The 20 annoying things the travel industry constantly gets wrong

The fail: Airport layouts

They say Passengers are promised an unrivalled “airport experience” that will propel them from check-in counter to departure gate in no time.

We say Do designers and consultants get paid for this terminal illness? Standard practice these days is to funnel passengers through meandering duty-free aisles right after we’ve only just recovered from security hassles. Hold your breath, or you might be poisoned by the perfume cloud. Meanwhile those in transit might be baffled at the difficulties of getting from one terminal to another. And on arrival, flow is hampered by high-tech passport booths dotting corridors like anti-invasion obstacles.

The fix Overhauls of old airports designed for far fewer passengers rarely work. If an expanded footprint is needed, vertical expansion is the answer. And is better signage really that hard?

The fail: Fine-dining degustation menus

They say Enter a world of exquisite taste and gastronomic delight on a “journey” of discovery created by the inventive mind of a revered chef.

Loading

We say Get out your French dictionary, prepare for supercilious sommeliers, and feel demoralised that the waiters are better dressed than you. Then tuck into an endless succession of tiny dishes with peculiar ingredients matched by an overload of salt, cholesterol and perplexing confetti of flower petals. Then mortgage your mother to pay for it all. You stagger away appreciating the food, culinary expertise and theatre, yet wonder whether you haven’t been conned.

The fix Menus written in plain English, wine lists reduced to 30 instead of 300 choices, and more laidback service. On our part, learn to relax: we aren’t the only ones in the room unused to this esoteric ritual.

The fail: Hotel room lighting controls

They say Control everything with ease, and choose your preferred ambient lighting to get you in the mood for romance or relaxation.

We say In the mood for rage, more like. The light panel has so many controls you need a pilot’s licence to operate it. Oops, that button opened the curtain rather than turned off the light. The bedside lamp doesn’t have a switch at all. Oh, there it is – across the far side of the room. At bedtime, you’re tormented by horrible blue night lights and gadgets that blink in the dark. The automatic wardrobe light never goes off, no matter how many times you jiggle the doors.

The fix Force designers to stay in their own rooms. Don’t give us control panels and iPads. Keep light switches – and for that matter TV controls – simple and old-fashioned.

The fail: Airline safety videos

They say The underlying message appears to be that you’ll find your oxygen mask in a Turkish bazaar or soccer-club changing room and that, during a plane crash, a carpet salesman or celebrity sports person will appear to rescue you.

Loading

We say Whoever encouraged the fad for entertaining safety videos – here’s looking at you, Virgin America and Air New Zealand – has a lot to answer for. Hobbits, cartoon and Lego characters, tap dancers and comedians aren’t safety experts: they’re distractions from important instructions. Safety procedures shouldn’t be marketing tools designed to promote airlines on social media. Some are so corny that passengers actually look away in embarrassment.

The fix Watch the flight attendant closely, read that safety card in your seat pocket and be sure to fasten your seatbelt when not moving around the cabin. Look for your nearest emergency exits. Careful forethought saves lives during emergencies, particularly during aircraft evacuations.

The fail: Afternoon tea on cruise ships

They say It’s a daily ritual, an indulgent tradition, and a sense of occasion. And who doesn’t need to bridge the gap between a buffet lunch and gargantuan dinner?

We say Afternoon tea is the last thing you need on a cruise ship, where you have every opportunity to stay well stuffed. But that doesn’t stop us tottering off to the observation lounge to be force-fed sandwiches, scones and pastries like French geese. We all regret it afterwards. Plus, the fake sense of formality and ceremony puts you on edge. The white gloves never fit the waiters, and the tootling classical quartet is often awful.

The fix Handcuffs? A bout of seasickness? There’s no fix, least of all self-control, which is presumably weakened by salty air. Tell yourself you’ll compensate with a mere three-course dinner.

The fail: Hotel bathrooms

They say Enjoy the luxury of your expansive en-suite, which promises happy hours of showering and splashing, and wonderful views through glass walls.

