WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH AIRPORTS?


MY FIRST-EVER AIRPLANE TRIP was in 1974, from Boston to Washington, D.C., on an American Airlines 727.  I was eight years old.  The photo above was taken by my mother.  It shows me and my sister walking up the stairs to that airplane.  There are some definite date markers in that shot.  The haircuts, the clothes.  And the old-timey air-stairs instead of the modern jet bridge.

Many of the overseas routes I fly find me at airports that still employ those drive-up stairs, and I always get a thrill from them.  There’s something dramatic about stepping onto a plane that way: the ground-level approach along the tarmac followed by the slow ascent.  The effect is like the opening credits of a film — a brief, formal introduction to the journey.  By contrast, the jet bridge makes the plane itself almost irrelevant; you’re merely in transit from one annoying interior space (terminal) to another (airplane cabin).

But forget stairs for a minute.  The airport has become a disappointing, bewildering, even maddening place for a whole host of reasons.  There is much to be found in the modern-day terminal to enrage, confuse, or vex the average traveler. Where to begin?

Consider, for instance, the widespread phenomenon of adolescent girls carrying gigantic fluffy pillows onto airplanes.  When did this start, and how did it become so popular?  Granted it’s a helpful idea now that many carriers no longer dispense even tiny, non-fluffy pillows.  The trouble is, people like me are out of the club.  Grown-up men can’t walk through airports with gigantic fluffly pillows unless we’re willing to get laughed at.  We’re stuck with those inflatable neck brace things.  And we wonder: do the girls keep their pillow for an entire vacation, or is it discarded on arrival and replaced with a new pillow for the trip home?

Almost as confounding is the mania of Sudoku, this generation’s answer to crossword puzzles and easily the number one pastime of bored flyers.  I’m not saying the game isn’t challenging.  But so is solving quadratic equations, or sword-swallowing.  That doesn’t mean we should all be doing it.  People enjoy Sudoku, I suspect, because it requires a lot of thinking, but only from a small and highly specialized corner of the mind.  It’s very egalitarian, in a way, because it’s an entirely left-brain exercise with a single and absolute solution. (I can’t help thinking of my favorite movie of the 1980s, Terry Gilliam’s “Brazil,” in which mind-numbed citizens of Gilliam’s sick dystopia entertained themselves with a small, toy-like device that dropped a pendant onto a board, randomly indicating a result of “yes,” or “no.”)  And you can be a failure at Sudoku without guilt.  Crossword puzzles make you feel bad about yourself for not knowing the capital of Canada or forgetting the name of a Shakespeare play.  Sudoku is numbers, and for most people there’s a lot less shame in being lousy at numbers.

However, the most alarming trend to strike airports in the past half-century has nothing to do with games, pillows, suicide hijackings, surly service or intimate pat-downs from the TSA.  No, the most troubling thing about airports is noise.

If American airports need to borrow one idea from their counterparts in Europe and Asia, it’s that passengers need not be bombarded by a continuous loop of useless and redundant public address announcements.  Security alerts, boarding calls, traffic and parking directives — all playing simultaneously.  At some airports this sonic layering is unbearable.  I have heard up to four announcements playing at once, rendering all of them unintelligible in a hurricane of noise.

Furthermore, we must seek and destroy every last one of those infernal gate-side monitors blaring CNN Airport Network.  These yammering hellboxes are everywhere, and they cannot be turned off.  There is no button, no power cord, no escape.  Not even airport workers know how to shut them up.  I have a feeling that somewhere out there is a survey in which a majority of travelers insist that they enjoy and appreciate the chance to watch TV at the gate.  That may well be true, and I am not suggesting they be denied this privilege outright.  But a license to entertain and a license to harass are different things.  If the TVs have a right to be there, so shouldn’t the right to get the heck away from them if one desires.  That’s what’s missing. (And while not to overdo it, isn’t there something creepy and Orwellian about TV sets that can’t be silenced?)

Arrivals hall at Kotoka International Airport, Accra, Ghana.     Photo by author.

Then you’ve got the shrieking kids, the beeping carts, the cellphone chatter and so on.  It’s a multi-front attack that, short of applying headphones or earplugs is inescapable, seeping into every nook and corner of the terminal, at all hours of the day or night.

