AIRPORT PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE (OR, "THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF GOD...")

"Patience is not simply the ability to wait - it's how we behave while we're waiting."  
                                                                   - author Joyce Meyer






We've all had bad days, many of which may take place at an airport. Let's face it: airports are ripe for bad-dayage in many ways. 

But maturity tends to bring a bit more patience and when we're confronted by a challenge we respond with more of a "okay, so how do we fix this" instead of the more youthful "it's YOUR fault and you need to fix it NOW!"

Most of us, that is.

A couple of years ago I was on my way from Long Beach to Las Vegas, and rather than drive I made the decision to fly. Time-wise it would take longer, but it would give me time to do a little work as well as not be concerned with spending nine hours (round trip) on the road. But fate can be a bitch when she wants to be, and the most convenient flight to Vegas wasn't a JetBlue direct flight, but a USAir (*now American) indirect flight through Phoenix.

Phoenix is not, for the record, my favorite airport, and I've learned to navigate it pretty well and never missed a connection. Sky Harbor is a leviathan of an airport, and gates are often ten or fifteen minutes apart, depending upon the crowd you encounter upon arrival.

Phoenix International

I arrive in Phoenix and it's a mess. Rush hour and tens of thousands of people thronging their way through the walkways between gates. I make my way to my connecting gate well ahead of time and start looking around for a place to sit. That's when I notice the very long line at the gate counter, and I look up at the flight information to note that my flight is delayed by a couple of hours.

It happens, but it's never a fun thing. As I'm settling in for the long run I overhear that another flight to Las Vegas has been canceled,  and they're trying to rebook as many passengers as possible on this flight. Again, it happens, but it's never a fun thing. At least the flight is a short one and the compressed cabin will be only a brief test of passenger endurance.

The ZEN of Flying...and waiting

I note, however, that the additional delay has not gone over well with a handful of the people from the earlier canceled flight. One man, in particular, seems very agitated. He and a couple of other passengers grumble loudly and head off "to the bar".

Two hours later we get additional bad news.

The aircraft we expected to board has been  pulled for maintenance. The air conditioning isn't functioning correctly and the inside of the jet is over 100F. Ouch.

(Now, I will say up front and freely that if an airline wants to pull an aircraft for maintenance they have my FULL and unwavering support. If they're not comfortable with putting it in the air, I'm not comfortable boarding. Delays are no problem, provided we work together to get me where I need to go.)

The expected time for them to get another aircraft adds another hour to our delay. Ugh. Three hours total. Luckily I don't have any appointments in Vegas that afternoon, though this means we'll be arriving at around 6pm instead of the expected 3.

The promised land

Oh. And we're moving gates from the very end of one PHX terminal, to one about halfway up the adjacent terminal wing. Only about a five minute walk. As a large group. Lots of grumbling and unhappiness, and I note the agitated guy is nowhere to be seen. Likely still in the bar, which is not good news.

We get to the gate and at this point I've started talking to some of the other passengers who are themselves frequent flyers. (Frequent flyers kinda recognize each other. It's a weird experience, but you can see them in the way they stand and the way they respond to the terminal around them. Can't really explain.) (Well, that and we tend to have the smaller carry-on bags.)

We buckle down at the new gate, and it turns out several people noted Mr Agitation. And we're all wondering what will happen when he gets back to the gate to discover we've all left without him. There have been numerous announcements of the gate change, so maybe he heard it from the overhead.

Decaf...

No such luck. Twenty minutes or so later he appears at the desk, yelling at the gate crew about the changes and delays. No amount of explanation is going to help, and the fact that everything is out of their control means nothing to him. He leaves, loudly, and is still angrily talking up a storm as he sits down.

A few minutes later an aircraft we are told is from the maintenance area pulls into the gate. The flight crew will go on board to check the systems and begin readying the aircraft for flight. A half-hearted cheer goes up.

And then it happens. You can see nobody at the counter wants to make the announcement. Finally the senior person gets on the overhead to let us know that, ahem, the aircraft isn't fueled and we'll need to wait until the jet fuel company can bring over a tanker truck and fill 'er up.

Just say "no"

Predictably there are more comments from Mr Agitation. He departs again "for the bar".

(Side note: you can see where this is going. Strong recommendation from anyone who flies regularly is "if things get hairy, DO NOT drink alcohol". Just sayin'.)

The truck and Mr Agitation arrive back at the gate at around the same time, and we're told, via overhead, that it will take about ten minutes to compete the refueling and we would probably start to board. This is too much for Mr A, and he storms the desk, screaming and cursing in a way that would embarrass even a sailor.

The gate personnel try desperately to cool the situation, but it's not working. He retreats but then reconfronts the staff. Eventually -- all this occurring as the other passengers watch the entertainment wishing we had popcorn -- security is summoned and he is questioned. Voices are lowered. He realizes the very thin ice he's on, and he agrees to calm down. Security hangs around just in case.


Minutes later, to an honest cheer and clap, we're told we're boarding, and my group is called first (the benefits of frequent flying..). The two guys I've been talking to also queue up and we're passed through to take our seats. The rest of the process is going relatively smoothly, when Mr A boards and loudly announces "It's about fucking time!", apparently assuming the rest of us are on his side.

