There's nothing like being left waiting at a chilly airport to make you appreciate Air NZ.
JetStar. JetDUNCE, more like. Please do not ever let me book on JetStar again, people. Martin Devlin, chook, I feel your pain.
Oh, shush already, I get that it is great that competition has made Air New Zealand up its game. We love competition. But when you are stuck in Queenstown with two small children, as I was this week, and Jetstar does not seem to give a flying toss (I did want to use another word there) that you need to get home, purity of economic policy does not feature highly on your priorities.
That is when you ponder the fact that travel is not a commodity like buying chewing gum or bubble bath. Travelling somewhere is a contract that leaves you nudely vulnerable if the transport provider reneges on their end of the bargain. When you are stuck in a freezer-type situation with two hungry, scratchy, tired skippies, you are inclined to feel that travelling punters need some protection.
When I rang Jetstar after our flight out of Queenstown was cancelled, their response from a call centre in a place where they don't speak very good English obviously went according to a script for morons. It was like talking to a thick computer. I could have my money back. There was no compensation. Jetstar seemed to have no concept of helping out the passengers they had stranded.