HostelBloggers

Getting to Stansted, the feeling of excitement at our imminent trip soon evaporated. There’s nothing that sucks the joy out of a journey like staring at those computer-designed carpets while you glumly sip a laughably priced coffee (seriously, you’ve almost got to admire the chutzpah) as you wait in a departure lounge for an early morning Ryanair flight. 

Incidentally, what were Ryanair thinking with their Vengaboys/Eurovision ‘Let’s Fly Ryanair’ jingle? Maybe it’s a sly marketing ploy to annoy people, thus reminding them that you get what you pay for, and reinforce their unapologetic ‘it may be pretty miserable, but at least it’s cheap and miserable’ brand? Who knows.

The flight itself was uneventful (apart from the usual barrage of chirpy lotto ticket announcements) until we started to come into land. The plane was slowly descending towards the runway, only for it to surge away again, almost as we were touching down. The pilot, in a rather cheerful way, explained away his aborted landing attempt, putting it down to “getting the approach wrong, and coming in too fast.” So that’s alright then.

Anyway, having finally touched down safely, a grey and mizzly Dublin stretched out before us…