Why Philippine Airlines is not a pal

Calling Philippine Airlines friendly is calling a Pit bull sheep or calling the Big Bad Wolf good.
PAL, Asia’s first airline, is making efforts to resurrect its old glory after it was placed on receivership in 1998. To be truly successful in its bid PAL better does something about its customer service in general and enforce enhanced monitoring of its personnel especially in-flight crew.
Just a few months ago it launched a blitz announcing its 14-hour non-stop flight between Manila and Toronto. Considered as the Philippine’s flag carrier PAL’s foray to this part of North America is supported by the country’s Department of Tourism evidenced by huge advertising signs plastered on TTC buses plying the streets of Toronto.
My Indio blood surged with excitement to see this resurgence of a business which I believe is truly Filipino — or is it? Re-introducing itself to the international scene, recently with special focus on Canada, is not only timely with the daily increase of Filipinos overseas. Not just a few read this PAL move as endorsement of the current government’s relative success.
When I say relative I do not mean “kamag-anak” as Lucio Tan, current PAL owner, is no Aquino kamag-anak. But that’s another story.
While air travel originally began in early 1930s in the Philippines it was limited to transporting cargoes to the country’s 7, 100 scattered islands. Later, one company known as PATCO or Philippine Aerial Taxi Company with the same original purpose of freight delivery transformed itself into a passenger air company becoming Asia’s first in the industry.
The Company’s history has been both glorious and scandalous. Its early players included General Douglas D. MacArthur, who at that time was in charge of the United States Armed Forces in the Philippines getting ready for at that time was an eminent Japanese invasion.
The war happened, the Japanese came and went, MacArthur stayed as military advisor to the Quezon Commonwealth Government. He made Manila Hotel his home which to this day has its prime suite named the man. Well, this, too, is another story.
I have many stories to tell out of my recent visit to the Philippines, some heart throbbing — or heartthrobs for the sensual; for now, back to PAL and my experience with it.
The ticket price I thought was a steal what with the urgency of my need to fly, the reason for which I told you in my previous column. My electronic ticket confirmed my itinerary which included a return flight via PAL’s straight flight for 14 hours from Manila to Toronto.
Both my boarding passes, Toronto-Vancouver via Air Canada and Vancouver-Manila via PAL, showed window seats. At boarding time in Vancouver PAL changed my boarding pass and re-assigned me to a back seat wedged between two obese. I was told I could move to a seat upfront close to the emergency exit for fifty dollars if I wanted.
My comfort was worth more than the amount so I paid. I remained happy despite the disappointment of witnessing how a PAL ground crew berated a Filipina who had a little more than what is allowed as hand carried items. Imagine scolding a “bagong bayani” as OFWs are called? She who is part of the billions of pesos remitted to Philippine coffers?
On my return trip, I had to pay 20 US dollars or 850 Philippine pesos to upgrade my seat to what PAL calls a choice seat. When I said I will pay, the lady at the check-in counter said it’s actually 50 US dollars or 2,125 pesos. “I thought you said 850?” I asked. “Well, those are for the seats behind but if you want the forward seats you have to pay 50 dollars or the peso equivalent,” she said. I paid for the 850 as I just wanted that amount of comfort. In other words iyon lang ang pera ko.
While on board waiting for takeoff, a Canadian man with his Filipina wife started to argue with the crew that the seats assigned to them were not the ones they paid for. From the verbal exchange I gathered that the confusion was about between which seats were priced 20 dollars and which ones priced at 50 dollars. An obvious lack of clarity in messaging as I experienced it myself with the ground crew when I negotiated for mine.
As we started our descent toward Vancouver the flight attendants started collecting the headsets. Ms. Paras, my seatmate, an elderly lady from Pickering, carefully folded her blanket and handed it to the stewardess who just ignored her, not even a nod of acknowledgement, and no sign of the much ballyhooed hospitality. I put back my headset to its original plastic packaging thinking I was doing a favour.
Instead she snarled like a feline in heat and said, “headset lang po!” and refused to take it. I told her take it anyway and with ferocity she barked, “What’s your problem?” but took it anyway.
On hindsight, I thought I did the right thing of not taking her on in a verbal fight. I was content that the passengers around me were one in saying that she was rude and her behaviour was inappropriate. In fact Ms. Paras was more upset than me and vowed not to use PAL again as she travels twice a year. I sat and breathed as deep as I could.
Mixed messages were given us as to whether we could get off the plane in Vancouver while the plane was to be cleaned and refueled. Against the protest of a stewardess the passengers, almost in a riot, all deplaned and it was a right move since the stopover was almost two hours.
In fairness, the fresh set of crew from Vancouver to Toronto was professional and displayed admirable customer service. What remains in memory though is the ugly side of it all. The 14-hour flight direct to Toronto scheduled to arrive March 31 at 6:00 PM landed at 9:15 PM. A dozen of us had to file documents for more than an hour for missing baggage. Past midnight we were cleared by Customs and about to exit when a porter came running with our found luggage wet from the pouring rain. The airport staff tore off the documents we laboured to fill out.
As experienced by me and by others on separate international PAL flights told to me, PAL was no friend at all. It’s PAL’s choice to take note or ignore. It’s either we lose Lucio or he loses me and my friends — and I have plenty.