Empty seats beside you? They're about to be filled by flyers with a little extra avoirdupois, writes Éanna Brophy
THEY ARE USUALLY the last to arrive on the aircraft. You see them coming sweating down the aisle, dragging or wheeling their huge carry-on bags behind them - and, more often than not, heaving their huge stomachs before them. And you know with a sinking feeling that they are heading for the empty seats in your row.
Not only that, but you know that the lockers above your seat are already stuffed to bursting point with your own modest, weight-compliant bag, along with those of other law-abiding passengers. This does not faze the new arrivals.
Sometimes it's a frequent-travelling golden-years couple, dressed in identikit shades of beige and sporting hair "styles" chopped by the same barber (or gardener). Or it could be a middle-aged pair (he's there for the golf, she for the shopping); both are red-faced and of equal bulk, and each is toting a medium-sized wardrobe.
But whatever their age (and they come in all categories) they clearly dote on each other. Or at least they are oblivious to the presence of anyone else on board. Which is why they feel free to reach up into the overhead lockers and proceed briskly to rearrange the baggage carefully deposited there.
The ominous splintering of delicate china souvenirs is heard as Joe and Joan go about the business of shoving their own vastly overweight cargo in on top of yours. Having filled one locker, they will sometimes proceed to adjacent ones, or even those halfway down the aircraft, to deposit the remainder (the one containing the kitchen sink).
If you happen to be sitting in an aisle seat - chosen so that you will not inconvenience other passengers if you need the loo - you may experience the added enjoyment of having the stomach of either Joe or Joan pressed intimately against your face as they scrabble about above your head. Or if they're facing the other side you could find yourself, so to speak, cheek to cheek. It's very hard to concentrate on the Crosaire while this is going on.
Whether you're travelling with Ryanair or Aer Lingus, the cabin-baggage regulations seem to be enforced very arbitrarily - that is, you're the one who gets stopped or challenged when you're a few grams over the limit while every other passenger seems to be given the blind eye, or even a wink and a nod. The cabin-baggage limit for Aer Lingus is six kilos; Ryanair's is a more generous 10. Both airlines give strict measurements for this baggage: 56cm by 45cm by 25cm for Aer Lingus and 55cm by 40cm by 20cm for Ryanair. In both cases - sorry, perhaps one should say instances - there is little relation to the risible reality of what's brought on board by an awful lot of passengers.
But what of the tricky question of personal avoirdupois? You, of course, are no doubt svelte and trim, so why is it that you are the one who, travelling light for a weekend abroad, finds yourself confronted at the check-in desk by an officious minion who insists on weighing your holdall and declares it to be above the limit. It's almost as embarrassing as being randomly breathalysed.
Even if you get away with a finger-wagging caution, as you make your way to the waiting aircraft you cannot help noticing that every other person in the queue is of Michelin Man obesity - and the women even more so. You half-expect the pilot to look out of his flight-deck window and refuse to take off with this shambling horde aboard.
So you progress slowly down the aisle, patiently waiting while those before you sort out their seats and stow away their stuff. Often, the cabin crew will assist them in the stuffing of the overhead lockers: they never seem too worried about the weight - no doubt because they're eager to get the flight finished with as little hassle as possible. Or, if it's Ryanair, possibly impatient to get on with the really important business of selling scratch cards.
You finally reach your seat and settle in, turning on the ventilation, sitting back - not too far back if you're on Ryanair - and letting your feeling of injustice abate. You notice that there are two empty seats beside you and look forward to the luxury of that extra space.
That's when you see them. Heading straight for you. Again. Elephants. With trunks. And you vow that next time it will be Irish Ferries or Stena Line. Except that they don't do Malaga.
Too big for your seat? Prepare to pay twice
Southwest Airlines, the US carrier that Ryanair set out to emulate, has long had a policy for what it terms "customers of size". If you can't fit between two armrests, you have to book a second seat in advance. If the flight isn't full, you get a refund.
Air France's preferred euphemism is "people with a high body mass". They too must book two seats, with the second one coming with a pretty slim discount of 25 per cent.
Sound discriminatory? Possibly not, given that at least one airline has been successfully sued by a woman who was crushed by the obese passenger in the seat next to her. The UK claimant spent a flight to Los Angeles squashed beside a passenger who had lifted the armrest to fit into her economy seat.
Such was the extent of the encroachment that when she arrived in the US the claimant had to be hospitalised with a blood clot in her chest and torn leg muscles, the result of having to support her fellow flyer's weight for 11 hours. Two years later she was still unable to walk without a stick. She sued the airline, Virgin Atlantic, for more than $20,000 (€14,650).
Airlines are looking at other costs related to overweight passengers, too. According to one study, the average US passenger gained four and a half kilos during the 1990s, resulting in a requirement for an extra 350m gallons of aviation fuel.
A quick ring around of airlines here indicates that policies such as those of Southwest are already in force.
When I asked an Aer Lingus salesman about the procedure for booking a flight for a clinically obese passenger he put me straight through to what he called the medical department, aka Special Assistance. Here I was told that if the passenger will not fit into a seat - an average 45cm wide for a European flight - a second seat must be purchased, at full price.
Ditto at British Airways, where a very helpful man said he'd see what he could do to "make me comfy", then came back apologising that I'd have to pay for two seats - "but only one set of taxes".
The girl at Aer Arann sounded positively alarmed. She also said I would have to book direct with the airline and not through a travel agent, "for health-and-safety reasons". No discounts on second seats here, either.
If you are booking a seat and are worried about size restrictions, call the airline in advance to find out about any passenger-size regulations.
It may suit you to request for an aisle seat and ask the airline to leave the adjoining seat empty if the flight does not fill up. Flying at off-peak times, such as midweek, will help your chances.
Alternatively, check out individual airline websites, or www.seatguru.com, to see what the average airline seat dimensions are.
If your bank balance is as generously proportioned as you are, consider flying business or premium-economy class, where seats are significantly wider. The food is better, too.
Sandra O'Connell