Happy 90th Birthday Aer Lingus

This year, our national airline, Aer Lingus, marks it’s 90^th birthday. As part of the celebrations, the airline released a special anniversary ad on its Instagram account. It began by taking the opening of one of the truly memorable TV ads of the 1980s. Entitled ‘You’re Home’ it begins with footage of ground crews on the tarmac preparing an aircraft for departure to the tune of Ennio Morricone’s ‘Gabriels Oboe’. I stopped scrolling and watched and as I did, sank into nostalgia and the past.

Back in the early 1980s I worked for the Tour Operator JWT and so I got to travel more than the average 19-year-old of the time. Although unlike young people today, who head off to the far side of the world, my travel was to sun destinations in Europe. But along with holidays, we were often sent on what we called ‘educationals;’ trips to the resorts so we could familiarise ourselves with the hotels and apartments. Many of these trips were memorable for a myriad of reasons. But one in particular strikes me now as almost unbelievable. And that was because I flew home in the cockpit of a DC-8. Yep, just the captain, the co-pilot and yours truly.

In those days cockpits were far more accessible than they are now. On holiday charter flights, children were often invited to visit the flight deck and meet the captain. The open-door policy also meant that if you were travel staff and needed a seat on a flight that was fully booked, you could apply for the jump seat – a fold out seat in the middle of the cockpit.

I had been in the Canary Islands looking at accommodation over a weekend and was to return from Las Palmas in Gran Canaria on a flight that was operated by the Spanish charter airline, Spantax. And yes, I know, now that sounds like a brand of shapewear.. but this was back long before magic knickers had been invented.

The flight was full and so I requested the jump seat. You had to be granted permission to fly in the cockpit by the captain and this was usually done by arriving a little early at the airport where you would be taken to meet him briefly. However, in this case I had to present myself for inspection at the crew hotel the previous evening. Permission was granted and I was all set.

However, this was the last night of a very busy few days, and the local agent decided she should complete my ‘educational’ weekend by sampling some of the night life. The evening ended in the wee hours, having churros and chocolate for breakfast.

I finally arrived back at my hotel with enough time to shower, change and pack my bag in time for the taxi which I had ordered to take me to the airport. I was ready a little ahead of schedule and so sat on the bed to wait. And yes, I fell asleep.

The reception phoned when my taxi driver came in to wonder where his fare was. I heard nothing. I finally woke when they sent someone up to hammer on the door. By now I was extremely late. When I got to the airport, the flight was already fully boarded. I was rushed like a Hollywood star through the departure area and out into a car to take me across the tarmac to the waiting aircraft.

I was told to leave my case at the foot of the steps and that it would be loaded into the hold immediately. I boarded feeling rather flustered and was led into the cockpit. I can only imagine what was going through 253 passengers’ heads. “Who the hell is your woman that we have all been waiting for? And is she actually going to fly the plane… cos she looks a bit hungover to me.”

I took my seat and we taxied out to begin our flight to Dublin. For the next four and a half hours no one spoke to me, I got nothing to eat or drink, and the seat was very hard. But the views were incredible. I will never forget seeing the coastline of Portugal as we headed north over the Atlantic.

As we descended into Dublin, the lads got out their maps to check runway information. That unnerved me enough to keep looking over their shoulders, in case I might be of help.

Oh, such innocent times. Although I didn’t fly in the cockpit of an Aer Lingus flight, Spantax did bring me home. They forgot my bag though. It was left behind on the tarmac and didn’t make it back to Dublin for another week. But when it did arrive, guess who it was that brought it home? Happy Birthday Aer Lingus