‘Over the past week, Les and I have been in a LOT of airports. We flew from Manchester to Helsinki, Helsinki to Seoul, Busan to Jeju Island and Jeju back to Busan…’
During the hours we’ve clocked up sitting in lounges, I realised that there are many things I don’t understand about flying. And, as it happens, I don’t understand them in England, Finland, OR South Korea…
Full Face Make Up
I honestly don’t get this. When I fly, I tend to make less effort on my appearance than I do to, say, go to bed at night.
This is largely because, a) I’m not meeting anyone after a 12 hour flight that’s stupid enough to expect me to look like Kate Moss, and b) I’m going somewhere no one knows me and if they think I look like a troll, I honestly don’t care.
Also, if I’m flying to a destination at night, I don’t want to get there and have to spend 10 minutes taking my face off before I launch myself into bed because OMG LET ME SLEEP.
The sheer number of women I see at airports with full makeup, nay, full *contouring* (and you really need to have a word with yourselves, anyway…) is mind-blowing. Who wants to waste all that expensive makeup just to sit in a tin can for hours, seeing nothing but the balding head of the man in front of you?
Airport Shopping (outside Duty Free)
Duty free, I get. Duty free can be great. Duty free can land you enough booze and cigarettes to live your best life for actual *months* after you return from holiday.
W.H Smith, however, does not.
The price of goods in Smiths or Waterstones at an airport can cause you to seriously consider a second mortgage on your home, just to bag a copy of the latest Michael Connolly novel and a pouch of family size Skittles.
For some reason, because the airport has you captive, people tend to forget they’re actually being robbed. Let’s face it, no one really needs a copy of The Guardian and an exorbitantly priced Mars Bar, do they?
It might be the Scot in me, but I’d much rather put that £10 I’d spend on a bitter coffee and shitty magazine in the airport towards a beer and some Korean BBQ.
Being Front of the Queue to Board
I spent many years doing this (through no fault of my own), simply because I flew with someone who needed to be on the plane first.
These days, it’s normal practice for me and Les to be last on our flight. And it’s great.
The people who board half an hour before me don’t get to our destination any quicker. They don’t actually gain anything. And I get longer to spend in the lounge, drinking wine, before standing in a line behind someone’s screaming kid waiting to take my seat. What’s not to love?
Travel Pillows
I love the idea of travel pillows. It’s a noble quest to try making someone comfortable enough to sleep at 30,000ft, whilst sitting bolt upright, in a cramped space with hundreds of strangers and the constant earth shattering noise of a jet engine. It really is.
However, it’s a difficult goal to achieve with nothing but a bit of fabric and some air.
It doesn’t seem to matter what kind of pillow I buy; it never quite works. I’ve tried the inflatable front facing pillows that you rest your chin on, the inflatable rear neck cushioning ones you push your head back on, and the ones that are so well inflated they actually push your head further than it’s supposed to be and you end up looking like someone’s trying to strangle you from the seat behind.
Travel pillows all great in theory, but fail miserably in practice (for me). Les says it’s because my head’s a funny shape. And that may also be true.
Passport Covers
This actually drives me crazy. Don’t get me wrong; some of them are really pretty, but they’re all fucking useless.
There is no point in having a cover for your passport while you’re in the airport. You will merely have to remove said passport from aforementioned cover in order to show it to anyone who asks for it. Save yourself (and me) the time and leave the bloody thing at home.
I know they’re a great idea, but your passport is *designed* to be durable. It doesn’t need an additional cover, regardless of how many cute cats it has on it.
I’ll be the first to admit that, you show me a passport cover with pugs on it, I’m buying it. I won’t put my passport in it and take it to the airport, though. Because I’m not a monster. I will, however, Snapchat the HELL out of that bad boy because doggos.
What are the things about flying that you don’t understand?
