Published Messenger Newspapers, Adelaide, Wednesday, April 10, 2002


TERMINAL CASE OF AIRPORT BLUES


SINCE the shameful demise of Ansett, along with the loss of my 170,000 frequent flyer points and membership of the Golden Wing Club, I recently found myself aimlessly wandering the perfumed terrazzo halls of Sydney Airport. It could be worse. I know someone who had saved over a million points for a round-the-world first class trip for his family. All gone. Another acquaintance, a Qantas Club member, tells me the crush in the Qantas lounge now is impossible. Damn shame and, stretched out almost by myself in the public area, I rather enjoyed the thought of hundreds of Qantas Club members paying extra for the privilege of being packed like sardines in their ``exclusive'' lounge. Airport terminals are such odd places, with all the superficial glitz of a shopping centre - cosmetics, electronics, music, jewellery, newsagents, souvenirs, fast food and booze - yet no-one goes there specifically to shop, not me anyway. They exist merely to move large numbers of people in and out of the place. Noone stays longer than they need and why would they? Queues, rudeness, ripoffs, exhaustion and boredom - airports are among my least favourite places. Worse, lengthy delays are inevitable and seem to be getting worse, especially in Sydney where waiting 40 minutes for a cab outside the Qantas terminal is not unusual at peak times. Another thing: Perhaps it is just me but I always sense an underlying mood of anxiety, edginess and despondency at airports. Which would make them ideal locations for Defence Force recruitment centres. And having to endure someone else's shouted mobile phone conversation does not improve matters: "G'day, mate, yeah, at the airport ... yeah, that used to happen to me old XC ... heh-heh ... yep, heh-heh ... d'ya have the steel caps on, didja? ... heh-heh ... no, no, I've got one of those internet bookings and can't change the flight ... ha-ha-ha.'' Even tenor Andreas Bocelli, after the third repeat of the same songs on the sound system, becomes deeply irritating although, at two hours, I had stayed in the Sydney terminal longer than most other passengers and the security cameras no doubt were keeping their unblinking eye trained on me by then. Finally taxiing away from the Qantas terminal - late again - I looked to the left and, through a typical Sydney downpour, passed the Ansett terminal in darkness. Sad. Ansett's service standards could sometimes be woeful - their telephone answering system was a shocker - but for the life of me I do not understand how their star fell so quickly and completely. It also probably means a new domestic terminal will not be built in Adelaide in my lifetime. To be honest, I quite like our airport just the way it is, yes, even walking across the tarmac in a rain squall. So Adelaide.