Cell Mates
If you like privacy in your squeezed coach seat, watch out for Ryanair, Europe’s biggest discount carrier. In the second half of 2007—it’s almost here—the maverick Irish trailblazer with a fleet of more than 200 737s buzzing around the continent will begin outfitting 50 with Geneva-based OnAir technology that works with mobile phones, BlackBerries and Treos. Actually, Air France may upstage Ryanair by launching in-flight cell communication in the first quarter of 2007 followed by TAP Air Portugal and Britain’s bmi in the summer—but Ryanair will be the 900-pound gorilla that really finds out whether air travelers can stand a marathon talker in the seats next to them.
The Ailing A380 (cont.)
The latest chapter in the super-jumbo saga of the A380 has a new tough CEO, Christian Streiff, quitting after only three months on the job, largely because of French-German politics, which has bedeviled Airbus since its founding in 1970. Some analysts believe the company should close seven of its 16 assembly plants to streamline production and should get a grip on the wiring problems that are delaying delivery of the A380 by up to two years. Critics say Airbus is out to create industrial jobs in Europe rather than outsource the production of the plane’s many components to less costly manufacturers.
The near-instant replacement for Streiff is a well-respected Frenchman, Louis Gallois, former head of the French railroads, who must reassure some of the jumbo jet’s most important long-haul customers—including Emirates and Virgin Atlantic—that they can count on Airbus making up for some of the lost time on planned deliveries.
Compare the “globalization” at Boeing with the all-in-Europe production at Airbus, and the difference is astonishing. Here’s just a partial list of who is—or will be—making parts for Boeing’s long-range, medium-size 787 Dreamliner:
In Japan, Fuji Heavy Industries (center wing box and wells), Kawasaki Heavy Industries (mid-forward section of the fuselage and the landing gear), and Mitsubishi Heavy Industries (wing box); in France, Latecoere (passenger doors), in Australia, a Boeing subsidiary (leading and trailing edges of the wing), shared with a Tulsa subsidiary; in the United States, Honeywell in Phoenix (the electronic flight control, autopilot and navigation package) and Global Aeronautica in Charleston, South Carolina (mid and rear section of the fuselage); in Britain, Smiths Aerospace UK (much of the avionics equipment); and in Canada in Frederickson and Winnipeg, Boeing suppliers (fuselage fairings and fin).
A Train Wreck With a Future
Remember the illusionist you saw at the carnival? And the body floating on air?
Now think of Maglev, the shorthand name for the magnetic levitation train that has long been Germany’s bid for rail supremacy in a race down the track against France’s TGV (Train a Grande Vitesse, or high-speed train), Japan’s venerable “bullet” trains and any other railroad contender on the globe.
The patents date back to deep within German history—in fact, to the Nazi period before World War II. But even after seven decades of development, Maglev’s magnetism—both real and metaphorical—has been a major (and humiliating) also-ran to France’s incredible success in covering a lot of Europe with its orange-colored TGV brand.
Crash of the Maglev: Then, along came the worst news in September. You can imagine the chill that went through Maglev’s backers when an experimental streamliner loaded with exotic German technology slammed into a “service vehicle” on a 20-mile test track in the tiny town of Lathen near the Dutch border, killing 25 passengers and almost destroying the dream of redefining travel with the “fastest train in the world.” But the project, dubbed the Transrapid, will probably survive the train wreck.
Why is a Maglev train so fascinating—with more lives than a cat?
In the German model—and there are also Japanese, American and other Maglev experiments—the train rides about 10 millimeters above a special track called a guideway and gets its power, as well as elevation, from coils in a magnetic field. It’s friction-less, pollution-free, and almost noiseless (only a whoosh), not to mention that it can fly along at 250 mph if it doesn’t have a stray service vehicle ahead on the track. That’s about 75 mph faster than a commercial jetliner on takeoff. And it has no engine or locomotive. But—you guessed it—Maglev technology is daunting because it eats money.
Flashback to the 1980s: But despite lingering Maglev technology over the decades, France got a head start on Germany and launched its first bullet-nosed, 185-mph TGV in 1981. It was a futuristic-looking streamliner driven by traditional electric power—no magnetic cushion to thrill rail innovators.
About that time, the German National Railway (Deutsche Bahn) was blueprinting a Maglev train that could zip down the track at 280 mph—some 50 percent faster than any TGV and double the speed of the craziest autobahn drivers. (German executives routinely commuted between cities at the wheel of Mercedes, BMWs and other high-performance cars, often preferring the road to rail transport, until speed limits were introduced, however half-heartedly, in the 1990s.)