We say Where to start? Hotels lavish attention on decor and luxury amenities and completely overlook the basics, starting with somewhere to set your toiletries, and soft lighting so seeing your face in the mirror isn’t a shock. There’s seldom anywhere to hang towels – particularly annoying when notices hector us to reuse them. And what’s with wall phones beside toilets? This hangover from the status-symbol 1980s needs to go. As for the contemporary trend of see-through glass walls – please, no. Some things aren’t meant to be shared.

The fix A decent shelf, a generous towel rack that isn’t right over the toilet, some indirect LEDs lights, neutral-smelling toiletries and simple shower controls. Not hard, surely?

The fail: Wine tastings at cellar doors

They say Meet the expert, sip and spit, learn about terroir, stock up on wine, enjoy the sight of wooden barrels sitting in a dark cellar.

Loading

We say What the dickens is this modern travel trend for visiting grape farms? Every cellar door is the same – awkward and boring – and the wine is usually awful or oxidised. The talk about racy acidity, peach undertones and ripe cherries isn’t as sexy as it ought to be, and who needs their wine to taste like sea spray or old saddles? Mansplainers pontificate on matters oenological, and rowdy young folk think they’re in a bar. Everyone tries to slink off without buying anything.

The fix Don’t door-hop: two visits a day will suffice. Buy a random bottle, leg it into the vineyards, and enjoy a relaxing picnic.

The fail: The car-hire return process

They say Don’t worry about a thing: drop off your car and you’ll be on to your next adventure in no time. One company even calls it “Instant Return”.

We say Spend a half-hour driving around airport ring roads trying to find a petrol station so you can avoid ludicrous tank-filling charges. Spend the next half-hour finding the right car park and trying to navigate its too-narrow ramps. Park in the last remaining spot, distant from the rental desk. Try and convince the attendant to check over the car, because, you know, dropping off the keys is chancy when it comes to damage claims. And now you’re late: run for your flight.

The fix There isn’t one, so arrive early. Standing your ground will at least get you a sign-off and avoid later issues. Big international firms are generally more efficient.

The fail: Concierges

They say Your always-available, invaluable hotel or cruise-ship Jeeves will acquire tickets, make restaurant bookings, and provide inside advice on what to see and experience.

We say Nope. Your average concierge is a mere lobby-lurker whose recommendations come straight from TripAdvisor, and whose maps point you to the most obvious tourist sights. Recommended restaurants are almost always expensive. They’d rather you take a taxi than public transport – or the hop-on bus for which they have kick-back tickets galore. Genuine local advice is hard to come by. Concierges aren’t so much keen on informing you as relieving you of coinage.

The fix Do your own research on concierges’ recommendations. You’ll often get more local insight and reasonably priced meal recommendations from receptionists, breakfast staff or doormen.

The fail: Airline amenity bags

They say Nada. You’re simply presented with a bag as if it contains something magical, like frankincense or myrrh, to justify your flight cost.

We say Nothing more useful than a plastic comb, bendy bamboo toothbrush and tube socks so thin they’re transparent – all wrapped in eco-unfriendly plastic. But sure, business-class passengers might otherwise not be able to afford these luxuries for themselves. And why give out hand creams and perfumes from brands so distinctively whiffy they’ll appeal only to a few? Here’s a better idea: mints, hand sanitiser, a Sudoku book, pen for filling out customs forms, and universal adaptor. Now we’re talking.

The fix Say no to amenity bags. As if flying isn’t bad enough for the planet, they’re incredibly wasteful; even unopened ones get thrown away.

The fail: Participating in supposedly traditional activities

They say Learn a new skill. Take part in a delightful local experience. Acquire the esoteric knowledge of some ancient group.

We say Sure, we all secretly yearn to give yodelling, wife-carrying, sword-dancing and dumpling-making a go. We think we’d be great at chasing a cheese down a hill. Yet in two minutes we discover such skills take decades to master, and we’re lucky to avoid a dislocated hip. The enthusiasm runs out in 10 minutes. Worse, we then have to watch other lumbering tourists dancing or pot-throwing with misplaced energy. We start to wish we were somewhere else, and so do the hosts.

