Airports

[El Presidente]

As I head from Miami to LAX, I can't help thinking that airports are the closest thing we have to human zoos . Take away the security processing drama, I love airports and the visual spectacle that tantalises the senses........and there are none two better than Miami International and LAX 

Next to me in 4D is a lovely lass who has had enough surgery to meet my seat number. That and the fact that she is dressed head to toe in sports spandex leads me to assume that she is not a shrinking violet. Too my left and one up in 3A is a guy about my age decked out head to toe in versace .....including head band.  WTF?  😅 

Somewhere at the back of the plane is a guy dressed up as darth vader and two women in their early 20's dressed as Barbie. Pink top to toe. 

I love it. if you enjoy people watching then these two airports are world class. Mind you that would be the only things they lead on. 

[KCCubano]

They also lead the universe as #1 rated germ factories! Hope you return to Oz unscathed! 

[El Hoze]

Miami used to be our home airport. My wife and I used to play a game at the airport when we were flying home in the security line, etc. “guess who is on our flight to Miami”…the only rule is if the person is clearly Spanish-speaking that disqualifies them, has to be something else. It is actually remarkably easy, even in larger airports. I typically go for the watch, my wife the other bling. Hey babe you see that guy over there with the gigantic gold AP watch on? Yeah the guy with his sunglasses on inside. 100% going to Miami. 

[Paladin865]

Walmarts in the US are the closest thing to a human zoo or the Jerry Springer Show

[benfica_77]

I'm disappointed Artie hasn't used his creative accounting practices to write off a private plane for you. Air FOH is needed! 

[Fireball]

I'm disappointed Artie hasn't used his creative accounting practices to write off a private plane for you. Air FOH is needed! 

“Ladies and Gentleman, the captain has turned off the no smoking sign.”

[BoliDan]

I spend a lot of time at Denver airport. Probably 15 visits a year. The amount of people is staggering. It's as congested as JFK. I just find a bar to hide my face until boarding time. Always pick an aisle seat because I need to pee out all the beers I had.

[Fireball]

Miami is wild to say the least. I regularly fly out of Detroit and it is about as low key as a a full size airport can be- so I don’t get to see as much people watching as others.

[BrightonCorgi]

2 hours ago, BoliDan said:

I spend a lot of time at Denver airport. Probably 15 visits a year.

Denver airport has the most people in shape of any airport in the States.

[MrBirdman]

I just count myself fortunate when none of those people are flying the plane. 

[SCgarman]

Well to be honest, all these colorful characters are likely heading back to Los Angeles. When in Rome, do as the Romans do.......🤩

[El Presidente]

47 minutes ago, chasy said:

 I always wonder who’s deciding to buy a LV purse or Hermes scarf at an airport…

.......the guilty 

[JohnS]

That only thing that can top that story is being greeted by the Hare Krishnas on your way into the Airport. Now that would have been the cherry on the cake! 😁

[Bill Hayes]

I also like the opposite style of airport. On one island in the Solomons, we were greeted by a local in a grass skirt who seemed to magically appear out of the jungle. Ha ha! He had a clip board and a machete. Wasn't quite sure what to think.

[Drguano]

The caption for this reads: "Airline passenger wears all her clothes to avoid baggage fees"

[Ken Gargett]

On 8/6/2023 at 10:11 AM, chasy said:

I love T5 at Heathrow. You feel being abroad instantly - great people watching, good food, etc. I’m not an airport shopper, unless out of necessity. I always wonder who’s deciding to buy a LV purse or Hermes scarf at an airport…

T5? if ever there was the seventh ring of hell come to earth, boiling rivers of blood and pus and politicians, inhabited by bone lazy scum who should be denied oxygen, that orc-ridden den of incest and sodomy is it. 

[BrightonCorgi]

20 hours ago, Drguano said:

The caption for this reads: "Airline passenger wears all her clothes to avoid baggage fees"

And suffocates on plane.  Hope her pre-flight meal was easy on digestion.

[Drguano]

9 hours ago, Ken Gargett said:

T5? if ever there was the seventh ring of hell come to earth, boiling rivers of blood and pus and politicians, inhabited by bone lazy scum who should be denied oxygen, that orc-ridden den of incest and sodomy is it. 

Don’t restrain yourself, tell us how you really feel.

[Ken Gargett]

8 hours ago, Drguano said:

Don’t restrain yourself, tell us how you really feel.

i did an article for a fishing mag i used to write for - sadly it folded as the publisher decided to go off and be a birdwatcher???? 

this will give you an idea of my thoughts of this vile place. 

Fishing Wild - Horror – Heathrow Hell

 

Satyagraha. Gandhi’s name for civil disobedience. The time was fast approaching when I could see no alternative. Granted that this may not have been quite of the ilk of the ‘March on Washington’ or the ‘Free Mandela’ protests, but there are times when a man must take a stand. Times when the forces of evil and incompetence must be challenged and repelled. If forced into the role of Horatio on the bridge, compelled to take one for the team, I was ready. 