Ironically, the actual loudest things at an airport — airplanes themselves — are almost never heard, buffered behind glass and concrete.  And it’s not until stepping aboard your plane that you finally find some peace.  The transition from terminal to cabin is almost palpable.  So long as there isn’t a baby nearby, the cabin is a welcome sanctuary of sudden quiet.  (And for exactly this reason we all should be concerned about any proposals that would allow the use of cell phones while aloft.)

But never mind all the things about airports that shouldn’t be there.  What about the things that ought to be, but are missing?  In places like Singapore and Munich and Amsterdam we find swimming pools, movie theaters, complimentary baggage carts.  With few exceptions, Americans haven’t figured out how to build a proper terminal.  We fail at aesthetics, we fail at amenities, and we fail at the relatively simple task of moving people efficiently from A to B.

The following list was inspired by a layover I spent not long ago at Incheon International Airport, serving Seoul, Korea.  Incheon is maybe the most efficient, functional, and overall flyer-friendly airport I’ve ever been to.  It’s cavernous and spotlessly clean, with a cathedral like calm throughout.  Security and immigration are a breeze; the staff at the multi-lingual information desks are disarmingly helpful.  Amenities include a free internet cafe, luggage storage, cellphone rental desks, a post office, a massage room, even a small museum.  There’s a business center, transit hotel, and a tour desk that arranges quickie excursions for connecting passengers.  It got me thinking… why can’t every airport be like this?

FIFTEEN THINGS NO TERMINAL SHOULD BE WITHOUT:

1. A convenient, fast, low-cost public transportation link to downtown.

In a way, choosing a favorite airport is akin to choosing a favorite hospital: amenities aside, nobody really wants to be there in the first place, and the easier and faster you can get the hell out, the better. Why can’t American airports have public transport links similar to those across Asia and Europe? In Hong Kong, the sleek, high-speed Airport Express train is literally steps from the arrival and departure halls. Within a half-hour of landing you can be alighting at Kowloon or Hong Kong island — without ever having stepped outside. Returning to the airport, you can check in your bags and get your seat assignment right there at the downtown station. Tokyo-Narita, Kuala Lumpur, Seoul have similar set-ups, not to mention Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Munich…

Even our most expensive efforts are half-assed by comparison. Compare the best of Asia, with, for example, my hometown airport, Boston-Logan. My commute to the airport by public transportation takes almost an hour and requires two changes, including a ride on the Silver Line bus, which in addition to being at the mercy of automobile traffic requires, at one point, that the driver step out and manually switch power sources. Or how about JFK, where for hundreds of millions dollars they finally got the AirTrain completed — an inter-terminal rail loop that can’t take you beyond the Queens subway. Heck, it can take 45 minutes, up and down a byzantine array of escalators, elevators and passageways, just to get from one terminal to another, let alone all the way to Manhattan.

Alas, the decent examples of Portland, Oregon and Washington-Reagan notwithstanding, this is a far-fetched idea for most American airports; we may as well wish for a grove of trees sprouting hundred dollar bills.  But let us dream.

2. Complimentary wireless internet

What do we do at airports?  We kill time.  And there are few better and more productive ways of killing time than logging on to the Web. Send an email to your mistress; read my column at Salon; Skype your friend in Slovenia.  Many, if not most major terminals do have Wi-Fi access, but it’s often expensive and cumbersome (few things in life are more irritating than those credit card payment pages). It should be everywhere, and it should be free.  And how about a splash page that, or a change, contains useful information, like arrival and departure times or an interactive map of the terminal?

3. Convenience stores

It appears the evolution of the international airport will not be complete until the terminal and shopping mall become indistinguishable. I’m okay with Starbucks and souvenir kiosks, but it’s the saturation of high-end boutiques that always confounds me. Apparently there isn’t a traveler alive who isn’t in dying need of a Mont Blanc pen or a thousand-dollar massage chair. And what’s with all the luggage stores? Who in the world buys a suitcase after they get to the airport? What we really need are the same sorts of things we buy at the corner convenience store.  Wouldn’t it be nice to grab some sunscreen before your flight to the Caribbean?  Or how about, after claiming your luggage, the chance to pick up some bread and milk, eliminating that annoying stop on the late-night drive home?  Better: a convenience store with a pharmacy.