The fix Admire the fire-twirlers and yak herders doing their thing, but resist the urge to join in unless you happen to be Polynesian or Mongolian yourself.

The fail: Special “honeymoon” experiences

They say Treat yourselves to an intimate, romantic and unforgettable dinner on a sunset beach to celebrate that milestone anniversary.

Loading

We say You end up at a table lopsided in the sand, tented with white gauze but far from intimate, since diners on the whole restaurant terrace are looking right at you. The candlelight proves too dim to read the menu. Midges bite your legs and stray dogs sniff at your steak. Your partner chokes on a sprinkled rose petal. It all feels so contrived because it is. If you think romance is drummed up by paying a party organiser for Aladdin lamps and a pink pavlova, your relationship is doomed.

The fix The look of love is in the eyes, not the table decor. Keep it spontaneous because nothing kills romance more than a set-up.

The fail: Evening shows on cruise ships

They say You’ll be wowed and amazed by Broadway-style shows and guest performances by world-class singers, piano players and comedians.

We say Sorry, but regular guest entertainers on the cruise-ship circuit haven’t exactly risen to the dizzying peaks of their profession, so expect the style to be more RSL club than Broadway. Cruise ships’ own entertainment teams are – bless their enthusiasm – straight out of dance school, and their shows make Mamma Mia the movie seem sophisticated. Yes, many people seem to love evening ship entertainment, but you can’t help thinking it’s only because they have nowhere else to go.

The fix Don’t miss shows by local performers who board for one-off specials, which are usually terrific. Otherwise, a few cocktails might help you appreciate the dodgy magicians and comedians with same-same jokes about the breakfast buffet.

The fail: Bag-tracking devices

They say Tag your bag and give yourself peace of mind by knowing where your precious belongings are throughout your flight.

Loading

We say Post-pandemic, someone decided that the air travel experience wasn’t stressful enough and added to it by suggesting we track our suitcases, items we formerly never thought about until standing at the baggage carousel. Now we’re riddled with anxiety as we watch our belongings make detours to Detroit or Dakar. What’s the point? The cabin doors have been shut, the tracker shows your bag isn’t in the hold – what are you going to do except be distracted from your inflight enjoyment of Mission: Impossible?

The fix Don’t pack important, worry-worthy things in suitcases. Don’t use a tracker. Switch to an app that provides Zen zither music instead, and relax.

Five more epic travel fails

Hotel club lounges
There are exceptions – many in Asia – but club lounges are often disappointing, particularly in North America, where they might feature only blaring televisions and “coffee” machines. Who needs limp canapes, bad wine and a well-dressed receptionist judging your dubious sartorial style?

Observation decks
Long queues, packed lifts and mind-numbing statistics hardly get you in the mood for skyscraper views. Yes, you see urban sprawl all the way to some mountain, but soon your attention wanders. You’ve been overcharged for 10 minutes of pointless distraction.

Historic hotels
You imagine a hobbit house or romantic inn of cosy charm. You get an attic room, a bathroom you can’t stand up in, an antique chair seemingly designed by the Spanish Inquisition and all-night plumbing noises and clattering on cobblestones beneath your ill-fitting window.

Provincial museums
Sometimes so bad they can be good, but on the whole as exciting as a bowl of porridge. Hands up if you’re an aficionado of rusting muskets, mounted butterflies, old railway signs or dusty opium pipes. Ten minutes and we’re ready to escape.

Spas
Why people pay astonishing prices to lie uncomfortably on massage tables and get poked by strangers while listening to whale song is one of travel’s great mysteries. You could do it for free by conjuring up Enya on Spotify and slapping yourself with seaweed.

Agree? Disagree? Write to us as travellerletters@traveller.com.au and we’ll publish the best – or in this case, the worst responses. Also let us know what the travel industry does get right, in-between the fails. You can also post your comments below.