Don’t ask to swap seats – but it’s fine to recline: The new travel etiquette

Inspired by The Cut’s viral (and admittedly “deranged”) list of rules for a post-Covid society, the travel desk thought it would compile a fresh etiquette guide for the modern traveller. Buckle up (and don’t unbuckle until that seatbelt sign is off): here’s our 25-point guide to being a good travel citizen this year.

No one likes that person dropping pens, used tissues and screwed-up receipts as they rifle for their passport or liquids. So do yourself and all of us a favour by getting a cabin bag with a zip pocket or compartment at the front. Your passport and ticket go in here, for frequent whipping out; liquids that are ziplock-bag-ready go in a washbag towards the top or front of the main bag compartment, ready for the security tray. We had two pandemic years to think about this, people.

More bags are being pulled aside at security than ever before. And much as we’d like to say it’s never ours, even we’ve fallen foul of that one mini hand cream or nail polish in the darkest depths of our carry-on. The Conveyor Belt of Doom is stressful enough without us forgetful Frannies adding to it, so let’s all commit to a double-check this year.

Are you one of those passengers who is reliably out like a light the minute they’re buckled in and leaning back against the headrest? As someone who finds sleeping on planes near impossible, I think you should be studied; but, more pressingly, why do you always seem to book the middle or aisle seat? If you don’t want people tapping, nudging, or (on one occasion) straddling you in a bid to get to the loo, reserve the window where you’ll be left in peace.

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Obviously we’re not advocating getting plastered pre-flight. But there’s a festive, timeless feel to an airport, so let your friend or partner have a glass of fizz at 10am, comment free, if they fancy. Equally, avoid giving the side-eye if your travel pal doesn’t want a drink at the airport.

After much debate, the travel team can confirm that it is permissible to recline your plane seat, even on a short journey — as long as food and drink has not recently been served by cabin crew. Extra travel citizen points for having a quick look around you to see if the person behind is using the tray table; they might want some warning.

There’s a reason seatback screens come with headphones. Two hundred people watching Magic Mike’s Last Dance on full volume would be chaos (though not necessarily unenjoyable). And your tablet or smartphone is not exempt from this rule, especially when given to a small child or used for gaming. Ditto watching an endless, noisy stream of Instagram Stories or TikToks as others are boarding. Put a plug in it.

There are several pockets of a flight when the loos are untroubled and queue-free. But we don’t go then, do we? We wait until the captain tells us they’re about to switch the seatbelt signs on, then descend on the toilet area like it’s the Pyramid Stage at Glasto. Avoid the bog bottleneck by going around an hour before your flight lands, approximately 20 minutes before rush hour (or should we say, flush hour).

They didn’t ask to be born, let alone be booked on the 9.25pm to Mauritius. If you’re infant-adjacent and there are spare seats or rows elsewhere in the cabin, wait until boarding is complete, then subtly ask cabin crew if you can move to a row further back. And throw the parents a supportive smile, regardless of the answer.

If you’ve had a faff booking a seat next to your partner and children, it’s understandably worrying – but that’s a matter for your airline, not other passengers. Ask staff at the check-in desk if you can be seated together, remind airline staff at the gate that you’re hoping to be, and make sure you’ve looped in a cabin crew member once onboard before attempting to rearrange (usually solo) travellers like chess pieces.

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The flexibility of a train picnic is one of the joys of travel by rail. But wafting katsu curry or burger grease through the carriage is just plain bad form; stick to cold or unscented foods, or tuck into your takeaway while still in the station.

One bane of rail fans’ lives is the modest amount of room on ground-level luggage racks on long-distance trains. It usually leaves people straining to lift chunky cases and holdalls onto overhead shelves. If you have a lighter bag, make use of those overhead areas, leaving the racks to the hefty cases. Should you see someone struggling, help them out. Train karma is real, and yours might come around at the next stop.

Whoever invented the train “quiet carriage”, we salute you. Unfortunately most Britons don’t seem to know about, or at least respect, this bubble of peace and productivity. If you’re one of them: newsflash, some carriages are designated as quiet. As it’s usually just one in a selection of eight or 10, this shouldn’t inconvenience you if you’re a loud person. Move into the next one over and chatter away to your heart’s content.

On long-distance trains, precious few power points can become battlegrounds for digital nomads and business travellers, each determined to make the most of the creaking wifi. But be aware, and share: it’s the height of bad manners to hog a train table’s for the entire journey, leaving your seatmate out of juice.

If you’re alighting at the final stop, expect several minutes of faff as everyone finds their ticket, assembles their bags and shrugs their coat back on. Tutting and rolling your eyes won’t make this process go faster. Just wait your turn, and engage in some deep breathing if needs be. Got a tight train connection to make? Make sure you’re up, equipped with bag and by the door more than five minutes before you reach your station, ready to leg it to the next platform.

