The Istanbul Airport lounged in the afternoon haze, concrete and glass glittering. Gates yawned wide, ready for any giant. Through that open door could've rolled the Airbus A380: double-decker, four-engined, loud with runway thunder. But Turkish Airlines has never let a plane that big touch down here.
Back in '93, they skipped the jumbo Boeing 747. Now, they're doing the same with the A380.
Sometimes, what shouts “prestige” costs you in quiet ways—especially in the airline business.
The Decision That Made Sense When No One Was Looking
It's not about whether you can; it's about whether you should.
Turkish had the means. They had the hub. But they ran the numbers. Seasonal demand. High peaks, sudden drops. What do you do with four hundred empty seats at the end of summer? You bleed money.
So, smaller planes. The A340 first. Later, A330s and 777s.
You can always add another flight. You can't split an A380 in half.
Fly More, Fill More
Istanbul sits at the crossroads—or tries to. Turkish didn't win this game with brute force. They doubled down on frequency. More flights. More connections.
You miss the 10 on the flight? There's a noon. You need to go to Tbilisi, not just Paris? They'll get you there.
Big jets lure you into a few routes. Small fleets let you pivot. Maybe that's the real secret—being everywhere, all the time, but never too big in any one place.
The Grind Behind the Glamour
Anyone who loves planes knows the A380 is a beast. Four engines slurping fuel. Specialized parts. Mechanics trained for just one bird.
Turkish built its fleet for ease, not awe. Same planes. Same crew. Same spares. If something breaks, it's familiar. If demand shifts, you don't have a white elephant parked in the hangar.
In aviation, flexibility is everything. The right plane, not the biggest, is what keeps you flying when the winds change.
So what's the catch?
Sometimes, I wonder if Turkish missed a chance for that postcard moment—the double-decker pulling up to the gate, jaws dropping. Prestige matters. Photos matter.
But then, in a world where airlines rise and fall like the tide, maybe the quiet, unsung strategy is the one that lasts. Maybe it's better to connect the world than to impress it.
Or maybe, when I'm stuck in a jammed Airbus, I'll wish for more space.
But when I make my connection, I'll be glad they thought small in a world that always wants to go big.
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