Supermarket at Brussels airport, Belgium.     Photo by author.

4. Power ports

I didn’t realize that passengers have a right — nay, a duty — to mooch free electricity from their carrier of choice, but at this point it’s a lost cause to argue otherwise.  Airlines should throw in the towel and build more charging stations.

5. Showers and a short-stay hotel

Another amenity that is common overseas but sorely lacking in North America. No serious international terminal should be without a place to wash up and/or crash for a few hours.  Passengers arriving from overseas can shower and change before their next connection.  Those with longer waits can grab a nap in one of those pay-by-the-hour sleeping pods.

6. Play areas for children

Truth be told, airport play areas encourage toddlers to shriek and yell even more than they already do, but at least they’re doing it in one little concentrated area that is easy for the rest of us to avoid.  Ideally this spot should be in a soundproofed bubble six miles from the airport, but an open space at the far end of the concourse is a reasonable alternative.  The Delta terminal at Boston-Logan has the coolest kidport I’ve seen.  I’d play there myself if nobody was watching.

7. ATMs

Their placement is sporadic, and they always seem to be on the wrong side of security.  We want more of them, on both sides. Machines that dispense foreign currency are especially helpful in terminals with international flights.

International Airport Galileo Galilei, in Pisa, Italy.     Photo by author.

8. Better dining options — i.e. fewer chain restaurants

Chick-fil-A, Burger King, Sbarro’s.  Airport cuisine isn’t a whole lot different from the shopping mall food court.  In most places it’s exactly the same.  We need more independent restaurants, ideally with a local bent. 

The next time you’re at LaGuardia, check out Rocco Manniello’s Yankee Clipper restaurant over at the Marine Air Terminal.  It’s a cafeteria-style place on the left-hand side of the old rotunda, beneath the famous James Brooks “Flight” mural. It’s good greasy spoon food with absolutely no corporate affiliation.  (If Anthony Bourdain ever does a “No Reservations” episode on airport food, this should be his first stop.) The Marine Air Terminal was the launching point of the first-ever transatlantic and around-the-world flights, and the walls of the Yankee Clipper are decorated with historic photographs.

9. An information kiosk

How do I get to the Yankee Clipper restaurant?  Where is the nearest ATM?  Where is the nonexistent subway link to the city?  Every arrivals hall ought to have personnel who can give directions, hand out free maps, make change, and so on.

10. A place to send mail and buy postage

One of the most annoying last minute tasks before heading on vacation is stopping by the mailbox with bills and small packages.  What if you could send them from the airport?  And after checking in for your flight home, writing and mailing some postcards is a great time-killer.  If a full-service post office is asking too much, at least give us a mailbox and stamp machine.

Cheddi Jagan International Airport in Georgetown, Guyana.     Photo by author.

11.  A bookstore

Reading on planes is a natural, am I right? Why then is it so bloody hard to find a proper bookstore at an airport? Not all of us pre-load our reading material on a Kindle. Not long ago almost every major airport had a proper bookseller. Nowadays they are harder and harder to find, and often what passes as a bookstore is really just a newsstand hawking a very thin selection of bestsellers, business books, thrillers and pop-culture trash. Believe it or not, travelers’ tastes extend beyond Sudoku, Suze Orman, and the latest CEO autobiography.

12. Sufficient gate-side seating

If the plane at the gate holds 250 people, there ought to be a minimum of 250 chairs in the boarding lounge — not 100, not 150.  There is something uncivilized about having to sit on the floor while waiting to board.  Do we sit on the floor when waiting for a table in a restaurant?  Do we sit on the floor at the doctor’s office?  (When the Singapore’s award-winning Changi airport was built, the gates were outfitted with no fewer than 420 chairs, matching the number of seats on the average 747.)

