3 months ago
27
November 12, 2025 — 5:00am
The last time I parted with the additional hundred or so bucks for an upgrade to an extra legroom aisle economy seat on an overnight international flight, a kindly flight attendant felt compelled to apologise to me.
It was the morning after the night before, en route from Frankfurt to Singapore. With no seat in front of me, she expressed her regret for the repeated occasions my outstretched feet were (inadvertently) kicked, knocked and stomped on, mostly in the dark, by the procession of passengers (and, it must be said, the occasional flight attendant) en route to the adjacent toilet, in the queue waiting to use it, or both.
More fool me for upgrading to a seat not only right next to the loos, but also the galley (somehow I managed to sleep through the clinking plates and cutlery).
But, really, the airline industry’s now routine and ruthless extraction of revenue from all manner of pay-to-sit permutations is so out of control it’s become risible. “Consumer choice”, they call it.
Not only are airlines more class-obsessed these days than an exclusive English boarding school, it’s reached the point that an economy passenger will require a GPS to navigate aircraft seat maps on booking, let alone a mathematics degree to decipher the various frequent flyer point entitlements, or the lack of them.
That’s really how complex flying has become for those searching for a better seat, and, crucially, like me, a willingness to fork out for it.
Qantas added more complexity last week when it announced it would introduce a new “Economy Plus” seating offer, a la the rival Virgin Australia equivalent “Economy X”, next year. Economy Plus will provide paying customers with up to 40 per cent more legroom, priority boarding and, here’s a relatively new one, exclusive access to overhead baggage bins.
Signs will warn other, non-Economy Plus passengers to stow their own carry-on elsewhere on the plane but, as Vanessa Hudson, Qantas chief executive declared, “we’re always looking for ways to enhance the onboard experience and maximise comfort for our customers.”
Forgive me, but what she really meant was that Qantas’ ever creative accountants, like those of other airlines, are forever exploring ways to extract yet more revenue, and for that matter, loyalty, from their passengers and from every single seat, business and first classes included.
In news reports, various travel industry figures applauded the initiative, oblivious to the bigger picture absurdity of it all.
These days, after all, you can pay for the privilege of an exit row seat, but also an empty, neighbourless one beside you. But, wait, as it gets even more ludicrous.
It was recently reported, in what at first appeared to be some kind of out there AI hallucination, that WestJet, Canada’s second-largest airline, has introduced an additional fee for seats that recline.
Not even Alan Joyce, the man who created Australia’s own Jetstar, thought of that one, or at least dared to introduce it.
Jetstar, in fact, is the carrier that helped pioneer the Great Airline Ancillary Revenue Filch (thanks, Alan), which can include charges for everything from Wi-FI (including when it doesn’t work), and even “blanket kits” these days. Even in the toughest prisons they presumably don’t deny inmates something as basic as a blanket.
Surely, one of the most truly demeaning sights in travel is that of the overwrought Jetstar employees pushing wheeled scales weighing hapless passengers’ overweight baggage in the departure lounge in the relentless hunt for more bucks. You can, of course, prevent this ritual, gotcha humiliation by purchasing extra baggage kilos when you book your ticket (don’t forget the blankies).
Despite the assault on my feet (lucky I left my boots on throughout that 12-hour or so flight), weirdly, I don’t really regret paying the extra dough for the exit row seat as it was still superior to the one I was originally allocated.
Once airlines used to operate flying machines. Now every plane is a cynical revenue machine and, perhaps worst of all, many of us, myself included, in our search for extra comfort and a modicum of sanity on those long-haul flights, are willing accomplices to the conspiracy, and, gosh, don’t the airlines know it.
A seat is no longer a seat but, hey, please do watch my feet.
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