اجلمعة2015فبراير 20

Why One Kind Gesture from Lufthansa Sealed This Woman's

Loyalty for Life

In the spirit of New Years' Resolutions, we chose to be filled with love and light when it comes to airlines. So instead of focusing on the terrible TSA theater, the crappy meals served in-flight, the nickel-and-diming onboard, the exasperated attitudes at the gate or the rampant idiocy in the baggage claim, we're focusing on airlines and flight attendants doing it right. This week, longtime Jaunted contributor Julia Buckley tells us how, if you're traveling with special needs, she has nothing but love for Lufthansa. I am a frequent flier. I also have a chronic pain condition. It isn’t

an easy combination.

Longhaul flights are horrendous for me, for obvious reasons, but

even shorthaul is a struggle – from dealing with luggage to being

confined in a seat with no space to stretch and other passengers

knocking into bits and pieces of me that are viciously hyper-

sensitive. Even a flight of under an hour, if it’s a bad one, can put

me out of commission for days afterwards.

I’m very careful when I fly to choose the best possible seat for my

condition, book assistance, and do everything possible to make

things as pain-free as they can be. Part of that is asking, wherever

possible, if there’s a seat on the plane that has an empty space

next to it. Some airlines, like UK regional airline Flybe, are

compassionate, and block out an entire row, if it’s available.

Others, like my national carrier British Airways, tell me to go

swivel.

In January, I flew with Lufthansa for the first time – from Zagreb to

Heathrow, via Munich. The Zagreb-Munich flight was operated by

Air Dolomiti, and it was amazing – great legroom, wide seats,

lovely cabin crew, and a half empty plane to spread out in.

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(continue)

Assistance at Munich was also excellent. Nevertheless, just taking

the first flight had ramped up my pain levels.

For the Munich-London flight, I was traveling with a friend, and we

had booked an A and a C seat, in the hope that the B would

remain empty and I could spread out. It was not to be – at check-

in in Zagreb (as an aside - if you need special assistance when

traveling, never, EVER fly via Zagreb), we were told the plane was

overbooked.

At the gate, I asked again whether there was any seat on the plane

with an empty middle seat, and again was told no, it was full. I

thought I would try – just try – to mention it to the cabin crew, in

case there were no-shows.

I must have been visibly in pain when I pre-boarded and spoke to

the purser (he was called Guggenmos, I think). I know it’s a full

flight, I said, but if anyone doesn’t show and it frees up a seat, I

would love some extra space. “There are seven free seats on this

flight,” he said immediately. “So let’s try and do something. What

exactly do you need?”

I explained that with a bad right arm, I needed my right side to be

untouched. Currently, I was in the aisle, in a C seat, but that risked

it being bumped by people walking by. Ideally, I said, I’d be in an A

seat, with the B seat free, and my friend in the C seat.

“Oh!” he chirped. “You’re traveling with a friend? This should be

easy.”

There were seven middle seats available, he explained. He didn’t

see why the person in 31B, with us, wouldn’t mind moving to, say,

24B, or 14B, or 7B. “If you can wait till we close the doors, I will

sort this,” he said.

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(continue) Everyone boarded, including 31B. The doors were closed. The

purser was nowhere to be seen. “Cabin crew, seats for take-

off,” the pilot said. I closed my eyes, and tried to meditate

through the pain. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

As we were starting to taxi, the purser had come over to fulfill

his promise. He explained the situation to my neighbor and

asked whether he might be prepared to move, once the

seatbelt signs were off. Turns out, mine was the kind of plane

neighbor you can only dream of. He agreed to move

immediately, and asked if I was ok. The minute we’d reached

cruising altitude, he leapt up, and very kindly moved. He even

wished me a pleasant flight. I swapped to 31A and my friend

took 31C. Without tensing it to keep it out of the aisle, my arm

immediately started to feel better.

A couple of minutes later, the purser was back to see how I

was doing, and to ask if he could do anything else (I said

upgrade my former neighbor – he promised he would “give

him something”, which I hope was a seat in business class).

He checked in again with the drinks trolley. And again before

landing. In the two years that I've been flying with special assistance, nobody on any airline has ever shown me this much kindness. I told him this as we disembarked at Heathrow. “But it’s our

job to make you comfortable!” he said. “As long as there is a

spare seat, we will do everything we can to help you. It is our

job.”

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(continue)

I’m not sure it’s actually their job to move passengers around

to accommodate someone in pain. I do know that no cabin

crew on any other airline, ever, has done anything of the kind

for me (and I ask the question every time I fly). I know, of

course, that they have no obligation to put themselves – and

fellow passengers – out, by doing this for me. But I also know

that this one small gesture of kindness has made me want to

fly everywhere with Lufthansa, always and forever.

Kindness is something that usually falls by the wayside in the

airline industry. I understand that: people are stressed, flights

are full, why should I take a minute to block a seat or see if

people might be prepared to play musical chairs, to help one

silly passenger who says her arm hurts? Equally, if you’re the

guy sitting next to me – this is your seat. Why should you

move?

But a little humanity goes a long, long way. Lufthansa, and

Lufthansa passengers – you are a class act.

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