Maglev enthusiasts including some executives of the German Railways drew a map of Germany that would connect the country’s decentralized business cities. All it would take is money—billions of deutschmark.
So, sensibly, the project was broken into bite-size stretches of “guideways.” For instance, one proposal would link Dortmund and Düsseldorf. The ultimate connection would be a super-fast Maglev run between the port of Hamburg in the far north and Munich, the business anchor in the Bavarian southeast.
Rising Maglev Sun: The Germans weren’t without global companions in their burst of enthusiasm for Maglev trains. On the other side of the world—in Japan in the late ‘80s—engineers were putting together their version of a train that would hover over the guide rails.
One of the interested parties was, of all organizations, Japan Airlines, which trotted out a model of a futuristic train at public events. For example, a working model of a Maglev-train-to-be was put on display at a high-tech corporate and government exhibition north of Tokyo—with demonstration runs.
Low-tech Speedsters: Meanwhile, if you were a business traveler in Germany looking for signs of the vaunted Maglev, no such luck. For German Railways, the experimental train was a pig in a blanket rather than solid sauerbraten. It got no respect, more or less. The bottom line was that a Maglev burns money faster than it covers ground.
But the German rail system, plowing ahead, upstaged itself. To get around the country—from Hamburg to Frankfurt to Stuttgart to Munich (with Berlin still imprisoned by the Iron Curtain)—you could hop on any number of traditional-looking ICEs or InterCity Expresses that casually tool along at 110 mph, only without the fun of playing with the latest—and largely untested—Maglev model. Low tech, of a sort, finessed high tech.
Today, those plain-jane expresses are still supremely efficient, speedy and on time with humdrum but useful perks such as drop-down work trays for biz travelers.
What’s helped to keep Maglev alive is the oversight and cooperation of two German powerhouses: Siemens in the electrical and telecom end and ThyssenKrupp for fabricating the steel. Even before the Lathen crash, Thyssen was reportedly having second thoughts about continuing to work on Maglev. But those aren’t the first afterthoughts in the project’s history.
France 1, Germany 0: But the rail scorecard to date between Germany and France in their near-panic to become the fastest kid on the global rail block is decidedly mixed.
So far, in a reversal of the cultural differences between the two countries, France has proven to have German efficiency and Germany a case of incorrigible French creativity.
Who’s the winner? Pourquoi, France with its TGVs operating all over France and even to Geneva, next door, as well as on the Eurostar network between London and Paris/Brussels. The TGV is now the express of choice in Europe.
The train-plane contest on trips of up to 400 or more miles has already killed a lot of traditional European air traffic. It has also been a catalyst for the boom in discount airlines that connect cities that are awkward pairs if you go by rail. (The much slower Acela train hasn’t dented air traffic much along the U. S. Northeast Corridor.) City-center-to-city-center speed is what counts, which is where the magnetic-powered Maglev technology comes into the story.
Sell It Abroad: Don’t worry about the technology going to waste. The Europeans, Germans included, are specialists at not giving up. What they can’t make and sell at home, they peddle in the export market. In fact, some products are largely for export, from inception to production.
The Germans have long loved the Chinese market. So, to experience Maglev in action, fly into Shanghai’s Pudong International Airport and—guess what—cover the 18 miles to the No. 2 subway line into town in eight minutes aboard a Maglev whiz train.
China, eager to show its acquaintance with 21st century technology, bought into the Maglev sales pitch. Now there’s talk of a $30 billion line between Shanghai and Beijing—with the Chinese hedging their bets by saying they favor developing high-speed trains—and not naming the Maglev.
Who’s next? The United States where a Baltimore-Washington or southern California Maglev (linking L.A. airports) sets rail buffs to talking as though they were reading from a sci-fi script?
Lustrous Lady Luck
The jury is still out on Atlantic City’s bid to become an East Coast Vegas. But it has added considerable heft and luster since the arrival of the luxe Borgata Hotel Casino & Spa (www.theborgata.com) where you can celebrate your winnings—or anesthetize your loses—by dining in real style at Wolfgang Puck American Grille, Bobby Flay Steak, Old Homestead Steakhouse (“specializing in the four food groups: beef, beef, beef and beef”), and four other two-thumbs-up restaurants. And now Pinnacle Entertainment of Las Vegas is putting $270 million of its chips on a top-to-bottom upgrade of the Sands Casino Hotel.
As the seaside gaming city adds white collars to its blue-collar wardrobe, the affluent crowd may awaken to the fact that Atlantic City is less than a three-hour drive from New York City and a mere one hour, 15 minutes from Philadelphia. The jaunt—we didn’t say joint—is beginning to deserve a Lexus rather than a bus for the ride to get there.
