Things that bug me: 1. Airport caravels.
I dislike airports generally. But one thing I really hate is the way people crowd around luggage conveyor belts in arrivals halls.
The “caravel jostle” is so unseemly and so unnecessary. There is always a bottleneck near the flap or ramp where cases appear from the baggage handling bay.
Everyone wants their case first. Some families hunt in packs where dad and the kids stand in file by the conveyor like a blocking line in gridiron football, while mum guards the luggage trolley. You see poor elderly ladies crowded to the fringe of the throng but even these old girls can get the elbow working when they spot their case.
Then there are those who panic, who must have their cases at all costs. Pushing, grabbing, gouging, anything goes to reach the case for fear of the agonising, unthinkable, consequences of failure: “IT MIGHT GO AROUND AGAIN!!!!”
The horror. The horror. Miss your case and it might go around again creating a five-minute delay in joining the traffic jam home. No one deserves to suffer luggage abuse of such appalling proportions.
Beyond those afflicted by the infectious panic there are the “black case obsessionals.” These are people who cannot distinguish their black cases from other black cases, so they check every label, sometimes turning promising items of luggage from the conveyor thereby sending a shudder of indignation along the lines of other black case owners.
Why don’t the black case worriers wrap their cases in yellow bands? That would make identification far too easy. Besides it would carry the risk that copycat band-wrappers would follow, thus restoring the confusion.
Of course – accepting that people would never do this themselves – the airport authority could create a pick up “buffer zone” by painting a red line a few feet from the caravel. A rule would allow people to step in to the zone to pick their case. A simple concept but deliciously fallible.
You can imagine people, having spotted their case 20 yards down the conveyor entering the zone to position themselves for the pick up, in doing so blocking access to those with nearer cases. The system would quickly dissolve into luggage anarchy. Asbos would be issued. Little old ladies would be jailed for assault. Airports would recruit caravel police and armed SWAT teams. Newspaper headlines would scream: “Case Wars!” and arrival lounges would be transformed in to no go areas. Stranger things have happened.
The “caravel jostle” is so unseemly and so unnecessary. There is always a bottleneck near the flap or ramp where cases appear from the baggage handling bay.
Everyone wants their case first. Some families hunt in packs where dad and the kids stand in file by the conveyor like a blocking line in gridiron football, while mum guards the luggage trolley. You see poor elderly ladies crowded to the fringe of the throng but even these old girls can get the elbow working when they spot their case.
Then there are those who panic, who must have their cases at all costs. Pushing, grabbing, gouging, anything goes to reach the case for fear of the agonising, unthinkable, consequences of failure: “IT MIGHT GO AROUND AGAIN!!!!”
The horror. The horror. Miss your case and it might go around again creating a five-minute delay in joining the traffic jam home. No one deserves to suffer luggage abuse of such appalling proportions.
Beyond those afflicted by the infectious panic there are the “black case obsessionals.” These are people who cannot distinguish their black cases from other black cases, so they check every label, sometimes turning promising items of luggage from the conveyor thereby sending a shudder of indignation along the lines of other black case owners.
Why don’t the black case worriers wrap their cases in yellow bands? That would make identification far too easy. Besides it would carry the risk that copycat band-wrappers would follow, thus restoring the confusion.
Of course – accepting that people would never do this themselves – the airport authority could create a pick up “buffer zone” by painting a red line a few feet from the caravel. A rule would allow people to step in to the zone to pick their case. A simple concept but deliciously fallible.
You can imagine people, having spotted their case 20 yards down the conveyor entering the zone to position themselves for the pick up, in doing so blocking access to those with nearer cases. The system would quickly dissolve into luggage anarchy. Asbos would be issued. Little old ladies would be jailed for assault. Airports would recruit caravel police and armed SWAT teams. Newspaper headlines would scream: “Case Wars!” and arrival lounges would be transformed in to no go areas. Stranger things have happened.
Labels: airport caravels, airports, Asbos, black case obsessionals, buffer zone, caravel jostle, case wars, gridiron football, luggage anarchy, obsessionals, SWAT team, yellow bands
posted by Richard Donkin at
10:06 AM
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