No need to be like that

Personal Note: 

"Dear Mr. A,

Not on your side.

The Passengers"

Mr A disappears into the rows behind me, dragging a larger-than-permitted "carryon".

We wait for it. Amused glances from several of us who have bonded over Mr. A's tribulations. 

It takes just a moment. Then, from the back: "Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!" 

And boom, there he goes.

Voices, and finally calm. Mr A seems mollified. The flight attendance all are exchanging glances which tell us the story isn't finished.

Las Vegas

The last of the passengers board and the usual announcements are made. The head flight attendant keeps looking out up the jetway, and sure enough she gets on the overhead to announce one more brief delay. A slight second later two security officers board the plane and escort Mr A off to a fair round of applause.

The doors are closed and we finally taxi and lift off to Las Vegas. 


We arrive three and a half hours late, directly into the middle of a raging storm.

But that's a story for another time.

NOW WAIT JUST A MINUTE, MR. TRUMP

 

  

"Our airports are like from a Third World country." - Donald Trump







I don't often find myself wanting to get political in my column, but the above quote from Donald Trump, the Republican candidate for the Presidency of the United States demands a response from any and all reasonable travel professionals.

Trump, who likely possesses only a very limited knowledge of airports (more on that in a moment) - and actually has a grudge against one of them - seems to believe the quality of our domestic facilities are virtually "Third World". Granted, he seemed to be directing his attention to New York City's airports, but made a blanket statement mudding the rest of the country's facilities in the process.

Mr Trump obviously flies. A lot. So much so, he has his own plane. He would likely tell you it's a wonderful plane. A Beautiful plane. A plane better than anybody else's plane.

I've seen his plane. It certainly looks nice. It was parked on the tarmac at a private gate facility at LAX when I saw it. Not at a regular terminal. A terminal designed for private aircraft like Trump's.

This is where his authority begins to sag. Mr Trump doubtless flies into a lot of airports. But from there his perceptions are seriously suspect. Like most high-value celebrities he doesn't use the same facilities we "regular" travelers do. He doesn't go through the same terminals, he doesn't use the same TSA checkpoint, he doesn't sit down at one of the airport's restaurants or lounges.

He simply hasn't bothered to do so...it may be "beneath" him...and yet claims to have enough knowledge of our national airports that he can describe them in deliberately insulting terms.

Bullshit. I'll call it.

First: How would he know? Yes, I know he often uses the suggestion "people are saying" or some other dodge, but that's the mind of a ten year old covering for their own lack of knowledge. Trump doesn't use the airport facilities I do, or you do for that matter. (Unless the reader is Warren Buffett or Mark Cuban, at which point I apologize for my presumption.) HIs perspective is suspect from the start.

Second: Other than LaGuardia, which may be the very airport he is trying to describe here, most of America's airports are equal to other First World facilities in other countries. 

I know.  I have the requisite perspective.

In the last five years I've been to Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Mexico, The United Kingdom, Italy and France. Heathrow,  Roma, Nice, De Gaulle. Vancouver. Auckland. Melbourne, Sydney, Perth. A decade ago I went through Schiphol Airport in the Netherlands.

All "First World" countries with "First World" facilities.

In those same five years I've been through Phoenix, Dulles, Reagan National, BWI, JFK, Miami, Tampa, Seattle, Portland, Las Vegas, San Francisco, Oakland, Honolulu, Long Beach, LAX, San Diego, Orange Country and dozens of others. 

So, yes. I'm a little bit of an authority on airport facilities. 

Trump is wrong. Dead wrong.

I am not saying America's airports are perfect. Far from it. I've railed against issues in the past and will do so again in the future. There are problems. But Third World? I question whether Mr Trump has even BEEN to a third world country, let alone gone through their airport's main terminal.

If you have little or no experience with something, then keep your mouth shut. 

Or, as Abraham Lincoln once noted: "It is far better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt."

Rapid City, SD

Washington Dulles

Kennedy Airport, New York

Portland, OR

Long Beach, CA

And many more....

Pic of the Day: Travel

A little later this morning I'm running my first Travel Photography workshop at Tuttle Cameras here in my home town of Long Beach. In honor of that, here is a photograph dedicated to the topic.

There is nothing quite like the energy of a very early morning departure for a trip, whether it's a road trip, a flight, or something else entirely. Heading out on the grand adventure is the key, and it can only be found outside your front door.

Pic of the Day: More than Two Hours Before Your Flight

I admit. There are days when even I know I've gotten to the airport a little early.

Honolulu International

Pic of the Day: Alone at the Counter

Eating at many airports is a lonely affair for the solitary traveler.

Lone Diner, Hungry Jack's, Melbourne International Airport.

THE EXPLORER IN ME

"What intrigues me the most are those things in the distance, on the horizon. That is where I want to go; what I want to see next."

As I write this I am on a Westbound flight from Charlotte, North Carolina, to Dallas. There I'll make a connection to my eventual destination of Santa Ana -- more commonly known as John Wayne Orange County Airport.