13. Art, greenery, and a little aesthetic flair

Again it’s depressing when you compare America’s airports to some of those overseas, many of which are architecturally marvelous. For instance the magnificent new Suvarnabhumi airport in Bangkok, Thailand. Its main terminal is the most visually spectacular airport building I have ever seen. At night, approaching by highway from downtown Bangkok, it looms out of the misty darkness like a goliath space station — a vision of glass and light and steel, its immense transoms bathed in blue spotlight. (I would love for the great Paul Goldberger, the Pulitzer Prize-winning architecture critic for the New Yorker, to do a series on airports, beginning with BKK.)

There is nothing comparable anywhere in America. On the contrary some of our most expensive airport renovations have been aesthetic flops. Take JFK’s terminal 5 for example, the much overhyped home of JetBlue. This $700 million building has to be one of the most disappointing airport projects of the last fifty years. The streetside facade is at worst cheerless; the tarmac side, on the other hand, is truly abominable — a low-slung, industrial-brutalist expanse. Once again here’s an airport looking like a shopping mall, except here it looks like the back of a shopping mall. All that’s missing are some pallets, dumpsters, and heaps of baled cardboard.
It’s a presentation of architectural nothingness, absolutely empty of inspiration — precisely what an airport terminal should not be. It’s ironic, and maybe a little depressing, that Eero Saarinen’s landmark TWA terminal, arguably the most distinctive airport facility ever built, sits directly in front of T5, itself part of the JetBlue complex. I’d like to tell you that T5 and Saarinen somehow compliment each other, but they don’t. If you ask me, T5 is a sad testament to a dwindling sense of American vision and imagination.

Artwork, meanwhile, offers a pleasant, mentally engaging distraction. It should be local, casual, perhaps with a travel theme — be it a temporary installation, or part of the overall design, like the terrazzo sea-life mosaics in the walkways at Boston-Logan. And how about a little horticulture? Flowers, shrubs, small trees — some in-terminal greenery helps soothe jangled nerves.

Suvaranabhumi Airport, Bangkok.     Photo by author


14.  Better escalators (and escalator etiquette)

The majority of Americans have no idea how to behave on an escalator. It’s supposed to work like this: If you’re not in a hurry, stand on the right and enjoy the ride, allowing those of us with a flight to catch to walk on the left.  Instead we stand in the middle, hogging up both sides.  But even if we wanted to ride them properly, escalators in America are too skinny, especially when you’re toting luggage.  If they were wider, the left/right thing would be more intuitive, and traffic would flow more freely.  Ditto for moving sidewalks.  As I’ve always understood it, the point of the moving sidewalk is to expedite your passage, not to indulge your laziness.  You’re not supposed to stand on it, you’re supposed to walk on it.  And to take yet another page from the Europeans and Asians, what prevents us from fitting them with a simple light-beam trigger that shuts off the motor when nobody is?  Our conveyors run constantly, riders or no riders, wasting huge amounts of energy.

15. A view!

Why are so many architects and designers intent on hiding the fact that airports are actually airports?  Why are so many efforts made to prevent you from ever catching glimpse of an airplane?  The gateside seating always faces away from the windows, and the windows themselves are sometimes intentionally opaqued or obstructed by barriers.  Why?  Instead of shopping or staring at one of those CNN chatterboxes, plenty of people would enjoy nothing more than the opportunity to sit and watch the planes go by.  You needn’t be an airplane buff to this find this relaxing, or even a little exciting.  As a bonus, more windows mean more natural light, which conserves power and is always welcome over harsh fluorescents.

At my hometown airport, Boston-Logan, there was once a spectacularly poised observation deck on the 16th floor of the control tower.  It featured opposing sides of knee-to-ceiling windows and the best view in town.  It’s a scant two miles from Logan’s perimeter seawall to the center of downtown, and you observed the city and its airport in a state of working symbiosis.  Passengers relaxed on carpeted benches while kids and families from came on the weekends, feeding coins into the mechanical binoculars and picnicking on the floor.  It helped made the airport a destination unto itself, like a park or a museum, and encouraged a kind of civic togetherness seldom seen any more.

You can still find observation decks here and there, usually in Europe.  Boston’s is gone though.  It was shuttered in 1989, ostensibly for security reasons.

Art Deco Doors of the Marine Air Terminal, LaGuardia Airport.     Photo by author.