If only airline policies extended to other inconveniences

Canada's airlines have downed the ante.

They've come up with their own bill of passenger rights to counter the one proposed by an MP. This is the equivalent of making up my own punishment as a kid when I did something bad, hoping that my somber tone and profligate use of sighs and adjectives would trick my mother into thinking that I really thought my self-imposed punishment was harsh.

But the airlines have some right to complain. The private members' bill could impose fines of $500 an hour on airlines who delay flights, and require them to provide food after 2 hours and shelter for overnight delays.

This sounds great, until you realize that most delays are caused by mechanical problems, not the whims of extravagant heiress' who send their chihuahuas on private flights to Cancun.

"Mais non! I will nat allow zat flight to Winnipeg! Gingerbread cakes wants to visit Iqualuit. Where is my silk moomoo?"

Once this legislation is passed, airlines will basically have incentives to
a) fly despite mechanical errors and/or rush the job
b) crash, thereby killing all the passengers they could owe thousands upon thousands of dollars to, depending on the size of the flight.
c) shaft all small flights, since the incentive would be to avoid paying gigantic fines.

Frankly, I have had more than my fair share of airline fuck-ups. But I've discovered one Canadian airline's secret - something they don't publicize, but honour without fail.

When I ask, the flight attendant gives me a noble nod. It's a code word not many people know. A word that inspires both joy and fear in the hearts of flight attendants around the globe. A word that I wield like a sword every time the airline asks me to sit on the tarmac for 3 hours, after delaying the flight 5 hours before that.

The word is gin.

They will provide it free of charge.

Not many people know the airline's current "Code of Ethics" but this is one chapter verse that I know: thou shalt provide pitiful passengers with free booze in the hopes they shall lay dormant for the rest of the flight.

And it works. On me at least. Half that little bottle of Beefeater and I am drooling on a stranger's shoulder, mumbling the words to La Cucaracha.

Imagine, on the other hand, if this were the policy with other inconveniences.

Bus late? Have a transfer and a Caesar.
Your library book recalled? Take a gin and aspirin.
Children screaming while you wait somewhere in line? Have this pitcher of wine.

Of course, you might really start to like inconveniences, but when they're inevitable, why not enjoy them?

That's what they said at Christmas.