In a shocking display of consumer action that absolutely won't lead to any long-term systemic change, Ryanair has performed a screeching U-turn on its policy of charging families to sit together. The airline, previously run with the ruthless efficiency of a Dickensian orphanage, has announced that from next month, adults travelling with children under 12 can now select adjacent seats at no extra cost. Call the Vatican, we have a miracle.
Let us not pretend this is an act of generosity from Michael O'Leary's tight-fisted empire. No, this is a retreat born from the relentless howl of middle-class parents who were forced to pay £20 extra to ensure their toddler wasn't strapped into seat 37F while they languished in 14A. This is a victory for the beleaguered British consumer, armed with nothing but their Twitter accounts and a seething sense of injustice. We have stared into the abyss of low-cost air travel, and the abyss blinked first.
The new policy, announced with the sort of fanfare usually reserved for a royal christening, states that families will be automatically allocated seats together at check-in, or they can choose them for free at booking. This follows months of furious campaigning, including a petition signed by 40,000 people who had clearly never rung the customer service line. The Civil Aviation Authority growled menacingly, and Ryanair realised that even their fleet of lawyers couldn't magic away the bad publicity.
Of course, this being Ryanair, the victory is laced with cautionary tales. The free seating allocation only applies if seats are available; if the flight is full, you might still be separated, and your child will have to make friends with a stranger in the window seat. Also, the policy doesn't apply to online travel agents, because why make things easy? But for now, let us raise a lukewarm cup of overpriced airport tea to the triumph of the little people.
What does this tell us about the state of modern Britain? It tells us that we will tolerate endless indignities: the baggage fees, the check-in queues, the desperate scramble for overhead locker space. But threaten to separate a parent from a child, and we find our spine. We are a nation that will accept the slow erosion of public services, but we draw the line at a toddler crying for a stranger to hold their hand during take-off.
This is a hollow victory, of course. Ryanair will simply absorb the cost elsewhere - perhaps by charging more for priority boarding or by reducing the legroom on their already sadistically small seats. But for one glorious moment, the British consumer stood up and said, "No more." And the corporate overlords listened. Or at least, they made a small gesture that costs them very little but makes everyone feel marginally better.
So go forth, British parents, and book your summer holidays with a swagger. You have stared down the no-frills dragon and emerged singed but victorious. Just remember to wear comfortable shoes for the mile-long walk to the departure gate. Some battles are won; others are ongoing.
