the airport on my last Ryanair flight from Belfast to Malta. It is amazing how long passengers have to wait before the departure gate finally appears on the overhead screens. Then, with barely five minutes to spare before boarding, the gate number flashes up. Everyone rushes to get where they need to be, and it seems particularly unfair on the older passengers among us, who suddenly find themselves in a stressful race down long corridors, burdened with heavy bags. Then they are made to stand in steep stairwells, knees aching and backs protesting, crushed together like tomatoes in a tube of paste before being squeezed onto packed shuttle buses. Finally, one boards the aircraft only to discover, with dismay, that a large drunken stag party is already on board, shouting insults and swearing loudly at one another.
The cabin crew urged everyone to take their seats for take-off, but there was already a queue of at least six young men waiting to use the toilet. As the queue grew to a dozen, a flight attendant repeatedly asked them to return to their seats. Eventually, the captain announced—quite reasonably—that he wished to depart and everyone had to sit down immediately. They obeyed reluctantly, but the man in the seat in front of me took it as a personal affront that others had managed to use the toilet while he had not. He loudly informed his two friends that he was bursting to go and that the whole situation was grossly unfair. Later he complained to a passing flight attendant that the crew had been "f***ing rude" to him. I really do feel sorry for those who have to deal with drunken passengers on flights. It cannot be an easy job.
When the plane landed in Malta, several passengers immediately leapt to their feet and began pulling suitcases from the overhead lockers while the aircraft was still taxiing. Once again, the captain had to order everyone back into their seats until the plane had come to a complete stop. One wonders what dealing with such behaviour, day after day, does to airline staff.
This week, however, I was pleasantly surprised by an altogether different experience. My teenage grandson came to visit us and accidentally left his phone on the aircraft after disembarking. Three days later I took him to the airport's Lost and Found office, and, to our delight, his phone had been handed in. When he switched it on, he discovered that someone had taken a photograph with it. There, smiling back from the screen, were two flight attendants in uniform, waving cheerfully and giving enthusiastic thumbs-up signs. They had obviously found the phone and decided to leave him a little surprise.
Such unexpected sweetness amidst the challenges of their working day. It never ceases to amaze me when I encounter good humour and kindness in people whose jobs expose them to so much impatience, abuse and discourtesy. I like to think of it as a quiet form of excellence—the conscious decision to remain gracious despite being surrounded by rudeness. Those two young women will probably never know how much their small act of kindness restored my faith in human nature.
