The aircraft were neat and modern. The take-offs and landings were almost seamless, thanks to impeccable pilots. The stewardesses, dressed in elegantly dignified uniforms, were superbly attentive. What I liked the most about PAL, however, was the logo design stamped on their aircraft’s tails, bearing the tricolors of our glorious national flag. The whole experience kindled “Pinoy Pride” in my heart.
But PAL stood for something even bigger than my personal experience: it represented the “world-class” in us Filipinos. We may not have the world’s best airports, but at least, back then, PAL was second to none in quality and prestige. Thus, I always had a soft spot for PAL, even enjoying the excruciatingly long flight from Manila to Toronto, which turned into almost a day after a long layover in Vancouver.
Recent experiences have reminded me of PAL’s desperate need for reinvention. First came the long flight from the Persian Gulf to Manila in mid-2021: although few folks were vaccinated back then, the plane was packed with passengers at the height of a new wave of COVD-19 pandemic. In contrast, other airlines had instituted social distancing regimes.
And not only was our departure delayed, but we were also required to wear those ridiculously unscientific face shields on top of our facemasks. Throughout the flight, I practically skipped all meals and bathroom breaks. It was not fun at all. Then followed 14 days of mandatory quarantine.
The sentimental patriot in me, however, kept me from airing out any grievances. I knew that PAL, like many airlines, was struggling with a travel industry downturn. Few months later, Philippine Airlines Inc. filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy in New York. It didn’t take long, however, for PAL to return to solvency: it posted close to $300 million in operating income in 2022.
And yet, PAL services and aircraft were progressively unimpressive over the past year. After braving multiple delays in recent flights, my patience was really tested ahead of a scheduled return flight from Hanoi last week. Just as I was about to enter the aircraft, we were told that the aircraft needed some maintenance check-ups. After a long wait, we were told that the wait will be longer, hence we had to return to the terminal. After hours of waiting, now past 3 a.m., we were told that the flight was canceled altogether due to safety concerns.
Then came another long wait and tortuous bureaucratic processing before heading back to a hotel in Hanoi. It was not until 8 a.m. when I got to bed, just to wake up in the afternoon with no updates whatsoever. As the evening approached, I scrambled for options, reaching out to the sales office and even calling out the PAL Twitter account in a moment of total desperation. Too many important meetings, including with an ambassador, were canceled that day.
Before midnight, I finally managed to get an alternative flight, but not direct as in the original purchased ticket, just to learn dozens of other passengers were flown out of the country earlier on a seemingly arbitrary basis. A week after the delayed flight, the “compensation” package, which was more of a consolation prize, is yet to be processed.
In fairness, all the staff I reached out to at PAL were extremely kind. Clearly, they were at the receiving end of countless complaints. I felt for them, just as I felt for all those former PAL employees who rallied against alleged unfair corporate practices in the past.
We often complain about corruption and incompetence in our government institutions. But PAL’s sorry state is a stark reminder of how our governance crisis even extends to privately owned companies. If President Marcos truly wants to “reintroduce” the country to the world, maybe he should do something about the fact that neither our flag carrier nor our main airports—often the first point of physical contact with the Philippines—inspire much confidence among either tourists or investors. We need to help make PAL, Asia’s oldest, great again.
rheydarian@inquirer.com.ph