 

And is there anything more evil and incompetent than airlines and security. Yes, ‘rather safe than sorry’, but there are limits and I was well past mine. It is one thing to be delayed in normal circumstances – I am fairly ambivalent about that – but quite another to have a long-awaited fishing trip to the bonefish flats of Las Salinas in Cuba imperiled.

 

I’d had to go to Helsinki for work – we were judging the greatest wines from the decade of the 1970’s. Just because one enjoys one’s work, doesn’t mean it isn’t work (and no, no one actually has to do it, but if that turns you a little envious, the tasting we had as a lead up to 160 of the decade’s finest will send you green as grass, with wines dating back as far as 1727!). I figured Finland was close enough to Cuba to duck down with a couple of mates for a little flyfishing. I had not been for a few years and was suffering withdrawal symptoms. A couple of friends – an American called Rob and a fellow wine scribe called James – had not been before and both were very keen. The idea was we’d meet up in Cancun (annoyingly, changes in airline timetables meant we could no longer just transit through but had to stay overnight) and head to Havana next day.

 

I had a very early flight from Helsinki to London (Helsinki must surely have the most expensive taxis on the planet – the trip took four songs and yet cost the equivalent of A$100), which was a tough one given the tasting and dinner the previous evening meant I’d had all of about two hours sleep. The plan then was BA to Miami and on to Cancun. But things needed to go smoothly (in fairness to BA, I’ve never had an issue with them and this was not their fault). I had nearly two hours in Heathrow before the connecting flight, which I figured would be tight but doable if I didn’t muck about. So, it was off the plane and moving as fast as one could, through the various hoops. I had to change terminals (there is a reason they call them ‘terminal’) but it was under control and I was making up time every step. I had this under control, I thought. Talk about speaking too soon.

 

Terminal five, Heathrow. No doubt the model for Dante’s Inferno. A vile, pernicious, pus-ridden, bubbling, fetid, toxic, malodorous den of the dregs of humanity. Then there are the passengers. Innocent pawns wallowing in a game of torment that would embarrass the Gods. ‘Security’, barbarians already at the Gates of Hell, indeed. Terminal Five – a place that would even make lawyers and politicians hang their heads in shame.

 

Still, onward. I’ve long learnt to be exceedingly polite to security staff, laugh at their jokes (in England, to go so far as to acknowledge the undoubted superiority of their cricket team, as much as that galls) and I’d even gawp at their holiday slides if that is what it takes. Avoid the hassles, is the motto. I was directed to put my carry-on items in various tubs. I queried putting things in with my laptop, but those were the instructions. I simply thought, when in Rome… Off went my tubs; through went I. But no. One of the two tubs was diverted to the naughty line. No matter. I had plenty of time. Mine was about 6^th tub in the queue. All should be well.

 

I watched the old gent search the first bag in the queue. Yes, ‘better safe than sorry’, but this was ridiculous. Twenty minutes. The old saying about ‘continents drifting faster’ suddenly had relevance. I was starting to sweat a little. At this rate…

 

With this bag, the old gent finished his shift. I figured all would now be well. Several minutes later, no sign of his replacement, though three diligent colleagues had sat on their collective tushes nearby doing nothing but yacking the entire time. Finally, a young bloke fronts up. Now we are surely cooking. First, he spends several minutes chatting to anyone he can find and then over he comes and takes the next tub. The first bloke was Usain Bolt compared to this guy. Excruciating. Sweat was now pouring. I’m torn. I don’t want to make myself a target but I’ve no choice. I step up and, as politely as is possible, I ask, and I assured him I was not pushing in, if there was any chance things could perhaps move a smidge quicker as several of us had flights we were in danger of missing.

 

He doesn’t look up. “Protocol. Going as fast as we can”. I refrain from the obvious. A few minutes later, I give it another go. I ask if perhaps, given that surely it is in no one’s interest for people to miss flights, he could get some assistance?

 

“No. We are all busy”. At this stage, a South African voice decides to “assist”. She gives the staff a gobful. Not helpful. I continue being as polite as I possibly can and suggest that perhaps one or more of the three security officers who have done zero but guzzle coffee and chat amongst themselves could assist. No, I am assured, they are busy (I’m getting very close to being less polite) and after all, “protocol”. Had I known that after I got through security here, I still had a train and a bus to my boarding gate, I’d have already lost it. Anyway, I suggest that surely it can’t be ‘protocol’ for people to miss their flights? I am ignored.

 

I try again.

 

Again, “Protocol”. Seriously?

