There is a story doing the rounds about a young man waiting in an airport departure lounge who spots an attractive woman in a cabin crew uniform. Determined to make her acquaintance, he decides to use an airline slogan as his chat-up line. Since he cannot decipher the airline's identity from her outfit, he starts off with Delta's "We love to fly and it shows". This draws a completely blank look, writes Deaglán de Bréadún

Undeterred, the check-in Casanova opts for, "Smooth as silk, eh?" borrowed from Thai Airways. This is equally unproductive. Suspecting she might be working for American Airlines, he tries: "There's something special in the air."

The woman's expression has by now changed from disinterest to anger. "Would you ever **** off!" she says. The scales fall from our hero's eyes. "Ah," he says. "One of the budget carriers."

A word of caution: this tale was probably made up by the PR department in a more traditional airline. Cabin crew on budget flights are generally courteous, in my experience. But the real problem now is that so many carriers are opting for the no-frills approach.

Cheaper fares are very welcome, of course, but was I the only one who felt a slight chill down the spine at reported claims that Aer Lingus was considering a proposal to require cabin staff to wear "tacky" T-shirts (or canary-yellow polo shirts) and jumpsuits?

This was allegedly part of a humiliation process aimed at pushing people out the door - though not, one presumes, mid-flight. Time was when the adoption of a new uniform by Aer Lingus staff was a significant cultural event. Along with Army officers and the Garda, smartly attired Aer Lingus employees became a symbol of nationhood. Our ancestors might have clawed their way on to famine ships, dressed in rags, but now we were putting our best foot forward.

The thought of our angels in emerald having to adopt the Saturday-at-the-supermarket look is dispiriting. More than humiliating for the employee, it would be humiliating also for the passengers. (Aer Lingus says no uniform change was envisaged, apart from the possible use of less-expensive material.)

But humiliation is becoming an inbuilt element of flying. No one questions the need for security in such difficult times but are security and consideration mutually exclusive? A small thing: as you approach the X-ray machine for your security check, wouldn't it be nice if there was a decent chair to sit on while you remove your shoes - or a proper place to rest your bag while you extract the laptop?

Personally speaking, I love flying but hate airports. This is not a rant about Dublin airport, for all its faults. There are worse places on the planet, and bottom of the pops for me would be Heathrow. Designed on a mammoth scale, getting around it involves far too much walking, especially with luggage in tow.

At least parts of Heathrow don't tend to fall on top of the passengers. Part of a terminal at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris collapsed last year, killing four people.

And another thing: hand-luggage: it's time for a crackdown. It seems to be a point of principle with some passengers never to let anything into the hold. "What's that you've got there, a Sherman tank? You'll never get that in the overhead bin." "Oh yes, I will."

Leg-room: this doesn't affect the toffs at the front of the plane, but the poor souls in economy have to contend with the prospect of thrombosis due to restricted blood-flow. Then there is that awful moment after the in-flight meal when the rugby player in front of you reclines his seat for an afternoon snooze - crash-bang on top of your knees.

Pilots who talk too much, or the ones who like giving technical information. Awaiting take-off from Stockholm, I heard the captain apologise for the delay and say if we didn't get snow out of the engine we could crash. Thank you for sharing that with us, Sven!

Seatbelts: essential for our safety but do we still need to be told how to fasten them? On Kulula, a South African equivalent of Ryanair I once heard a steward telling the passengers that if they needed to be told how to fasten their seatbelts, they shouldn't be let out on their own.

But still, it's great to be up there where the air is rare. Why should flying be just for the birds? The problems only start when you are back on the ground. It is clearly an unwritten law that the passengers most eager to disembark are always given seats at the back of the aircraft. They're always the ones who discard their seatbelts before the overhead light says it's safe to do so. They seem to have been flying with their hand-luggage on their knees, and stamp their tiny feet impatiently while the rest of us struggle to get our duty-free from the overhead bins.

But one last whinge about the luggage collection-point in Dublin airport. I can't call it the luggage "carousel" because that's a word I associate with carnivals and the happy, carefree days of youth.

But when I arrive home safely - in spite of turbulence, terrorism and all the other risks these days - and I want my bags fast, it would be nice if an occasional member of ground staff fussed over us.

"Are you all right there, can I give you a hand?" Now there's a thought, but it's never happened to me. I wouldn't even care if he or she was wearing a T-shirt and a jumpsuit.