Marquel, TPVs NYTimes Blame Game Section correspondent, was learning Morse Code, got bored and read As Anger Rises Over Crash, Malaysian Government Is Reluctant to Assign Blame. Officials have so far avoided joining the United States and many other countries in openly attributing the disaster to the Russian government.
Marquel was amazed that Malaysian Airlines, after two crashes in four months and hundreds of fatalities, had any intention of flying again. But here they were, playing the blame game adeptly and refusing to blame what appears to be the certain cause of the latest crash, Russia.
It is amazing that the airline appears to intend to continue. Who would fly on such an airline. There was no way of knowing what inscrutable calculations were going on in the heads of Malaysian Air officials without talking to them. So Marquel stopped by the Waldorf Astoria hotel where he heard one or two of the officials was staying while conferring with US aircraft experts.
Tham Minh, the director of operations, offered to talk to me. So I showed up bright and early at the Waldorf hoping he was about to order breakfast. I love the Waldorf’s breakfasts, especially the coffee.
I hope I’m not disturbing you at this hour,” I said.
“Not at all,” he answered with a little bow, “I was just ordering breakfast.”
Jackpot! I celebrated. He asked, “Would you like some too?”
Calculated gamble. “Oh no,” I said, “I don’t want to trouble you.” Anxious pause.
“No problem at all,” he insisted. “Eggs? Juice?”
“Two eggs fried over medium, white toast, extra bacon, home fries, orange juice and coffee would be perfect,” I said.
“Okay,” he said as he repeated my order into the phone.
When all that was done, we sat down to talk.
“I noticed,” I started, “that you seem reluctant to blame the obvious culprit, Russia. Why is that?”
“Well after our first crash we were criticized for assigning blame too early so we thought it important to avoid that this time. We also don’t want to alienate an important country of future clients.”
“Russia?” I asked. “Why would they be natural clients? I’m surprised you’re even thinking of continuing business.”
“I was thinking the same. We cannot be an ordinary airline any more. We will offer lower rates to countries whose airlines have worse safety records than ours.” He said.
“What countries are those?” I asked.
There’s really only two, Russia and China. They crash all the time. It’s a gamble to fly on them.” He said.
“Same with you,” I remarked.
“I agree,” he said, “but our position will be, if you’re taking a risk flying, at least fly the cheapest. That will be us.”
“Are there enough scared Russians and Chinese to fill your planes?” I asked.
“Not profitably,” he admitted, “but close.”
“So what are you planning on doing?” I asked as the door buzzed. He opened the door and room service wheeled in a table covered with dishes. There was my juice, eggs, potatoes, toast, butter and jam, and coffee with milk and cream. I sat down. There was also a melon segment. That was his meal, apparently.
I repeated my question while dipping my golden toast into the perfect yolks. I sipped some coffee. He took a spoonful of melon.
“We are planning to target our policies to specific audiences.,” he said.
“Like whom?” I wondered.
“First,” he said, “the terminally ill. We think they will find our policies attractive.”
“Are there enough of them?” I questioned.
“Not by themselves,” he admitted, “but they become an important segment.”
“Who else?” I asked.
“The suicidal.” He said.
“You can’t be serious,” I remarked, “that will chase away the others!”
“We intend to be subtle in our advertising.” He said, “to avoid that very problem. But if we can get them we feel they will be very profitable repeat customers.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Because we certainly don’t expect or plan on any more crashes. If they fly on us waiting to crash, I think they’ll be taking many flights before that happens, if ever, and we intend never.”
“That sounds like good planning,” I said, cleaning up the rest of my eggs and home fries. He had another melon spoonful. “Anything else planned?”
“We think there might be good business flying passengers with phobias.” He asserted, “some therapists use a shock treatment sending the patients up in the air until they lose their fear. We would be the best candidate for a shock treatment, we think.”
I was sipping my coffee thinking this over while he had his last piece of melon. “How much would it cost me to fly to Paris for the weekend?” I asked.
“Do you dare?” He asked.
“Depends on the price,” I answered.
“Five hundred dollars,” he answered, “and you pay only under our ‘got home safely plan.”
“What’s that?” I questioned.
“The ‘got home safely plan’ is our basic payment plan. You don’t pay until you get home safely.”
‘Sounds good to me,” I said, and thinking that was not only bizarre, but logical. All airlines should do that. But next time I go to Paris, I know I’m not paying till I get home.
Safely.
****
BY MARQUEL: Home Sweet Home
