Budget Airlines? Don't Make Me Laugh

The fares may look cheap in the adverts, but by the time Ryanair and easyJet have done with you, you pay through the nose.

I bought tickets on easyJet a couple of months ago, for MamaDuck to spend a couple of weeks in England. Something came up recently, and we needed to bring forward her departure date a few days. No problem, says the easyJet website, it'll cost you €75. That's almost as much as the original return ticket cost, but the fare has risen since then, so you have to pay the difference.

Just out of curiosity, I checked Ryanair. Whenever I've done this previously, although the route exists in theory, there have never been any actual flights available. But lo! This time, lots of flights, and seemingly very cheap fares. So we decided that I would use the easyJet ticket, and we'd buy fresh tickets from Ryanair for MamaDuck. By the time we'd got to the end of the Ryanair booking it was €78 (with compulsory online check-in @ €5 each way, 1 hold bag @ €10 each way). Ho hum. We booked it anyway.

Yesterday I went onto easyJet.com to change the name on the original ticket. I had an idea this would cost €30. And so it did, each way. Plus another €55 to cover the difference in fare since we originally bought it and what the fare is now. This is blatant robbery, so I aborted the transaction. For a laugh, I checked easyJet's refund policy. You're right, they don't have one. Actually, I'm lying - the policy is that they don't give refunds. I'm lying again. They do give refunds in exceptional circumstances, but these are in the form of credits to your account (minus a 'reasonable' handling fee) and they have to be used within six months. So if anyone wants a cheap flight from Madrid to Liverpool and back, you can have my ticket for €200.

By now, though, I'm quick keen on going to England for a bit - it's been way too hot for far too long here in Madrid - so I've booked with Ryanair too.

New Spanish Words

I learnt two new words of Spanish today, cerradura = lock (lit 'close hard') and cerrajero = locksmith.

Why? I hear you ask. Well, MamaDuck's handbag was stolen today. It contained her phone, credit card, sunglasses, other stuff, and keys to the house. It also contained a few bits of paper that had our address on.

She reported the theft to the Police, got a report and set about cancelling the credit card and mobile account. Given that the thief not only had the keys, but also the address, I set about getting our front door lock changed, hence the new vocabulary. We now have a lovely new cylinder in our door (85 Euros including 5 keys and installation).

Amazingly, we've just had a visit from two nice young Policias, returning the handbag. All intact except for the credit card, the shades and the phone. So the thief got virtually nothing - the card was maxed-out and is now cancelled, the shades were scratched, the phone was a freebie from Vodafone. But we've shelled out 85 Euros for a new lock, wasted half a day chasing round fixing things, and will now have to buy new shades and a new phone.

I have to admit to being a little bit disappointed. I was planning to spend tomorrow here in the dark with the blinds down. When I heard the thief trying to get the key into the lock, I was going to rush him with the blunt end of our broom, push him down the stairs and nick his wallet. If necessary, the ironing board is strategically placed by the door for a more serious attempt at achieving unconsciousness. Failing that, I know where the sharp knives are.

I have to say, I have nothing but contempt for these people. What fucking planet are they on? Why do they think it's okay to take other people's property? I mentioned our unfortunate propensity for being robbed to an Ecuadorian lady once, and asked her what she thought. She shrugged, and said 'you are obviously Gringos, so you are rich, so it doesn't matter to you.' Hmm, can't deny the first point. Completely, utterly, galactically wrong on the second two.

This kind of crime is usually blamed on Romanians and Roma/Gypsies/Pikeys. We can tell you with the voice of more experience than most that Latinos are actually the ones to watch.*

*Racist generalisation, not all Latinos are thieves. Investments can go down as well as up. May contain nuts. Although Romanians and Roma need to be treated with extreme caution. Disagree? Sue me.

Almost

Mamaduck has a little theory about why people keep trying to rob us in Madrid. It's because I look a bit like Richard Branson, who is known the world over as not being short of a bob or two. But the idea that he might be found travelling on Madrid's wonderful Metro, or anywhere else without a huge entourage, stretches the imagination somewhat. Actually, maybe I can sue Branson and get him to stop lookin like me...

We have not been succesfully robbed for a few months now. We can spot the potential perps and see them off, or at least get a long way away from them.

But today I had an entirely new almost-robbery experience. I was at a cash-machine in Lavapiés. Lavapiés is not an area that I feel entirely comfortable in: it's populated by lots of Africans and Asians (you racist bastard Keefie), and while I love it to bits, I do seem to stand out as a rich white man (I wish). So I'm always very careful when I'm in that area.

