Airports

Airports are weird, aren’t they?  I know that sounds like the start of a bad observational comedy routine, but it’s true.

I’m at the magnificent John Lennon Airport for the first leg of my journey to Norway and I thought that I’d fill you in on what’s happened so far.

After a suspiciously easy check-in (nobody in the queue), I went through the hand luggage scanning, which is extremely rigourous these days, what with the transparent plastic bags and the no liquids over 100ml and the shoes.  Not that I’m complaining.  A vigourous search of your belongings is certainly preferable to the alternative.

Something strange did happen when I got searched, though.  After my stuff had been through the scanner, the lady said that she had to scan my phone (she didn’t specify what it was going to be scanned for).  This entailed her getting a wand with a cloth on the end and wiping the phone all over.  She then put it in a machine and pulled a lever and a ticket printed out.  She looked at the ticket and called over a colleague.   All was clearly not well.

Her colleague got a fresh cloth for the wand and wiped it over the woman’s hands and then popped the phone back in the machine and pulled the lever.  No ticket came out this time.  He then wrote my name and flight details and the word “iPhone” onto a scrap of paper.  I was starting to worry.   Was I going to be questioned for some heinous crime and miss my flight?  Or worse, was I going to have to leave my precious iPhone behind?

No.  He just gave it me back.   I asked if there was anything wrong.  He said “not anymore” before walking off.  I wasn’t overly reassured.  What were they scanning for on the clearly bogus piece of machinery? Why had he written my name down?  Would there be consequences?

In an attempt to calm my nerves, I went to get a coffee.  Caffeine is a well known relaxant, right?  Anyway, I ordered a coffee that should have cost £2.99.  The girl charged my £2.39.  There was nothing on the menu that costs £2.39.  It was a lovely brew, though, so I’m just putting the pricing  down to the weirdness of airports.

As I enjoyed my drink, I decided to send a few tweets.  Afterwards I realised that I couldn’t lock my phone.  It seemed as though its examination had cocked up the button.  I tried restarting the phone but it then got into a loop for about 5 minutes.  I was panicking by this stage.  What had they done to my beloved iPhone?

I just buggered about with the button for a bit and it seems to be fine at the moment.  Fingers crossed.

My only other bit of airport news so far is that one of the Ryan Air flight attendants looked like a ladyboy, but I’m not here to pass judgment.   By the way, I am actually writing this as I’m sat in the airport.  All that stuff has only just happened to me.  The netbook is paying dividends already.   Not literally, but it is very handy.

Right, I should go and mooch around WH Smiths.  It’s my duty as a traveller.

Bon Voyage (to myself).