Flight woes !!!!

“You want to know what it is like to be on a plane for 22 hours? Sit in a chair, squeeze your head as hard as you can, don’t stop, then take a paper bag and put it over your mouth and nose and breathe your own air over and over and over.”
– Lewis Black, comedian

I have nobody to blame except myself for my latest predicament.

It was simply ludicrous of me to have embarked on another plane trip before I had removed the dregs of my previous long-haul flight from my system.

Falling for the usual sales gimmick of low fares, I chose to travel with a lesser-known Asian carrier to Amsterdam. Of course, I had my travel blinkers on, which meant the airline’s discreet and fine-print disclaimer of ‘you might find yourself indulging more in transit than flying-time and your so-called straightforward journey will sprout as many legs as an octopus’ was conveniently ignored by itchy-feet me.

Ah poor me. Little did I know what ‘delightful’ surprises I was in for. For someone bitten by the travel bug for the last three years, I should be immune to the discomforts of travelling. But the rigmarole of flying, especially economy flying, never ceases to astound me.

I fully appreciate the rigorous and numerous customs and security checks undertaken in the wake of the 9/11 attacks. But one cannot deny the hardships and excessive procedures that ordinary travellers are subjected to.

I am always one of the lucky ones to get metal detectors to ‘ping’ every time I walk through them. Bingo! Full body frisking here I come. How do I convince the stony faced security guard that I have no concealed weapon in my waist-band but just extra flab I attempted to camouflage under my one-size-smaller jeans?

Just when you think you have just finished your five minutes of frisk fame, you realize your ‘lucky’ stars continue to shine. You get chosen for a random drug test and more frisking.

It gets further maddening to discover all your space-saving strategies and nights of careful packing can be undone in a minute and your stash of undergarments and cheap tourist trinkets are out for public display yet again.

I still have not been able to figure out if it was the destination I had chosen or the political and bureaucratic intricacies of the transit country that posed one hurdle after the other this time.

Normally I am used to breezing through international airports with the immunity provided by my Australian passport. One glance and usually I get away scot-free with minimal control checks. However, this time I certainly found things to be quite different.

The moment I disembarked for transit, my passport got whisked away for so-called stamping. No prior information was given by my flight agent regarding the local customs of this particular country nor were the airport officials helpful as to what was happening. I then found out from another Australian couple, who were also detained, that our itinerary now included another domestic trip to the capital city of the transit country. Surprise, surprise!

After futile attempts at conversation in English with the dolled-up airport authority allegedly responsible for customer service, both my new-found travel buddies and I gave up and sat there resigned, waiting for our passports to arrive.

Finally after a nail-biting wait, we were reunited with our passports and without any explanation shooed off to continue our transit.
Then we began the arduous journey of seeking further information only to be passed from one desk to another and from one supervisor to another.

Most signs were baffling given the predominant use of the local language and was often missing or incorrect because the airport was still in the throes of refurbishment. Very few people spoke English. Soon a crowd gathered for Amsterdam and the motley collection of sleep-deprived passengers were herded sheep-like between various transit lounges, staircases and flights. Finally we were relieved to learn that we were on our way to Amsterdam.

It is perhaps a regular saga that people experience in airports; but I was struck anew with the chaos associated with what should have been a simple transit and travel.

There was something freaky about being kept in the dark in this Asian country known more for its information censorship than its growing economic and political power.

Our long period of stay in Australia has us accustomed to a country whose culture and lifestyle reflects its liberal democratic traditions and values especially including highly regarded freedom of expression and information.

It was indeed a wake-up call to realise what one enjoys in Australia, especially us naturalised citizens. It is not just the security or living comforts that we are talking about here, but the littlest of things that one always takes for granted, especially access to information.