Enough of the quirky shtick - just get us there on time

(First published in The Dominion Post, September 20.)

IT’S ALMOST a condition of citizenship that we shouldn’t criticise Air New Zealand. The national airline has much the same sainted status as Dave Dobbyn, Sir Peter Jackson and (as of a couple of weeks ago) Dean Barker.

We are conditioned to take pride in Air New Zealand as the quirky little carrier that out-performs the big international players and delights passengers with its hard-case safety videos and idiosyncratic livery.

But right now, I’ve had Air New Zealand up to here. In fact I’m well on my way to developing a full-blown Air New Zealand phobia.

Just when I’d finally forgiven them for the occasion several years ago when they offloaded most of the baggage from my flight to Tonga because the plane was overweight, then casually informed us of this fact as we were approaching Nukualofa, a recent run of bad experiences has left me convinced the national carrier is often complacent and lackadaisical.

Every time I check in these days, I brace myself for a delay due to “engineering requirements” or any of the other euphemisms Air New Zealand routinely uses to gloss over its failure to get passengers to their destination on time.

A common excuse is “late arrival of the aircraft”, as if this were some force majeure over which the airline has no control.

(A novel announcement earlier this year, on a night-time flight into Masterton which had already been delayed leaving Auckland, was that the pilot couldn’t find our destination because he had lost his satellite signal.)

In several instances when my travel has been disrupted, matters have been made worse by a failure to keep passengers informed.

Most people accept that planes can be delayed for legitimate reasons, but they find it much harder to forgive an airline that can’t be bothered telling them what’s happening.

Neither can they excuse the offhand response of some airline staff to the predicament of people whose plans have been thrown into disarray, often resulting in inconvenience and expense – as happened to me recently when a trans-Tasman flight was delayed by several hours because of a mechanical fault, which meant I missed the last bus to Canberra and had to stay overnight in Sydney.

On that occasion, after the initial announcement of a delay, Air New Zealand ground staff in Wellington magically vanished rather than deal with passengers’ questions. We were later consoled with vouchers for $6 which we could redeem at a café where nothing remotely edible cost less than $7.

An almost comical example of communication failure occurred on my most recent arrival at Wellington Airport, when it was decided the southerly was too strong for baggage handlers to unload the plane. (Strong winds at Wellington? Who’d have thought?)

Air New Zealand’s inability to keep people informed was pitiful. What struck me was the patience, or perhaps I should say resignation, of the passengers milling around the stationary baggage carousel. Perhaps we’re like stoical Soviet-era Russians, so accustomed to second-rate service that we accept it without complaint.

You can’t help wondering whether Air New Zealand could afford to be so slap-happy if it didn’t enjoy a monopoly on most of its services.

ALL OF WHICH brings me to the national airline’s gimmicky safety video featuring Bear Grylls.

The first time you see it, it’s mildly diverting (that is, if you don’t mind Bear Grylls). By the second viewing, it’s already starting to grate. By the fifth or sixth time, you’re ready to run screaming for the emergency exit.

Air New Zealand is at risk of overplaying the cute, quirky shtick that has become part of its brand.

No doubt it keeps a lot of bright young advertising things in work, but I’m sure most travellers would opt for dependable service – such as planes that get them to their destination on time – over novelty safety videos featuring Hobbits and All Blacks.

Besides, isn’t there a risk passengers will be so distracted by the visual cleverness that the safety message will be lost?

AND SINCE I’m on the subject of air travel, there should be a special place in Hell for the architects who designed Wellington Airport’s supposedly edgy international terminal.

Most of the controversy over the building arose from its external appearance, which one critic likened to dog turds.  But it’s the interior that matters most, and Wellington’s international terminal is gloomy and uncomfortable – as you discover when you have hours to kill waiting for your delayed flight to Sydney.

Airport terminals should be designed for comfort and convenience. They should be bright and airy, as the best overseas terminals are. Architects who want to make a creative statement should stick to public toilets.

