I’d heard the rumours. Listened to the tales of woe. Read the ops. But I still believed it wouldn’t happen to me. 4 flights later, though, I can tell you once and for all: Iberia are just as bad as they say.

Though the plane was fine – clean seat pockets (I *hate* finding someone else’s half used sick bag in there waiting for me), pleasant blue and yellow design, “interesting” music in the cabin (the same 3 songs on repeat – on BOTH flights that day), decent leg room for economy class – the staff unfortunately seemed to have had the same customer service training at Mr Check In Man. My request for a vegetarian meal was met with a “you have to book those in advance”. “Yes,” I replied, “I know that, and I did. It was confirmed at check in too”. “Harrumph” was all she had to say to that. Getting hold of drinks was equally fun – being a scheduled service, the two longer trips (1 hr 45 mins for the Frankfurt – Barcelona leg, compared with a measly 35 for the Barcelona – Ibiza one) came with a free bar service. I asked for zumo de naranja. A blank look. I asked for Orangensaft. A frown. I asked for orange juice. A “what is she on?” glance. I got out of my seat and pointed to the carton, tagging on another “por favour” for good measure, but she still didn’t smile, though I did get my drink.

For once there was in-flight entertainment provided but they needn’t have bothered – it was mainly adverts for their services (picturing smiling, happy customers – what a joke) and film snippets. Since everything was provided in 3 languages, it took a while. The safety demos at the start were performed simultaneously by the crew and the people on the TV, and repeated in 3 languages as well. Being told 12 times in the last week that my lifejacket was under my seat was really not the highlight of my trip.

I’d checked in for both flights in Frankfurt but hadn’t been given a gate number for my second one at that point. Iberia are one of a few airlines that have detailed passenger lists on board, and before we landed they went through it, telling those of us transferring in Barca where we needed to get to, to save precious minutes of shopping time being spent searching the monitors for details. I liked that.

Part of the One World Alliance, Iberia are one of a handful of Spanish airlines, and serve destinations all over the world via their Barcelona and Madrid transfer hubs. You can book online at Iberia.com, over the phone or via a travel agent – I used a local one here in Germany as they had, surprisingly, better prices than STA travel. Student fares aren’t really available, but there are discounts for under 26s. I also spoke to them on the phone to confirm my meal choice, and though I rang their number for Germany, and then pressed their “speak English” button, they answered in Spanish.

As for the title, perhaps “Roger Sanchez might accidentally have brushed against my butt as we got onto the plane we were both catching from Ibiza and / or was only millimeters away from my bum as we headed to the transfer area at Barcelona airport” would be a bit more accurate, but it wouldn’t have got you all intrigued, would it? He was the only good part of my Iberia experience, so he had to have a mention really, but Ibiza itself was star studded, and further ops will follow.