 

I see a woman in a different uniform walk by (no idea what it signified but it looked a little more impressive). I explain the problem and that if I don’t get through here – and I did arrive with more than enough time – in very quick time, then BA will be calling me and having to offload my luggage, which will delay an international flight and inconvenience both the airline and passengers. She remains impassive. I add ‘and inconvenience other security staff who will have to offload the luggage’. The South African continues to assist in her own special way.

 

I almost had her at ‘other security staff’ but the response? Take a wild guess. “Protocol”. I am now drenched with sweat and getting a touch frantic. I ask why mine was targeted. Is it random or have I transgressed? I am told, when she works out which tub is mine, that I put stuff in the same tub as my laptop. “But I was told to”! Easter Island statues show more emotion.

 

At this stage, one of the three from the ‘coven of endless coffee’ gets up and wanders across. Asks the problem. She then says that she heard staff tell me not to put anything in with the laptop. I know that is a lie and I point out that she could not possibly have heard that as, in the 45 minutes I have been here, she has not got off her bum and done a shred of anything. Yes, I was starting to fray. She scuttles off without another word to continue her conversation with her two pals, no doubt regretting interrupting her coffee. I suggest if that is all, that we put the stuff through in different tubs, if that will make Her Majesty’s finest happy. “Can’t do that. Protocol”. Lord spare me. I suggest she put the tub through ten times, put me through if it will help. I am ignored.

 

Finally, she walks around and takes my tub to an unattended station. Is this progress or purgatory? Several minutes later, nothing.

 

It is about now I decide that civil disobedience will follow if I miss this flight. Someone has to draw attention to this insidious, malevolent behavior, no matter what the personal cost. I know that if I do miss this flight, the dominoes will fall. I won’t make the Cancun transfer and I know that flights to Havana are booked for several days. Unless I get on this plane, the fishing for which I have travelled around the world (and paid) is over! I decide I will call every security person anything and everything I can. I will refuse to budge. I will get myself arrested (it seemed like a good idea at the time). I will make them prosecute me!

 

I reckon I have two minutes before all is lost (remember I had no idea about the train et al). As I wind myself up to explain to this miserable damp island why it should be sunk without a trace, a new woman walks over, picks up my laptop, zips it through the machine (took all of four seconds) and hands it to me. Apparently, that is it. I race away.

 

Down the stairs I go and there is the station. Oh what fresh hell…

 

A train is on one platform. I have no idea which way to go – yes, I could have used the delay more profitably. I take a chance and jump on the train, only to find it has several stops and I have even less idea about at which one I should be alighting. I figure that the sort of day this has been, it will be the furthest. And sure enough. Then a bus. I see another bloke who is also a sweating, gasping blob and we both recognize a fellow victim. Together we stumble and heave and waddle to the gate. We are the very last. They look at us in that ‘this is why you were part of our empire’ sort of way. All I want is a towel and a cold beer. A lot of cold beer. I recall very little of the flight, though things did not get better in Cancun, either then or trying to get back through to get home post fishing. Mexican security, what there is as it literally works on a lottery – press this button to see if we can ruin your lives – made the Brits look like amateur torturers. My suggestion, after several hours of despair and suffering, that they’d be better off handing the entire country over to the drug lords as they’d be far more competent and far less corrupt, hardly ruffled their feathers. They are gold medalists in making a traveller’s life hell.

 

Cuba, on the other hand, was like an old friend, although one who has grown up a little. Havana was its warm, humid, smoky, seductive self; old friends were as welcoming as they were the last time I was there; and the fishing was wonderful – the very last cast of the trip brought my first ever barracuda, a 25 lb. stunner, on my 8-weight. And nothing could wipe the smile off my face, bar the thought of ever having to battle Heathrow again.

 

PS – in a wry twist, apparently I (or more accurately, my email address) am in Heathrow’s system. I was randomly selected to answer a survey about my experience and to make suggestions. As I have seen no reports of mass suicides taking place throughout the British bureaucracy, it would seem I have been ignored. Again.

 

KBG

[Chibearsv]

1 hour ago, Ken Gargett said:

Terminal Five – a place that would even make lawyers and politicians hang their heads in shame.

My favorite line in an outstanding write up. Bravo!

[Ken Gargett]

22 hours ago, Chibearsv said:

My favorite line in an outstanding write up. Bravo!

thanks. it was a lot more fun to write than experience. 

[Ken Gargett]

7 hours ago, chasy said:

Little did I know that I would say I like a specific terminal, within a specific airport and Ken would follow up with a published essay ripping it to shreds, literally.

I’m gonna take a lap. Will do better next time.

you pick one terminal...

seriously, almost anywhere else and you were fine. i say almost as there are a few others...

[Ken Gargett]

9 hours ago, chasy said:

Ok, trying my luck again. I will say that Palm Spring CA has to be the absolute cockiest airport I’ve ever been to. The gates are outdoors. Completely flaunting their weather.

never been.