One chilly Auckland morning, fog had delayed our passenger trip to Wellington from where we were due to operate a DC-8 service to Sydney. Regular announcements had kept everybody advised of the situation. By 10 o’clock the fog had cleared and we were lining up with other passengers in the check-in queue.
“Just the one bag is there, Guy? Boarding will be in ten minutes from gate two, have a nice flight.” Check-in clerk Jill Taylor handed me my boarding pass with a lovely smile. “Next passenger plea—”
“I’ve got to get to Wellington on this flight,” an impatient passenger pushed ahead of 40 others, who were queuing patiently. Those queuing recognised a rather unpleasant local MP some had christened Prince Charming.
“Certainly, sir. We’re checking the Wellington passengers now, so if you’d like to go to the back of the far—”
“I’m a VIP. Haven’t got time for that, I’m due at a cabinet meeting with the Prime Minist—”
“No problem, sir, we’ll have you checked in. If you wouldn’t mind going to the back of the far queue over there—”
“I’m in a hurry, so get on with it before I run out of time and patience. Come on, get a move on!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but others are also waiting, so if you could go to the back of the far—”
“Are you deaf ? I’m in a hurry,” Prince Charming insisted.
“So are these people behind you, sir,” Jill explained.
“Look! Do you know who I am?” he snarled above the mutterings of others waiting.
“That doesn’t make any difference, I’m afraid. These people are also waiting and you’re holding everyone up. Go to the back of the far queue please, sir.”
“I’m in a hurry, you stupid bitch! Don’t you know who I am?”
He beat at the counter. Jill, having tried reasoning, initiated emergency plan B.
Switching on her public address microphone, she said, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please? I have an important announcement.”
All noise in the busy terminal stopped as attention was directed to the speaker.
“We have a male passenger here who doesn’t know who he is.”
Silence turned to laughter.
“If anybody recognises him at counter three, could they kindly call and identify him?”
Bullies hate ridicule and Prince Charming was no exception. He spun on his heels to join the far queue to the accompaniment of the other passengers indicating their approval of his decision.
“Far queue, sir. Far queue, far queue,” they chorused above the sound of quiet clapping. “Far queue, far queue, far—”
He hadn’t finished yet. Turning to face his opponent, he informed Jill, “Fuck you too!”
“You’ll still have to queue for that,” one passenger advised him above loud laughter.
An hour later, when we landed at Wellington airport, Prince Charming was first to disembark because our check-in staff had kindly allocated him the seat nearest the exit in order to expedite his onward journey to his cabinet meeting.
Ground staff don’t like being walked over, but they never let rude customers like this one diminish their airline’s high standard of service.
Taken with kind permission from the recently published unreliable memoir Another Day Like Yesterday by Guy Clapshaw (Catch Phrase Media NZ Ltd, $40).