Chocoholic Heaven
Try this to put a spin on a business lunch or dinner you’re hosting in the Big Apple: After you’ve had your main course—probably its signature fettuccini—at Alfredo of Rome in Rockefeller Center (4 West 49th Street off Fifth Avenue, 212-397-0100), surprise your guests with a kind of main dessert course served on a chocolate-laden cart. Invitingly displayed on the “chariot” is an array of specialty chocolates that may defy translation even with an Italian or French dictionary (Gianduja from Turin, Nocciolata from Piemont among the standouts). The flavored chocolate squares from France—in mandarin, coconut, pistachio and mango flavors—are more familiar. And the energetic owner of the Alfredo chain, Russell Bellanca, and executive chef Mirco Grassini, pair these delectables with drinks such as Vermeer, a Dutch chocolate cream liqueur. Order by plate size: any five pieces for $10, 10 pieces for $15, and 15 for $25. Don’t weigh yourself after this memorable indulgence. And wear blinders so you won’t see all the tourists around you.
The Pumps of Putin
Lukoil may make you think of—well, Luke Skywalker of Star Wars fame. But instead of his trusty green lightsaber, think hammer and sickle when you fill up the tank of your rental car with Lukoil.
I first saw a Lukoil station four years ago on the two-lane road headed north out of Bucharest to Brasso in Romania and thought that it was probably Russian—but wasn’t sure. Turns out, I was on the right track. Lukoil is a Russian bear with bullish ambitions. And it’s a relative newcomer, founded in 1991 during the turmoil when ruthless Russian entrepreneurs were taking the nation’s assets private.
If you’re too busy watching the road, you may have missed Lukoil’s stealth entry into the U.S. market—with some 2,000 stations already spotted around some 13 states and backed by proven Russian reserves second only to those of ExxonMobil. Lukoil doesn’t look that big in the United States, as yet, because it hasn’t pulled down a lot of the Getty and Mobil signs at stations it has taken over.
Good thing, Lukoil’s invasion, you might say. Buying Lukoil is one way of getting back at the anti-American petro peddlers in the Middle East and Venezuela whose president Hugo Chavez hurled insults at the White House in a U.N. speech with all the diplomacy of a buffoon.
But is Russian oil any better, cheaper or less permeated with politics than anybody else’s? Noting that Lukoil has been back stage while the “soap opera” of Yukos plays out—with its boss Mikhail Khodorkovsky in prison—Car & Driver’s Patrick Bedard, for one, gently twists the tail of the big bear under the heading: “Gas pains: Filling up at the Pumps of Putin.” Czar he may be, but President Putin is super-capitalist as well—with KGB spy on his résumé.
The head of Lukoil America says the company, which feeds off of wells in western Siberia, hopes to have 3,000 stations operating here, competing on price with the entrenched brands like BP, Chevron, and Citgo. An American refinery is in Lukoil’s game plan. And it hopes to grow bigger than ExxonMobil—at least in the American market. But don’t hold your breath waiting for Lukoil price-cutting.
Resetting the Clock
A fixture of the island-hopping circuit for 66 years—often operating on “Caribbean time” and specializing in flight delays—Trinidad’s cash-strapped British West Indies Airways (affectionately called Bee-Wee) is throwing in the beach towel and beginning a second life as Caribbean Airlines in January. It’s a fast-acting formula that solves the labor union problem plaguing so many airlines: If workers don’t agree to necessary pay cuts, close down the carrier, clean up the books, and start again. But how can the new airline compensate for high jet fuel prices, which contributed to BWIA’s demise?
Test-driving America
It’s old news that most nations—and not just those in the Islamic world—have a less than favorable view of the United States these days. But a Pew Research study shows that people who have visited the United States return home feeling about 40 percent better about us than foreigners who have never been here.
Ergo, says the new Discover America Partnership backed by such blue chips as Anheuser-Busch and Walt Disney, let’s do a much better job marketing the United States abroad—not so difficult, I’d say, with all the advertising geniuses available in this country. Beyond building a better image, get the foreigners to these shores through the current thicket of visa red tape, exacerbated by terrorist fears. It’s the first and worst contact foreigners have with the red, white and blue.
Breeching that visa barrier alone would eliminate one major source of anti-Americanism—for instance, end the long-running samba between the United States and Brazil over reciprocal visa requirements. Small matter that Brazil is the largest country in Latin America and one of the most influential. And it’s basically pro-American, absent the visa snag.
“If you were an automobile company and folks told you that if someone test drove your car they would feel 40 percent better about your brand,” Roger Dow, CEO of the Travel Industry Association says, “wouldn’t you encourage test drives?”
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