The Airport

It’s mid morning on a non-school-holiday weekday at the airport. There are still a lot of people, but it’s not a terrifying amount. The queue for Security is a snake of people shuffling left, then right, then left again. In the distance there is thumping and shouting. Is this what it’s like for animals in an abattoir?, I wonder.

I look at the people ahead and behind me as the queue inches its way forward.

Two women wearing face masks, the kind you would wear for sanding a piece of wood or doing other types of DIY. They are possibly a mother and daughter. The daughter is carrying a litre bottle of water. I mentally shake my head. She won’t be taking a liquid container of that size through security.

The young but very short couple who are wearing some kind of matching Christmas pyjamas. They are clutching their liquids bags already. Does she have a bottle of hot sauce in her liquids bag?

The group of three ‘lads’. I can tell they are lads from how they’re dressed and how they speak to each other. They’re probably off to see a football (soccer) game somewhere. No doubt,once they are through security they will head straight to the airport bar for some beers although it’s not yet midday.

The well dressed and organised blonde woman. She knows how this works. She has taken her coat off already and has it draped over her arm. Her plastic bag of liquids is in her hand ready to present at security screening. She wants to spend as little time here as possible.

The Italian man behind me. Well dressed of course, in the casual middle aged Italian man style, and wearing sunglasses even though we are inside a building. He is talking to someone non stop while we wait in the queue. (And as he is on my flight, I can confirm he is still talking until he boards the plane.)

The queue is long, but happily moves quickly.

“One plastic bag only,” shouts a security woman at the dull-faced people in front of her who are approaching the end of the queue and the x-ray screening. “One bag per person, this size only.” She holds up a standard bag to demonstrate.

The idea that there is a standard sized airport-approved plastic bag is news to the young family clutching two large and full zip lock plastic bags. They look panicked at having to resize their liquids into smaller bags while also wrangling their two small children.

The two young women standing at a table in the security area also must not have been aware of this standard single bag rule as they are trying to cram several plastic bags full of make up and skin care products into one small bag each. That’s not all going to fit. Something is going to have to go in the bin.

“All large electrical appliances to be removed from your bag,” says the man at the x-ray station. “That includes laptops, iPads, hair dryers, hair straighteners… yes ma’am I’m talking to you,” he nods to the woman next to me. “And to you too ma’am.”

The woman next to me has long thick hair that looks straightened and she is wearing a lot of makeup. I’m wearing my hair scraped back into a pony tail and a swipe of blush as an afterthought to give my face some definition in the absence of the softening presence of loose hair. I’m not sure why he thinks she and I have packed the same way for our trip.

I reckon it’s my hair clip makes the scanner go ping when I walk through. This means I go into the full body scanner and then am quickly touched over by a female security guard who tugs at my hair clip and nearly pulls it out. But I still get through to the other side of security faster than the mother and daughter with the face masks – something in their luggage has flagged their bag for inspection.

The short couple in pyjamas are also having their bag inspected. A large jar of Nutella seems to have upset the x-ray scanners. Does Nutella count as a liquid? I wonder as I walk past them.

What used to be the airport concourse has now become a long s-shaped curve of duty free shopping (perfume! makeup! sunglasses! alcohol!) followed by restaurants, coffee shops and yet more shops selling clothes and shoes and handbags. There doesn’t seem to be anywhere to sit anymore that isn’t going to cost you money.

We are travelling on a budget airline that charges for almost everything except oxygen and use of the bathrooms. This is why we are travelling with rucksacks, and not a little suitcase. Even if the little suitcase is cabin baggage sized, this airline will charge you extra to bring it on board. A rucksack that fits under the seat in front is all that you get for free.

At the gate, we watch the queue form for priority boarding. A good 60% of the flight have paid for priority boarding. Priority boarding lets you get on the plane first but more importantly allows you to take your cabin-sized bag on board and use the overhead lockers as well as bring a rucksack.

Boarding takes a long time and us non-priority passengers don’t start boarding until the flight’s expected departure time.

“All passengers travelling to Pisa, we are closing the flight now,” the woman at the ticket check desk shouts at us as we stand in the boarding queue. I take a deep breath. What the hell? “…so please join the queue for boarding.”

“FFS,” mutters Husband. “What does she think we are doing here?”

We are seated apart on the plane. We could have sat together and chosen our seats – for a fee – but we resent this airline’s “charge for everything” business model and refuse to pay for anything we don’t have to.

“Please terminate the call, sir,” I see one of the cabin crew leaning over the seats a few rows in front of me. The plane has just pushed out from the terminal. “I can’t speak to anyone sir, I’m not having this conversation. The plane is moving. She has missed the flight.”

I can’t hear the man’s reply but the cabin crew repeats her message. “Phone use is not allowed while the plane is in motion. Please end the call sir, and let me do my job.”

The man grumpily complies. I wonder what happened that the woman he was travelling with missed the plane. Maybe she never intended to take the flight. Maybe she overslept. Maybe she was looking at things in the duty free and didn’t release the time. Maybe she had a sudden onset stomach bug and was crouched in sweating pain in an airport toilet somewhere.

The plane gathers speed. It never feels fast enough but then there is a sudden lurch that leaves your stomach on the ground while your body takes to the sky. There are a few seconds of giddiness when your head and stomach and body seem to be in different places and then they snap back together.

We are flying!