Me in Japan, ca 1965

Join Wayne is my second preferred airport in the LA metropolitan area, at a time when my definition of "preferred" has a different meaning than it did a decade or so ago. Back then I didn't really give much thought to which airport I was using, just the flights and getting to the destinations involved. If I needed to get from Point A to Point Z I simply selected the flight and made my way to whichever airfield the arrangements required.

Atop Mt Haleakala

In many cases this default airport was LAX. And to give the giant monster its due: there is an excitement and energy level in flying from LAX that doesn't really exist at the smaller fields. But it's not just size -- I don't get the same "vibe" from equally large facilities such as DFW or PHX. But I do from others like MSP or JFK. 

(My favorite airport, Long Beach, was at the time still involved in a decade-long local legal morass on noise reduction -- which seriously hampered any airline from doing much, basically killing it as an option for me...thankfully that's no longer the case.)

The Mendenhall Glacier

The ruins at Tulum

I'm certain it's a personal perception, and once again I have to look to my childhood for influence and guidance. I truly believe so many of my ingrained more visceral responses to travel come from my early years. I've alluded more than a few times to the influence movies and television had on my perception of the world. James Bond; Casablanca (despite being filmed in a studio); Lawrence of Arabia; It Takes a Thief; The Saint; I, Spy and other globetrotting tv programs and films gave me my first true look at the world beyond my front door, and I learned an excitement that came from realizing that I, too, could visit all those exotic places. 

(It didn't hurt that my parents were fans of those sorts of programs. Their influence was more profound than television, though more subtle in many ways. Dad, who was a career Naval officers, would send us postcards and pictures from around the globe as his various deployments took him from one exotic port to another. Hong Kong still looms large in my imagination precisely because he and my mother met there a few times while we kids sat at home, dreaming of what it must be like. It's still on my NOW list to this day.)

Polar Bears on the tundra

Then came things -- worldwide news events like The Olympics -- which showed me in realtime what the world looks like. And the nightly news, when "nightly news" actually meant News and not Entertainment. The Huntley-Brinkley Report was the family go-to, and their reporters around the world again brought exotic places and unpronounceable names right into our family room. 

Times Square

Today the world seems to have become much smaller. Much more everyday. The popularizing of air travel, and the ubiquity of broadcast programming, means things are becoming a bit more homogenous. Unless you looks specifically for the differences, Des Moines isn't all that different than Charlotte, except for the plants. 

Alleys in Croatia

(On this particular trip I stayed in a very nice Marriott, and had dinner at a very nice regional chain restaurant -- both of which were not terribly different from places I stayed at and dined at in places like Seattle or Albuquerque. Quite nice, but nothing that screamed "you're in the South!", even though the restaurant billed itself that way...)

But exploring the world still holds a mystique if you know where to go and where to look. 

The Great Barrier Reef

Travel expands the mind, or so the saying goes. I have yet to meet very many open-minded travelers who are not citizens of the world and who understand that what exists outside their front door is only an infinitesimally small part of the whole. 

As I sit here at 35,000 feet I look down at the world below, one which I have only just begun to explore, and wonder at what is down there. What cool stuff lies unexplored and waiting for me? 

That is what I want to find out and what drives me to my next destination.

That and the coffee, that is.

Driving in the Mojave Desert volcanic fields

Hell, Cayman Islands

The Explorer in Me - Where next?

Pic of the Day: THE EMPTY AIRPORT

As a traveler, I understandably spend a significant amount of time in airports. I've blogged about them before.

Last August I was in Honolulu for a meeting. Hurricane Iselle was, simultaneously, making a head-on approach to the islands. My flight out was scheduled for 11pm, and the general assumption was that the hurricane would disrupt air travel -- and, indeed, ended up canceling flights that night.

I arrived at HNL several hours before my flight, figuring the place would be a madhouse.

Not so much.

(Incidentally, our flight was the last out of HNL that night, after two other flights had actually canceled because of the oncoming storm. Our pilot quite correctly considered it would be a bit bumpy on the outset, but not too bad afterward. Everyone else got to spend the night at the airport....)

Pic of the Day: Small Plane Warning

I have flown pretty much the entire spectrum of airliners in use by American airline carriers, and a few international ones. Boeing, Airbus, CRJs and Embraer. And I think a Cessna, once. In Alaska.

Big jets (747, A380), small ones (CRJ700, MD80), and almost  everything in-between. Each of them has their own personality, and each of them contributes something different to the in-flight experience.

But there is a sense of adventure -- fear? -- in flying a smaller aircraft. Particularly when it's a blustery day.

Below is a shot of the plane I took from Salt Lake City to Pocatello, Idaho. Pocatello is among the smallest of airports I've been to in the last few years, if not the champion. But it does echo more of a byegone era of commercial aviation when you enter a small terminal and march out directly onto the Tarmac to board a small plane. (It's a balancing act Long Beach Airport manages even today with significantly larger aircraft, while still reminding you of the adventure of flight in general.)

Small aircraft are not my first choice, but they do always promise that the trip will be a bit of an adventure.