Monday, 29 August 2016

I hate airports and air travel in general

I hate airports and air travel in general.
Recently we had a short notice requirement to fly to a wedding.
And they didn't have business class.
I'd rather have driven as you get to see interesting places, people, trees, green fields and what not.
But airports?
I hate airports.
I sat there gazing at the herd (some of whom were literally unwashed), and felt airports are a metaphor for life.
Heaven and hell.
Blue skies and pain.
Practically strip searched before being allowed entry by stern faced gate keepers.
Sitting on uncomfortable chairs for ages in boredom and pain.
Surrounded by steel, plastic and faux-wood outlets selling rubbish at outrageous prices.
Signs everywhere telling you where you're allowed to go and where not.
Deafened periodically by fake calm voices warning you about leaving your life un-attended.
People milling about desperately clutching their crumpled boarding passes as if it was their personality.
And all balefully watched over by machines of unloving grace.
The air of despair and boredom seemed palpable.
It almost felt like most people had a "running fearfully from" rather than a "running joyously to" mentality.
Then standing in line at the gate desperately trying to be first to get into a tin tube filled with economy seats.
Seats? Torquemada would have taken one look at those bum numbing, elbow crushing instruments of torture and smiled.
Jamming your life into lockers and watching others brutally shove theirs in front of yours.
Having a lower back massage for hours provided by the manic kid behind you.
Drinking excessively to drown out the crying children and trying to sleep through the torture.
Arriving at yet another airport virtually indistinguishable from the first.
Frantically pushing through the mindless milling mass to get to the exit.
Oh yes.
I hate airports.
I weep for humanity.

What's your nomination for the worlds worst airport building?
Terminal 4 Heathrow?
The James Watson building LA?