Airports

The flights from Italy to any major hub always seem to park at the gate as far away as possible from where I next need to get to. The flight leaving Milan had been late and my boarding pass said I was supposed to board the Denver flight at 12:05 - a full hour before scheduled takeoff. I was puzzled by this, but I do what I'm told in airports, so I sprinted for a gate which turned out to be far, far away. I think I traversed the entire length of that wing of the terminal before arriving at a point where I had to change floors. There was a crowd in front of the two elevators, so I and many others elected to take the nearby stairs.

This was a mistake. We clattered down a dingy, featureless stairwell for the equivalent of at least four floors in any normal building, with no indication as to where we were going or how much further down it would be. Exiting the stairs, I found myself in front of a long tunnel with a moving walkway and a display of lights in changing colors which, along with soft music, was probably meant to be soothing.

As far as I knew, I didn't have time to enjoy the light show. I sprinted along the moving walkway, mentally cursing the people who don't know the "stand right, walk left" rule.

I had to go through passport control, slightly delayed behind a couple of American retirees who wanted to chat with the immigration official. I chafed at the delay, but was also amused. It's a very American trait to want to have friendly conversations in places and times that everyone else is anxious to escape.

Once t hrough passport control, I found myself in a large open space that smelled of cigarettes. A quick circuit of this hall showed that my gate was further yet, and the only food available was at the bar/café in the middle of the hall, crowded with smokers. The takeaway counter featured four or five types of sandwiches and some unappetizing-looking fruit. I bought a nüssbrodchen - a long sandwich roll made from bread with nuts (nüss) in it (I do love this aspect of German cuisine), stuffed with brie. It was advertised as also containing tomatoes, but upon closer inspection was found to have only one thin, lonely slice of a languid tomato.

In the caviar shop across the hall, I was delighted to learn that Lindt makes some intriguing varieties of chocolate that I have not yet seen in Italy. Besides my current favorite, Orange Intense (dark chocolate with slivers of almond and orange peel), they had a bar with orange and chocolate truffle cream, and a Kirsch Intense (dark chocolate with slivers of almond and cherry).

But I still wasn't at my gate, and the appointed hour ahead of takeoff time to be there had come. A few steps on, I realized why the long boarding time: there was extra security with a full body pat-down and hand baggage rescan for all flights to the US. The line was long, but moved quickly, with a man directing people to each of the 16 or so stations as soon as it was empty.

Each station was attended by a man and a woman, so you would be patted by a person of your own sex. I've never been sure that this is entirely comforting. I saw one woman getting a shoulder rub from her checker - never figured out why, but would have liked similar treatment myself! However, the woman who checked me had a dour expression and clearly would not have taken such a request with any humor.

Once through that checkpoint, there were several gates, one snack stall, and not enough restrooms. There was yet another checkpoint to get to the gate, where the airline staff checked passports (again) and took boarding cards. If you wanted to go to the restroom after that, you had to surrender your boarding card at the desk until you came back.

I hung around in the gate area for another 40 minutes (no seats left), observing my fellow passengers, who included three German couples in Harley-Davidson Owners' Club leathers, one with a logo saying "Lifetime Member".

Finally we boarded the plane. I was astonished to find that this Airbus had a downstairs. I've seen 747s with an upstairs before (even travelled in it a few times), but never any plane with a downstairs. The toilets and galley were there, and the video safety instructions mentioned that the waiting area had its own air masks in case of pressure drop. It had never before occurred to me to wonder: if I'm standing in line for a toilet and the pressure drops, what happens?

The Lufthansa plane was clean and unexceptionable, but I was disappointed by the lack of seat-back video, especially when people standing in the aisle (as they frequently did) completely blocked my view of the ceiling-mounted movie screens. Finding myself bored with the book I'd brought (Salman Rushdie's latest, "Shalimar the Clown") I strained to watch the two chick flicks on offer: "Words and Music" and "The Holiday." Neither were anything I'd have gone out of my way to see, but watchable enough under the circumstances.

Oh, and the food was awful. I was glad of the sandwich and chocolate bars I had brought. But the service was good, the staff warm and efficient, and that always counts for a lot with me.

what do you like/dislike in an airport?