Oh Joy! A new travel torture

Why...

Do airport managers spend so much time thinking of ways to make a journey through their fiefdom so unpleasant? I dislike intensely zigzag queuing but understand that it’s an efficient way to stack a lot of people in a confined space. However, when there are no queues, zigzagging like some demented pinball to achieve going forward twenty feet by a walk that would be an Olympic long distance event, is completely daft.

...and another thing

After the sheep pen experience of zigzag queuing at customs is the delight of checking bags. Confiscation of liquids or anything remotely inflammable only to then load up with alcohol, perfume, and cigarettes that are all as combustible as fireworks. Let’s not forget the joy of the endless sheep dip walk that requires you to meander through never ending duty fee aisles (which often isn’t truly duty free) until you are spat out at your gate.

...and another thing

Now I’m sure the bright spark who put a piano in departure thought that everyday some would-be Chopin or Elton John would be tickling the ivories to enhance your departure experience. Nope. It’s either a child allowed to plunkity-plunk-plink aimlessly over the keys with parents trying to convince passer-byes that their child is ‘very advanced for his or her age’, or some cretin trying to relive the school years by repeating chopsticks ad nauseam. It’s just as well there are rigorous searches for weapons before check-in, for were I to have a machete on me I think the floor would be littered with severed fingers!

...and another thing

Gate numbering.

Let’s say my part of the departure lounge points at gates 1-30. Mine is 16. 1-15 is all laid out in serried ranks standing to attention to greet you in a logical order. However, after gate 15 they suddenly are numbered in descending order so next is gate 30 with16 the furthest away. Apart from just messing with passenger’s heads so that they want to recommend the Airport manager to a vivisectionist, is their any real logic to this?

 After heaving your duty free and cabin bag across two time zones and several post codes to reach the gate, you would think there would be the reward of peace and quiet whilst you try and find a spare seat at the gate. But no! Enter yet another circle of hell.

In a vain attempt to inject a snippet of luxury to the charabanc rides that are now flights in Europe, I occasionally stump up the money for priority boarding. However, it’s very misleading as the transport you are given priority to board is the bus to take you to the plane. You simply swap sitting in the departure hall for strap hanging in a bus waiting for everyone to load.

Oh joy.

I crave a lottery win and a Private Citation jet… and screw the C02.

 

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