Three things impressed me about my Air France flight from Paris CDG to London Heathrow on Friday night. The first was the price: booking just five hours before departure, I paid £98. That was £15 cheaper than easyJet to Luton, with the added bonus of a more generous free cabin baggage allowance and an onboard drink.
Second, checking out of the Schengen area at the airport was a breeze. All the EU entry-exit system kiosks for fingerprinting were switched off; I wonder if the French authorities are possibly anticipating a change of tack on the flawed digital borders scheme by Brussels? Instead, British, American and some other favoured “third-country nationals” are able to pass a quick face-check at the eGates and speed through.
Third, on board the Airbus A220 I was occupying an emergency exit row (which I regret to say did not entirely tally with my allocated seat). A member of cabin crew explained meticulously that I had an important role to play in the event of an emergency. He told me to check carefully it was safe to open the door and demonstrated how to wrestle with the equipment. Then he explained that a slide would pop out of the rear of the wing, which turns out to be an A220 special feature.
Everything else – from trying to reach the airport from central Paris to the unexplained delayed departure – was on a spectrum from disappointing to atrocious.
The journey to the airport was at the atrocious end. Normally Charles de Gaulle airport is connected from the city centre every 15 minutes or so by the RER suburban railway from Gare du Nord, taking around half an hour. (The airport express train from Gare de l’Est that was supposed to be ready for the 2024 Olympics may finally open next year.)
But just like the British, the French like to close important railway lines over long weekends. The 8 May Liberation Day public holiday provided an opportunity to sever the main connection to continental Europe’s busiest airport.
I got wind of the closure and came up with a plausible plan B: Metro line 5 to its northeastern terminus at the extravagantly named station of Bobigny Pablo Picasso. From here a superfast EX93 bus races along the motorway to the airport. Except when it is hors service, “out of service”, as it was on Friday – just like the rail connection. Instead, an implausible number of passengers crowded aboard a local bus that crawled along for about half an hour to a stop where a second suburban bus took over for the final leg to the airport. Journey time from central Paris: 75 minutes. But my problems were only just beginning.
My departure terminal was 2E. From where the bus dropped off a squadron of by-now-agitated passengers, signs to terminals 2B, 2C and 2D filled the field of vision. Only with an exploratory mission into 2B did I discover that 2E was indeed part of the airport, and at a brisk walk I would be there in 15 minutes.
This was the location for the surprisingly swift border control. But once on the other side, a helpful airport official looked at my boarding pass with a touch of pity. Tracking down Terminal 2E was only the beginning. I was instructed to travel to “Area E04”, which sounded like the European location for the stabling of UFOs. In fact, it is a gateway to two Pluto-like satellites, known as L and M, accessible only by a shuttle train. My flight was shown as L31. A driverless shuttle eventually appeared. From the distance covered, I imagined we had by now crossed into Belgium.
The space-age sensation ended abruptly with first contact with the security queue. No shiny new machines here: strictly laptops and liquids out, and a sense of lethargy that doesn’t work well in a location with thousands of time-pressed travellers.
No emergencies to deal with, a calm and pleasant flight towards the sunset – and Heathrow Terminal 4. By comparison, this “Cinderella” terminal – cut off from the main part of the airport by a live runway – was a pleasure. I made it from plane to Elizabeth line train in 10 minutes flat.
You may well wonder what sort of fool would put himself through such stress on a journey of 200 miles when less damaging trains are available: I give you the standard on-the-day fare of £215 on Eurostar, even on the unloved final train of the day that arrives at London St Pancras International at 10.30pm. Late-bookers must take their chances. But at least it proved a reminder that if the Air France/KLM organisation gives you a choice of changing planes at Amsterdam Schiphol or Paris CDG, go Dutch.
Read more: Members of the Travel Desk of The Independent reveal their least favourite airports
Simon Calder, also known as The Man Who Pays His Way, has been writing about travel for The Independent since 1994. In his weekly opinion column, he explores a key travel issue – and what it means for you.