I needed to get some cash, so I popped my bank card into the machine, gave it my PIN, and was just about to tell it that I wanted forty Euros, when a seemingly drug-crazed kid appeared out of nowhere, hit the screen and then retreated a bit. I immediately hit the 'cancel' button and retrieved my card. Because of the stupid location of this machine, in direct sunlight with no kind of shade, it was extremely difficult to see what the screen was saying, but I knew from the vibration of my phone in my pocket that a transaction of more than fifty Euros had been attempted.

I needed to check what the machine was saying, but this kid kept getting in the way. I pushed him away, I told him to fuck off, I even kicked his arse. Sadly I was only wearing espadrilles, so it barely registered with him. And then a bloke came up and whacked him one in the face. The kid staggered away. MamDuck returned from whatever it was she had been doing. She'd noticed the kid, and registered that he seemed to be hurting.

Feck.

I checked the message on my phone. It said I had just withdrawn 300 Euros.

Double-feck.

I put my card back into the machine and asked it for a mini-statement. The balance was 300 Euros less than it should have been.

Treble-feck.

I was shaking like a shaky-thing. No idea what to do. In the end we just got on the Metro and left Lavapiés. This was such a weird situation: I had been attacked, and possibly robbed. I didn't know whether the guy who smacked the kid had been his accomplice, or whether there had been a third party who had taken the money while I was distracted. I didn't even know whether the money had actually been dispensed. I thought it hadn't, but when you are in situations like this, it's very hard to tell what's going on.

Anyhoo, you'll be pleased to know, I've just checked my account on the Interweb. I still have that 300 Euros.

And I still lurve Madrid.

Getting Better at Not Being Robbed

What a great title, eh? But if you've been following the plot, you'll know that MamaDuck and I have been robbed a great deal more than you might consider to be reasonable since we moved to Madrid last August.

MamaDuck reports that she spotted a robbing crew on a Metro train a few weeks ago, and gave them such dirty looks that they had to move down the carriage to find a new victim.

Last week in a local pub, the friends I was with had not one, but two laptops with them. The bags were placed between my buddy and his girlfriend, but he went to the little boy's room, and when he came back he sat between the two laptop bags. The approaching robbing crew was spotted by his girlfriend: they were very clearly aiming for the bag on the outside. My buddy moved the laptop bag and the thieves made a swift exit.

Today we had a truly remarkable experience. We were having lunch in a very pleasant restaurant in Lavapiés. Just after the main courses arrived, a waitress ran up to MamaDuck and said she thought her bag had been stolen. Yes, indeed it had. For fuck's sake. She ran out of the restaurant. I followed after putting on my jacket (my jacket is now effectively my wallet: it would be just too ironic to run off chasing a thief, only to find my jacket had gone for a walk)

We ran down Calle Argumosa. Yelling, shouting. It was a fine day and there were many people sitting at tables on the street. Some of them got up and went for a run. We never saw the thief, and gave up the chase about halfway down the street. MamaDuck returned to the restaurant, I continued down the street a bit. And then a miracle happened. A man came up to me and presented me with MamaDuck's bag. Unbelievable! I walked back up the street, holding the bag high. Somebody said 'local hero!' and everybody started to clap as I walked past them. Lovely, it was. MamaDuck was somewhat stunned and amazed to get her bag, and its contents, back.

It's only a matter of time before we actually catch one of these worthless assholes in the act. Expect extreme violence. Possible jail time. Because we're not putting up with this shit no mo'.

A Peculiar Incident [Un Incidente Peculiar]

I think I might have narrowly avoided being robbed again this morning. Or perhaps my Central Madrid paranoia has scaled new heights.

I was walking toward Puerta del Sol when a young bloke came hurtling around a corner and ran straight towards me. He clearly wasn't dressed for jogging, and he really was going fast: as if he was running away from something. I was in two minds about whether to trip him or otherwise interfere with his progress, but in the end I just got out of his way. He had gone maybe five metres past me when two older blokes came running round the corner yelling (presumably) 'stop thief'. They ran past me but quite quickly gave up the chase.

I suspect these might have been the possible outcomes if I had got involved:
1) The thief would have beaten me to a pulp and run off.
2) The thief would have beaten me to a pulp, robbed me, and run off.
3) The pursuers would have congratulated me warmly and given me a reward.
4) The pursuers would have congratulated me warmly and robbed me.
5) I would have a heart attack and be robbed by everybody.
6) I would be arrested and charged with assault.

Ok, forget about the last one: we're not in the UK. But I think it's interesting that not one of the hundreds of people who saw this happen moved a muscle. Another scam avoided, methinks.