{ Air Mauritius Review – AKA The Nickelback Of The Air }

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  • { Air Mauritius Review – AKA The Nickelback Of The Air }

**Disclaimer: I’m sorry for mentioning you, Nickelback. I actually like your music and I’m not really sure why the rest of the world disagrees, but a comparison needed to be made and I needed something that people as a whole tended to hate. Justin Bieber appeals too much to young girls and those make up my audience, so having the ‘Biebs in the title wouldn’t work. But in no way are you as bad as this airline and I’m actually quite sorry that you needed to be compared to it.**

Look at those serene colours…. They do not accurately describe this review.

You know how there’s the Seven Wonders Of The World? Right, well, I’m convinced that there is a disproportionate corresponding list for the things that aren’t quite as wonderful. Things that are, to be quite blunt, terrible.

And, go me, I just managed to find one of those things. Let’s call it one of the Levels of Hell on Earth.

Air Mauritius.

Air. Mauritius.

It even sounds- okay, fine, it sounds pretty unassuming. Like your typical airline. You know what Air Mauritius sounds like to me?

Deception. It’s all smoke and mirrors – and I see through your shroud of lies.

I should probably take a moment to insert a bit of reason and non-twelve-uncomfortable-cold-and-sleepless-hours-based bias into this review. Let’s get the objectivity in first, so that nobody can say I wasn’t fair.

  • The cabin crew were very nice. None of this is against them; they were very friendly and lovely people.
  • It was a safe journey.
  • I guess after the whole United drama, I should be happy that I kept my seat and all my blood inside my body.
  • I mean . . . I guess it could’ve always been worse. It’s just, without delving into real health and safety concerns, I’m not quite sure how.

Now, I had mixed feelings about writing this review, because I didn’t want to come off as a diva. I’m not a weekly traveller; I don’t buy business class seats and I don’t expect much from my flights. In fact, I don’t usually think about my flights much at all.

That. Being. Said.

If you’re on an plane for twelve hours and paying for an expensive flight, then . . . yeah, I think you’re entitled to a few basic things.

Like, say food. I don’t mean that you should have to be given food for free – but I’d expect a refreshments cart at least. Right? I mean, you’re spending half an entire day on a flight. You’d expect there to be facilities to buy food.

(Oh – and speaking of facilities. I didn’t actually need to discover this myself, but an annoyingly loud couple on the plane spent a good ten minutes complaining about the fact that the toilets didn’t work. I take a moment to remind you . . . twelve hours.)

(However, to keep this factual, there were a few things that would break then work again throughout the flight – for example, the movies would work for like 45 minutes then cut out and an hour later be fine – so the toilets may have been like that. I don’t know; like I said, it wasn’t a problem I had, so I’m not sure exactly what happened. It may not have been as bad as it sounds – they were one of those really annoying, complaining couples – and nobody else had problems.)

Back to food, though. Now, plane food is never great. Fine; not an issue. Is plane food always cold, though? Sometimes not even cooked properly?

Is that the standard for normal? Am I the odd one out here?

There were two meals and . . . well, the “cooking” was dubious at best. But fine – it’s plane food, right? I don’t expect anything different. What wasn’t there?

Anything. Else.

No snacks; no optional food to buy or whatever. Just drinks – and they were strange when it came down to serving drinks too. Instead of being able to buy a drink or have an entire bottle, you chose what you wanted . . . and they poured some into a little plastic cup. So you’d think “oh, cool, a little bottle of Sprite” and they’d pour some of a bottle into a tiny cup and that’s you served. Then they’d use that same bottle for other people – and pour the leftover drink in the bottle into another one. It’s not a massive complaint of mine, but my dad is really OCD about drinks and bottles and a nervous tic made an appearance.

So yeah. It was abundantly clear that we weren’t being kidnapped, fattened up and lead to a human-slaughterhouse for cannabilistic purposes. Which I guess is good.

Moving on.

Now, I could talk about the cramped seating conditions or the really annoying guy in front of my who kept rocking his chair’s back constantly  but those are pretty standard plane issues; I don’t mind them or blame the airline. (Although, if you are looking to travel in comfort . . . well, scratch AM off your list. I’ve never before sat in a chair so uncomfortable that my butt’s numbness has descended all the way down my left leg.)

But I’m not going to talk about them because, like I said, those are industry standard. What I am going to talk about . . .

The entertainment. Dear God. No, actually, it’s clear that God had nothing to do with this. Dear Lucifer. Dear Hades. Dear Hitler. (Too soon?   It’s always too soon for Hitler jokes Mia. Just look at what happened to Pewds )

I think we can all agree that the one shining light in the dismal prison that is a long-haul flight is the in-flight entertainment. New movies, a couple of interesting documentaries and even good old Big Bang Theory. Right?

Wrong.

On the way there, the media sets cut off 45 minutes into the journey, didn’t work for another hour or so and, when they were working, were so old and difficult to use that by the time you selected a new movie the whole set had crashed again. Not to mention the selection. There were literally 3 watchably good movies. Two of those being X-Men. And new releases? I mean, I got a whole 45 minutes into the Accountant, but that was the only one that looked even semi-interesting. So, no, it wasn’t great – but again, not a massive complaint.

On the way back?

Well, let me tell you, that first flight’s media set was out here looking like Netflix. On the way back, the already-tiny, off-colour screen had magically shrunk. Smaller than my iPod’s screen. But that’s not all.

Oh, how I wish that were all.

So on the first flight there was at least an interface. A menu. Some way to select programs. This time, however, there were all of 5 channels. And on each of those channels there was one movie playing – and not a pausable or rewindable movie, no, by the time you could use the media set it was already well into the film – and, even better, only 2 of those movies were in English. Now, wait for the big reveal, those movies were both for kids!

Tin-tin and Miss Peregrine’s School For Gifted Children.

Where. Is. Your. God. Now.

That being said, the plane didn’t crash. So there’s that.

**

Well, I hope you got some kind of sick, twisted pleasure listening to me slate Air Mauritius. If you do ever find yourself wanting to visit the beautiful island (highly recommend it), then . . . for your sake, I hope you choose a different airline. I’m still editing the vlog, so I think we’ll have a Blogging 101 post tomorrow and the Mauritius vlog up on Friday!

All the love,

Mia x

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Blog Comments

Twelve hours gave you all of that and a blog post. Hmm Air Mauritius delivers, I see. But on a less silly note, that does sound like I would take a baton to their heads. But since I am from Gandhi’s land, I shall spread the message of peace.

Aha that’s true – I got a flight AND a blog post out of it! Funny you mention a baton; on the way home, some guy decided to get REALLY drunk on the flight and was really rude and disruptive (all the flight attendants and a few of our party ganged up and started shouting at him – it was very entertaining) and when we landed they had to bring on police to take him away! Highlight of the flight!

Even better. One more post 😉 Drama is always welcome, tee hee hee.

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