September 7 airports and aeroplanes

I came to flying late. I used to go to Paris by the night ferry. When I could afford it the short flight was preferable. Less cruel hoarding of passengers into shacks in midnight ferry terminal rain. Less vomit. The plane remains a sober environment today. There is little space for commercial activity. Just a quick passage of a duty-free trolley which seems more symbolic than anything else these days.
However, it is at the airport where our worst dreams materialise. At the airport there is space for Man to work on his environment. Behind security the Circle of Hell is manifest: the brainless parade of air staff who all still seem to think this is the 1960s when flying may have been glamorous; the themed restaurants catering for every type of stereotype from sports bar to Latin pizza; the belligerent brands and their snob values all now twice the price of what you can get on the|High street; and, worst of all, the inane stamping and clipping of tickets perpetrated by certain uniform-loving lands (if I were an aspergic six year old boy I’d love it). Please show me to the airport mosque for some silent meditation.

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