I don’t want to appear grumpy, but I find that the older I get, the less tolerant I am of what I like to call “everything”.
This week’s gripe comes under the heading “Queuing”.
I had the good fortune to be travelling by air recently.
For one who – as a child – fled the pterodactyls, being airborne is beyond my wildest caveman dreams.
I love it. However, the experience is ruined somewhat by one particular aspect: people.
Not everyone. You’re okay. It’s the others. Allow me to explain.
I don’t think that the security checkpoint is really necessary.
I hasten to add here, under the threat of an over-examination next time, that I do salute the people who work it and I’m happy to comply.
I enjoy technology, and it reminds me of that scene in Total Recall where Arnie’s face falls apart. Sweet. Security screening should be awesome.
I also understand there is a good reason for the process.
I just think there are many Kiwis, like me, who would happily play the odds and dispense with security, due to the queues.
This is because lines are where we meet the people who stick in my craw – and my craw is feeling pretty clogged up lately.
Often there is a considerable queue for the screening.
While in it, the only entertainment is to observe every single person in front of you empty out their pockets, take out their laptops, remove their watches and dump them in the trays.
I cannot understand the sheer number of individuals who get to the front of the queue and are surprised to find they are expected to do the same.
They then proceed to hold up all of us while they unpack for five minutes. And it’s usually unsuccessful, which then leads to another five minutes with the magical wand.
I’m prepped: I’ve got all my metal unhooked, my earrings out, nose piercing removed, coins in the tray, pants off, shoes off and I’m off.
I could nail security screening in seconds, which is why I’d like to suggest to airport administration that we introduce an express lane and you are only allowed in it if you are fast.
If you make one mistake, however, you are rejected to the back of the long, tedious moron section with the others.
In the fast lane, you’re not allowed any questions, hesitation, beeping, or to stop the flow of forward progress.
Otherwise it’s back to the end of the dunce line.
Imagine the effort people would make to learn the rules of what is and isn’t allowed?
It would become a challenge. There would be YouTube instructional videos. People would try to set personal bests. It may even make the Olympics.
It would revolutionise security screening and make me a happy traveller once again.
Until, of course, I get on the plane and see what some people regard as “carry on” luggage. Ooooh, my craw!
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