I have spent exactly R1,188 on travel pillows at Mr Price over the last seven years. I know this because I went through my banking app’s search history while waiting for a delayed flight at OR Tambo last Tuesday. That is twelve pillows. Twelve. If I had just bought one decent, high-end memory foam situation from a specialized travel shop back in 2017, I’d probably have saved money and my cervical spine wouldn’t feel like it was put through a woodchipper every time I fly to London.
But I didn’t. And I won’t. There is something about the Mr Price travel pillow—specifically the one usually found in the ‘Home’ or ‘Sport’ section near the tills—that captures the essence of panic-buying like nothing else on earth. You’re at the mall, you realize you have a 4-hour bus ride or a red-eye flight tomorrow, and there it is. R99. Maybe R120 if inflation is hitting hard that week. It’s sitting there in a bin, looking soft and harmless. You buy it. You always buy it.
The bead incident of 2018
Let me tell you why I have a personal vendetta against their ‘polystyrene bead’ model, even though I still own one. Five years ago, I was on SAA flight SA234. I had just settled into my middle seat (the worst place on a plane, don’t argue with me) and I went to adjust the pillow around my neck. I must have caught the seam on a stray bit of velcro from my jacket. What happened next can only be described as a slow-motion disaster. The seam didn’t just rip; it surrendered. Those tiny, white, static-charged beads started pouring out like a pressurized leak. They didn’t just fall; they sought out every crevice of my clothing. They stuck to the person in 14B. They got into my gin and tonic. I spent eleven hours covered in the internal organs of a R79 pillow. I felt like a plucked chicken. It was humiliating.
The worst part? I couldn’t even throw it away properly because the beads kept escaping the trash bag. I still find those beads in the lining of that specific suitcase. They are the glitter of the travel world. They never die. If you buy the bead version, you are playing Russian Roulette with your dignity.
The part where I admit I was wrong about memory foam
I used to think memory foam was the answer to all my problems. I really did. I thought the Mr Price ‘Luxury’ version (which is just a denser foam that smells vaguely of a chemical factory) would be the game-cha—wait, I promised myself I wouldn’t use that word. It’s not a game-changer. It’s a brick. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently: the memory foam they sell is often too thick for the average airplane seat. Unless you have the neck of a giraffe, it pushes your head forward at a 45-degree angle. You end up looking at your own lap for six hours. It’s not support; it’s a slow-motion execution. I’ve tried six different brands, and honestly, the Mr Price one is no worse than the R500 ones at Cape Union Mart, which is a depressing thought. They all weigh roughly 320 grams and they all make your neck sweat like you’re running a marathon in a scarf.
The fabric they use for the ‘velvet’ covers is actually a clever heat-trapping mesh designed to ensure you wake up with a damp collar. It’s impressive, really.
Anyway, I was talking about airport snacks earlier to a friend, and it reminded me that the price of a Mr Price pillow is actually less than a large muffin and a coffee at Mugg & Bean. When you look at it that way, it’s hard to be truly angry. You’re buying a disposable item. It’s a single-use plastic in pillow form, which is probably why the planet is dying, but when you’re facing a night in economy, your moral compass tends to spin a bit. But I digress.
The snap button is a lie
Have you noticed the little plastic snap button at the front? The one meant to keep the pillow from sliding off your neck? I have a theory that these are designed to fail after exactly three snaps. I’ve tested this. Well, not scientifically, but out of the 12 pillows I’ve owned, 9 of them had the button pop off before I even cleared security. I once found the male end of the snap in the bottom of my backpack three months after the pillow had been binned. It’s a useless feature. Don’t rely on it. If you want it to stay on, use a safety pin or just accept that you’ll wake up with the pillow halfway down your back and your head resting on the shoulder of a stranger named Gary.
I know people will disagree with me and say, “But the Woolworths ones are so much better!” No, they aren’t. They just have better branding and the fabric feels slightly less like it was made from recycled soda bottles. They still go flat after two uses. I’ve measured the loft of a Mr Price pillow before and after a trip to Johannesburg. It loses about 1.5cm of height. It’s basically a bag of air by the time you get home. Total garbage.
Why I’ll probably buy another one in December
Here is my unfair take: people who buy the travel pillows with the little animal ears or the unicorn horns deserve to have their flights cancelled. There, I said it. It’s an airport, not a nursery. If you are a grown adult wearing a plush frog on your neck, I cannot trust your judgment on anything. I’ll stick to my boring, grey, slightly scratchy Mr Price version, thanks. It’s honest about what it is. It’s a cheap solution to a miserable problem.
I might be wrong about this, but I think we only buy these things to feel like we have some control over our environment. The seats are getting smaller, the air is recycled, and the guy behind you is kicking your chair. The R99 pillow is a tiny, soft shield against the cruelty of modern travel. It doesn’t work, but it feels like you’re trying. And sometimes, trying is all you’ve got when you’re 30,000 feet in the air and the person in front of you just reclined their seat into your kneecaps.
The quality is uneven, the stuffing is questionable, and the zipper will probably break if you look at it too hard. But for the price of a cheap lunch, it’s fine. It’s just… fine.
Don’t buy the one with the beads. Seriously.