Creators of tosh should bow to Peters

(First published in The Dominion Post, June 28.)

SOME people are in the fortunate position of being able to write or say almost anything and get away with it.

Take art critics, for example. Most contemporary art is, almost by definition, incapable of being explained coherently. It follows that a critic can interpret it any way he or she chooses and sound authoritative, at least to the gullible.

Often the artists themselves have no idea what their works mean. Some of the more honest ones admit it.

The critic therefore has total freedom to decide what the artist’s creation represents – and if the critique is phrased in words whose exact meaning is impossible to pin down, so much the better.

Much the same applies to wine writers, some of whom are in danger of displacing art critics as the most infamous creators of pretentious tosh.

Because the flavour, aroma and texture of wine is subtle, nuanced and hard to capture in words, a wine writer can use outrageously fanciful descriptive terms and appear knowledgeable. I know, because I used to be one.

Then there’s Winston Peters. Even art critics and wine writers should bow to him as the acknowledged master of verbal flummery.

Words cease to have any meaning when they tumble out of Mr Peters’ mouth. The sounds that emerge resemble recogniseable language but they reveal nothing.

It follows that it’s usually pointless trying to get sense out of him. An interview with him is as futile as a dog chasing its tail. Yet journalists keep on trying, as John Campbell bravely did on Campbell Live a couple of weeks ago.

Campbell is a very accomplished broadcaster, but perhaps he needs to be gently reminded that Albert Einstein defined insanity as trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

* * *

THE FUNNIEST programme on television so far this year wasn’t a comedy. It was Bear Grylls tackling the wilderness of the central North Island.

I’ve often suspected Grylls was a bit of a fraud but could never be sure. He’s not a complete fraud, because he obviously possesses genuine survival skills and attempts dangerous feats that you and I wouldn’t.

But you’re always aware, watching him, that there’s a cameraman recording his stunts and sometimes probably taking even greater risks than Grylls does. And I’ve always wondered just how wild and inhospitable the terrain he tackles really is.

Now I know. It was hilarious watching Grylls indulging in heroics on the volcanic plateau as if it was one of the last untamed wildernesses on the planet – a place where his life was in danger with every step.

It wouldn’t have surprised me if most of the time, just out of the picture, there was a gaggle of Japanese tourists, a herd of inquisitive cows or an espresso caravan; possibly even a Four Square store and a busy highway.

Watching Grylls will never be quite the same again.

* * *

IT WAS good to see Peter Dunne looking defiant on TV3’s The Nation last weekend – or at least as defiant as a mild soul like Dunne is capable of looking.

Yes, he behaved stupidly, but it’s hard to disagree with Dunne’s statement that he experienced an extreme form of muckraking.

He could well attract a wave of sympathy after the hammering he’s taken. New Zealanders are fair-minded people and many would view the recent gang-up against him with distaste.

It’s a sad reflection on the state of politics that one of the least offensive people in Parliament should be the target of such malice. Apparently we don’t like such people and relish a chance to bring them down.

Many voters dislike him because they see him as an opportunist – an each-way man, bending with the political current. But there’s another way of looking at him.

I see him as being anchored firmly at the dead centre of New Zealand politics. It’s the two major parties, rather than Dunne, that wobble around ideologically as they scramble to capture that vital middle ground.

* * *

WHAT IS it about public transport that incites the quasi-religious fervour exhibited almost daily in the correspondence columns of this newspaper?

Maybe I’ve just unwittingly put my finger on it. There’s evidence that human beings are psychologically hard-wired to need belief systems. Organised religion once met that need, but it has been in decline for decades.

Perhaps the people who once embraced religion now find their purpose in proselytising for light rail, trams, trains or trolley buses. Certainly their advocacy is as ardent as that of the most pious Bible-basher.

Whatever the explanation, they are thunderously boring. If Wellington’s local government elections are going to be dominated by these single-issue obsessives, the entire populace will switch off.