In fact I'm writing this from an airport. I hate airports. They are the only places in the world where the norm is to act like you're homeless. People sleep on the floor, everybody smells and is grumpy. I'm no exception. At least I'm not in high heels and full make-up!
Travel is hard. It's an ordeal. Especially for long distance travellers. But it's not made easier by those in authority. Those who design the systems are either lacking in intelligent capabilities or derive pleasure in making people say 'how high'!
Tell me this. You pack your bags and make sure no sharp objects are in your carry on luggage (why tweezers are dangerous I'll never understand, but apparently I have to spend the two days feeling that one hair that I just can't quite pull out, and feeling very self conscious about it. I miss my tweezers). You make sure that all your liquids and gels are in small bottles less than a hundred mills and all in a single A5 size plastic bag. This, in my opinion, serves two purposes, firstly to generate a trade in the small and un-economic size cosmetic products that last only as long as your flight, and secondly to make you feel uncomfortable... people who have dry skin need to moisturise. I should get exemption.
Anyway, so you take all your precautions and you jump through all the hoops to get into the international terminal. Including a pat-down search mind you... randomly! And you are finally on the plane. They tell you to keep hydrated but don't give you any water or let you bring your own. Who do I sue if I get deep vein thrombosis and extremely dry skin due to lack of water and moisturising?
You endure 15 hours in a seat smaller than you'd get on a bus, and avoid getting up so as not to disturb the other person who would have to get up every time you felt the need to stretch your feet. You use plastic knives because that is all they trust you with.
Then you finally land and are herded onto a bus, then a terminal, then you go up some stairs, then some more stairs, all the while feeling like a rat in one of those glass mazes to test their intelligence and how long it takes them to find the food. Before you know it you are in a long long line going through more metal detectors before they let you into the terminal to wait for your next connecting flight!
What is the point of that. Is it just to make people stand in long lines carrying their luggage. Then make them all take off their belts, shoes and watches? What security purpose is it serving? What could I have possibly picked up on the flight that would require this sort of precaution?
I finally get through into the international terminal. I have no idea where I was before that!
I start to think about the next four hours. I try to call a friend who happens to live in this city. Seems like catching up would be a good use of the four hours they are making me spend here. Little did I know a single phone call was no small ask. I have no phone card. The public phones don't take any other form of payment. And to top it all off it seems my new mobile network lied when they said I had roaming access. I'm carrying a brick!
So I try to hunt for a phone card. I ask the information desk with a big 'i' and the girl didn't know. Am I really the first person to try making a phone call in this airport??!!!
I walk to the next information desk and I get pointed to a shop. I stand in line at the shop, and as soon as it's my turn the shop assistant turns around and walks away. Tell me, is it common practice for people to stand in long lines at registers only to leave as soon as they get to the front? Why would I be standing there if I didn't have a question?
Anyway, he pointed me to another counter... eventually I reach the magic counter where they stock phone cards. Supposedly I have to buy a 30 dirham card just to make a single phone call that would cost about 1 or 2 dirhams. They don't make any smaller cards.
I ask if I can pay in Australian currency.
"yes maam"
"how much"
"nearly twoew dollar"
"what?"
"twoew"
"twenty?"
"No maam twoew"
I look blankly then the colleague comes to the rescue "twelve dollars"
Oh twelve.
I hand her a twenty dollar note. She says they can only give me change in the local currency.
Do I really want to spend twenty dollars just to make a fifty cent call?
I rummage in my purse and luckily find exact change. I hand her twelve dollars exactly.
"I'm sorry maam we don't accept coins"
Are they serious? What sort of a policy is that? Who thought up that rule and what purpose does it serve? If you don't accept coins, don't charge me amounts that have to be paid in coins. Come to think of it all I wanted was a fifty cent phone call. I don't want the phone card in the first place.
I protest by walking away and blogging. At least they have a wireless connection that can talk to my laptop. Thank God for small mercies. I now get to spend the remaining three hours on the web.... but some websites are blocked!
The world needs better co-ordination. There are too many idiots at the helm.
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