This is a piece I did for a ski magazine a little while ago that sums up what I loathe about tour ops, their reps and the airport transfer:
"We're waiting for the
Manchester flight…." My heart sank as the full impact of those six words hit home.
We'd already been sitting on the transfer coach for an hour-and-a-half after clearing Turin airport with surprising ease.
This was only the second time we'd seen the tour operator's rep after arrival. You've met him, I'm sure…bright jacket, bright smile (but not bright in any other sense of the word). "When they get through, we'll get moving straight away," he added, cheerfully.
Two hours later - we still hadn't moved.
By taking a pre-dawn flight, I'd anticipated some snow action in the afternoon; after all the resort was only two hours from the airport. But that hope was melting away in the strong Italian sunshine.
It was the first time for some years that I'd taken a package ski trip. I prefer independent travel, generally avoiding the weekend to weekend crush.
As the minutes ticked by, I dreamt of an early flight to
Zurich, hopping straight on a train, and disembarking at
Grindelwald,
Engelberg or
Arosa just a few hours later.
I yearned for the personal service of a small operator, who bundle you onto their minibus and are on the road before the other reps have finished their second cappuccino.
I dreamt of the Teutonic efficiency of the Otztal Shuttle, and their website warning: "If you're not at the bus on time, it will leave without you."
Not all transfer delays, of course, are the operator's fault. We've all met the dozy holidaymaker, who lingers in the duty free. Or others, who spread themselves over the backseat of the Val D'Isere bus, but are actually going to Val Thorens; 'it said Val, didn't it?'
The tour operators would presumably argue they can keep holiday costs down by using the minimum number of transfers.
But I would say that these days, when there's no such thing as a cheap ski holiday, it's completely unreasonable to keep customers waiting in this fashion.
And the sting in my sorry tale? Yes, you've guessed it…there was no-one from the Manchester flight on our coach, anyway!