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This goes for planes and trains, too, but it’s most essential in the fight to convince hotels and resorts to eradicate single-use plastic bottles. A refillable bottle costs as little as £1 online, and collapsible ones won’t take up much luggage space. Pack it in your hand luggage, seek out the airport filtered water tap before your flight, and ask at your hotel check-in where you can find filtered water (many business hotels have tap areas on each floor, especially in the US; if not, the restaurant or bar may be able to provide). And be sure to register your displeasure at any plastic bottles left in your room or served in restaurants; the tide has been turning on this one for years.

This one needs a buy-in from all of us in order to work, so listen up: no more towel-draped “bagsies” on hotel sun loungers. We don’t care if you’ve done it in the past, if everyone’s doing it, or if it’s the done thing back home. You may drape a towel over a lounger in the minutes before you plan to use it, but then: do use it. When you’re finished, take the towel back to the laundry point or your room, leaving the lounger clear for someone else. Lunchtime rules are: you can duck away for an hour and keep your spot, but no more. Hotel managers should also make sure there’s a system in place to avoid beach bags at dawn.

Something wrong with the quality of experience at your hotel? Chances are, the flaw that has irked you was not masterminded by the 25-year-old on the front desk, earning £23,000 per annum. Politely mention that there’s an issue, but ask for a quiet word with the manager about it. When they come, take them aside for a discreet chat. By raging at the “face” of the hotel, not only are you ruining someone’s day – there’s little to nothing they can do about it.

Some hotels are good at clearly communicating which in-room items are for the taking and which aren’t, but there are still grey areas. Allow me to enlighten you: mini toiletries, soap, non-minibar bottled water, teabags, coffee sachets, notepads and pens are all fair game. Robes, pillowcases, loo roll, full-sized toiletries and lightbulbs: what are you, the Artful Dodger? Put that back. (Shout out to the “inebriated” gentleman who tried to smuggle a stuffed wild boar’s head out of Birmingham’s Hotel du Vin.)

Here’s a dirty little secret from the people behind the travel-guide scenes: the handful of sites that reviews websites and tour aggregators flag up as the “best” are more often simply the most visible, the most visited, or the most expensively marketed (and thus most crowded). We’re not saying ditch the most famous spots completely. By all means, if you’re into fine art, go and see that centuries-old gallery; if you’re romantic about churches, head straight for that spire. But be aware that a destination’s highlights are completely subjective: wandering a pretty neighbourhood, finding a small street-corner art space or trying that place’s signature street food are every bit as valid as those hackneyed top 10 sights.

Every temple, church, mosque and even cultural venue has its own rules, so if you’re visiting any kind of sacred place, the onus is on you to do the prep. Do you need to wear long sleeves, ankle length trousers, a sarong or scarf? Are food and drink allowed? Are there no-go areas for non-worshippers? Ask your hotel, hosts or guide, or have a comprehensive google before going.

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Cash seems to have all but disappeared post-Covid, which is a shame for both tipping and small impulse buys, things that can make a world of difference to local hospitality staff, artisans and street vendors. Bring at least £50 worth of the local currency and make a point of spending it with those who will appreciate it most.

Remember when singers and bands began asking gig-goers to take a photo, then put their phone away? Just as standing in an auditorium with 90,000 iPhones obscuring your view kind of kills the magic, your first moments with Machu Picchu, the dunes of the Sahara or the colours of the Grand Canyon are also best soaked in screen-free. Desperate to post evidence later? Take 1-3 snaps on first seeing the view, then actively put your phone away and make sure you take the same amount of minutes to take it in sans device. Everything looks better with the naked eye, anyway.

Unless someone has expressly asked to see your holiday snaps in an I’m-dying-to-go-there context, please don’t subject them to more than five swipes of the smartphone. They’ve probably seen them on social media already, and with all due respect, you’re unlikely to have captured groundbreaking new footage of that swim-up bar.

Tallying up nations like notches on a bedpost is so 2010, folks. Not only is asking people how many long-haul flights they’ve taken environmentally tone deaf and arguably classist (a big wad of cash does help in the pursuit of visiting every continent), it’s not in the spirit of modern travel. Many of us are trying to travel more mindfully, getting to know places in-depth, and going back several times to meet the locals, learn the language and really dig into the scene.

In a social-media-driven culture, it’s easy to present our travels as one big highlights reel of glossy, filtered images and videos. #Blessed, right? But in every trip, things go wrong – often small frustrations and things we can learn from. Help others in the big old travel ecosystem by letting your friends know about things you got wrong: the blunders you made, overrated things you saw and scams you encountered. Travel is far from perfect – but we love it anyway.