Ramblings of a Travelling Man: An Airport Security Story

Something a bit different for you all this bank holiday weekend, an airport security story.

You're cutting it fine, the time is 10am, your flight is at 11am. You're the wrong side of airport security, but the sign says there is just a five minute queue. Excellent you think to yourself, I may even have time to grab something overpriced and wrapped in plastic.

Pain...

Through the ticket check, done. Round a couple of blind corners, well that doesn't look too bad, there's about a dozen people in front of me. You, the seasoned traveller knows the drill. You start taking off your watch in preparation for the scanner. You think about taking your shoes off, but you remember that you're not in the USA, and that'd make you look ridiculous.

Now, as is always the case, all realms of human society disintegrates right in front of you. One woman has decided that she has never heard of post 9/11 security checks and wants to take through every bathroom related liquid she has. Another, tries to walk through the scanner with their belt still on. A family of four tries to tame one of their children into not taking things off the trays that does not belong to them.

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In this moment you see your chances of making your flight slipping away. The next flight isn't until tomorrow. You bring up Skyscanner (other flight search engines are available), how about if I connect via Oslo, could that work?

The family clear through, shuffling the queue down. If they process a person a minute, there are 12 people in front of me, that should give me around 45 minutes before departure. But you know the gate could close at any time. You bring up your phone, you gaze at the gate, you've flown from here before, bus gate. far end of the terminal. Bugger, I won't make this.

Do I ask to skip the queue? Do I want to bring that attention to myself? Could I make it regardless? You decide not to make a scene. Instead, lets passive aggressively nudge forward, willing those in front of you to storm the scanner like Area 51.

One by one, they make their way through. You're next up, 45 minutes until your flight. You take half an expectant stride, but the person controlling the queue stops you in your tracks. Shift handover time, now you must wait for the congregation to reform. The gaggle who were manning the station depart, in quite the hurry. No one comes. Do you blame them? This can't be a great job, how excited would you be to start another shift treating people like terrorists for having 150ml of face cream, not 100ml, the horror. They trickle in, one carrying a coffee, another a Redbull.

You check your watch, 40 minutes to go. You're beckoned to the tray station, iPad and belt in hand. Commandant tries to get your attention, but you're too busy trying to get your tray onto the overly congested belt. It's on, you're through. The bag is making its way through the scanner, it pops out, it takes a turn to the left, away from you. A member of staff looks at your bag in disgust as this will break their game of Candy Crush. You don't know why your bag was selected, the liquids were removed, iPad out, nothing should look suspicious in there. It just a bag swab, but this is eating precious minutes. You start to sweat, the member of security can sense it, but they've got the wrong end of the stick. I'm innocent, officer?

At last, you get your bag back, its 30 minutes to go. A departure board catches your eye, "GATE CLOSING". The belt can wait, I'll hike my trousers up. You start your run through duty free. Complimentary whiskey sample, no thanks. Spray of aftershave could come in handy, but you don't have time. You break out into the concourse, taking a left. 500m and down the steps, you know the deal. A1, A2, A3... a blur of easily distinguishable symbols. A10, you make it, down the steps, round the corner, finally you can catch your breath.

You scan your boarding pass, you look up, its a departure lounge. It's full. No buses have left. They lied. You could have got that sandwich.

Sam

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