Tuesday, December 23, 2008

traveling hours

It was the Friday before Christmas. At a time when even the sun wasn't ready to say hello to the new day yet, I had to pry myself from the warm and comfortable cocoon that is my bed, peeling the sheets off one by one before getting up and setting off into the approaching morning. It was not only dark outside but also numbingly cold.

The night before had been short. A lab had organized a Christmas party for everyone working in the building and asked them to bring their friends. Music, booze and merriment were provided in copious quantities, and included in the meager entrance fee. With such ingredients it is easy to predict that a rough edge would develop as the night progressed. And indeed, helping you ease into the serene spirit of the holidays is not what English office parties are meant to do. There are always plenty of revelers that take the occasion to make up for all the parties they didn't go to and to consume all the drinks they were too reasonable to drink throughout the year.

I had taken it easy, but after just a bit more than three hours of sleep, I must have looked like I've had too much. I certainly felt that my rightful place was in bed. But I had to get to Hammersmith to catch the first tube – leaving at 5:27 – to Heathrow. For this I was too early. As the train was meticulously on time, I spent a good quarter hour at the platform, recalling the macchiatos and cappuccinos I've had over the past few days to keep me warm with memory.

Heathrow is a disaster. This used to be an absolute truism, an opinion shared by all, too trivial to deserve words and certainly up to discussion. Some say things changed with the opening of Terminal 5. Initially, to everyone's surprise and shock, they got worse. The chaos that ensued when baggage-handling computers broke down cannot be described. Now that the early glitches have been smoothened, Terminal 5 is by far the nicest airport space in London.

Flying from Terminal 2, I didn't expect too much, but I didn't fear much either. At six in the morning, travelers should be scarce and the luggage drop and security checks swift. But when three Lufthansa flights are leaving within twenty minutes, all potential advantages of the early hour evaporate instantly. Lines are long and people frazzled, and an air of despondency hovers above all. The usual Heathrow experience evidently knows no off-peak hours.

Most depressing or most annoying, depending on my mood before I arrive, are the security checks. I hate their futility and ostentatious pretense. There is no rhyme or reason to these checks. They differ between countries and even between airports in the same country. Sometimes one has to go through several during one journey, though it would make more sense to get rid of opportunities for acquiring illicit or dangerous materials once inside the supposedly secure zone. What do they sell at the duty free shops anyway?

Have you have considered that your liquids are confiscated on the grounds of being potential explosives? Yet all are collected in one big bag where people are around. If there were any real danger, if there were even the remote possibility of an explosion, wouldn't you expect the security personnel to be a bit more careful with them? If you have a thousand little charges, you wouldn't put them all in one place so their power and destructiveness can multiply. How can I take security seriously as a passenger if the authorities don't take it seriously themselves?

Recently, a new screening policy was implemented. One is not required anymore to take the laptop from its bag and place it in a separate box to be x-rayed. The reason for the original policy was that the high density of laptops might mask weapons or dangerous tools next to the computer. Have laptops suddenly become less dense or x-rays more selectively permeating? Though I was tempted, I avoided a discussion with the screeners. Arguing, even constructive criticism, is never appreciated at the airport.

In a weird way, I was upset I wouldn't be required to take my laptop out. I'm still so happy about my little Eee and feel so cool with it; I wouldn't have minded showing it to the entire world. It's a feeling very similar to when I got my ThinkPad, a computer I had been drooling over for months before I finally made the financial sacrifice required to own it. In between these two, I have felt the complete opposite. When I unpack my MacBook, I wear a uniform and become invisible in the crowd. These days, so many people buy Macs to be cool, it makes the gadgets decidedly uncool in my eyes. I'm quite embarrassed to have joined to cult and feel like I should be hiding all Apple product I own. I am not a lemming, I don't do worship in the Church of Steve, and I don't wait outside stores to be the first one to buy products. All these pathetic behaviors make me cringe and deny Apple wherever I can. The MacBook is a good computer, a great tool for my job, but it's as far from cool as sandals with socks.

My musings were interrupted by an authoritative voice reminding everyone to take off their shoes and wade through inches of filth in their socks. It's all in the service of air travel safety. I complied grudgingly. The Peas in my iPod make the nonsense a little more bearable. Let's Get Retarded. I put my shoes back on, quickly left the duty-free bazaar behind me, and hurried towards the departure gate. It was nearing seven, and though the sun still hadn't risen yet, my plane was about to. I made it just in time.

I wish all my readers a Merry Christmas and/or (depending on when this post sees the light of the day) a happy, successful and challenging New Year.

No comments: