Security breach puts travellers in airport lock down

Brisbane airport - 24 July 2013
© divacultura 2013

This is what confronted me when I arrived at Brisbane airport last night to catch a flight home to Melbourne.  As I walked across to the terminal from the train station, I saw hundreds of people in the terminal and immediately knew something was wrong.  The only time I've seen an airport as busy as this was at about 5:30am over in Perth.

This was different.  For a start everyone was facing in the one direction.  I soon discovered they were looking at the departures board.  The departures board had a list of flights with no departure information.  Definitely unusual.

I approached two women and asked what was going on.  They told me there had been some kind of security breach.  I asked a couple of others and found out that someone had walked back inside the secure zone after they had left.  This meant that everyone who was inside the secure zone had to be evacuated to the non-secure side and go through security again.

I checked my bag in and found a spot on the floor and took a seat.  I was booked on a 7:10pm flight so I wasn't late, but I needed food.  After a day feeling unwell, I hadn't eaten anything and was just starting to feel like something plain - like toast, crackers or a bowl of rice.  The closest thing I could find was a bag of chips in a vending machine, but the vending machine only took coins or a $5 or $10 note.  I had a $50 note in my wallet.  Down the other end of the terminal I found a machine that took credit cards.  I swiped it.  It didn't look like it worked so I swiped it again.  I ended up buying 2 packets of chips.

Settling back on my spot on the floor, I listened to the announcements.  A woman's voice explained that they were now going to call particular flights.  She pleaded with us to wait if we were not on the flights called.  She reassured us that everyone would be called through and no one would be left behind.  A flight to Tamworth was called and a huge crowd surged forward.  It seemed like an awful lot of people travelling to Tamworth!  Soon another announcement from the same woman asked again for ONLY the people on flights that had been called to come through security.  She sounded frustrated.  I looked up and there she was standing beside me.  She looked stressed.

When she finished speaking I said thank you to her and told her what a great job she was doing.  She rolled her eyes and said how awful the afternoon had been.  I repeated that she was doing a great job.  She looked grateful and seemed amazed that anyone would notice and take the time to compliment her.

Another woman then walked through the crowd and started giving contradictory information calling out flight numbers that weren't up on the screen and hadn't been called out by the amplified announcement.  A passenger walked up and said something to this woman.  She didn't look happy.  The staff member gave some directions; the other woman shook her head and sighed.  As she walked away she shook her head and was muttering under her breath.

These scenes were repeated in little clusters across the terminal.

My flight was called and I walked through to security.  The staff there were working very fast.  I said hello and asked them how they were going.  They looked pleased to be acknowledged as human beings as most people going through looked grumpy.

As I made my way to the gate, a man walked beside me muttering about his flight being closed.

"My flight's &%^$ing closed!"

"It won't be closed.  You'll be okay."

"It says it's closed!  I won't be happy."

"You'll be okay," I called to his back as he rumbled down the concourse.

It's interesting to watch people get worked up about something that they have no control over.  Why yell at people who are doing their best to manage in the circumstances?  And why spend time getting worked up about a flight that might be closed instead of spending the time getting to the gate?  Strange.

In the end, my flight was only 10 minutes late.  I was very happy to sit on a seat - airport floors are very hard and cold!

What's your plan  when things don't go to plan?

Early morning airport observations

I'm at Perth airport again.  I arrived at 4:10am.  It's a very quick drive to the airport at this time of the morning.  In fact, I recommend 4am as a great time to get around in a city choked by traffic, compounded by roadworks.  My flight doesn't leave until 6:10am, yet here I am.

The cab driver who took me from the office back to my hotel last night spoke of taxi apocalypse this morning.  Apparently it's quite impossible to get a cab between 4 and 5am.  Everyone is going to the airport and there aren't enough cabs to meet demand.  To make matters even worse, something went wrong with a cruise ship and there are 3000 or 5000 people who are in Perth, filling the hotels and all wanting to go to the airport.  He told horror stories of Irish girls from Adelaide missing their flight all because they didn't understand the problems of getting a cab at that hour of the morning.

I had experienced the issue last time I was in Perth, so I decided to believe him.  I booked a cab last night with a pick up time of 4am.  My alarm went off at 3:20am which gave me enough time to have a shower and check out of the hotel.  I wasn't going to be late and have a cab leave without me!  I was in that cab at 3:55am and fifteen minutes later had checked my bag and was through security.  I'm here so early I have two hours before my flight leaves and none of the shops are open.

This morning I didn't mind being stopped for my usual explosives scan.

"Have you had one of these before?" the woman wielding the wand asks me.

"I'm the most scanned woman in Australia," I reply.

I remember my guest pass for the Qantas Club and decide that this morning would be the perfect time to use it.

So here I sit.  Looking around me, I can see that apart from the barrista at the coffee machine and the woman wrangling the pancake machine and a woman clearing plates, I am the only woman in here. If this was a nightclub, I'd be in business. Other guests are clad in the local uniform; this time the high-visibility shirts are yellow, not orange, and the men wearing them are reading the Financial Review, working on laptop computers or doing something on an ipad.  Spaces are filling at the benches and the tables and the level of noise is growing.  I imagine that in about half hour it will be crowded and noisy.

Pat is the barrista who is working the espresso machine.  A long queue of people snakes along the bar.  She takes orders from the next three people in the queue.  I order a latte and after me the orders are for a skinny capuccino and a soy latte.  Her eyes meet mine.  I can see her rolling her eyes and thinking "can't you just have normal coffee".

"How many coffees do you make in a day Pat?"  I ask her, smiling.

She smiles tiredly.  "Only about a thousand," as though that is all in a normal day's work.  For Pat, it is.  It's not even 4:30am and she looks like she's already half way through that number.

The coffee is good.  The practice is paying off.

The destinations on the departure board are still exotic to me, even though I've been here a few times now. It's now 5am and the first flights are being called: Paraburdoo, Karratha, Cloudbreak, Christmas Creek. They sound musical and unmistakably Australian. I look down the list on the departure board to find the familiar Melbourne, Adelaide and Broome.

Looking out the floor to ceiling windows wrapped around the Club the tarmac is on display.  A luggage trailer snakes along to the nearest plane.  Green and blue lights mark out territory and have meaning for those who know how to read them.

Meanwhile, text messages from Metro Trains back in Melbourne are coming through to tell me about train cancellations and alterations to services.  I am a long way from there and glad not to be standing on a train platform thwarted in my efforts to get to where I'm going.

Catching this early flight always seems like a good idea.  As interesting as it is, I'd rather be home in bed.

Mining boom commuter lounge

The destinations on the departure board are unfamiliar - Karratha, Cloudbreak, Solomon Islands - and I am the odd person out, not dressed in navy blue work pants, a high-visibility vest (orange or yellow) and heavy work boots.  The women are dressed like this too, but they wear thongs on their feet.  It's 5am on Wednesday morning in the departures hall of the Perth domestic airport and it's peak hour.

The crowds of people waiting to check in at the kiosk make me very pleased that I've checked in online and that I have electronic bag tags.  I still have to queue at the bag drop, but I'm ready to join the next line in a matter of two minutes.  Modern travel is the experience of waiting in a succession of  lines.  No thrill or glamour there.

The queue to get through security is long, but it moves swiftly.  There are few delays as the people going through are experienced.  The routine of undoing belts, removing jewellery, taking coins and keys out of pockets doesn't happen here. The experienced travellers have come dressed so that they can just walk straight through.  I realise that this is why women are wearing thongs - it saves them having to take the their boots off at the security screening point.  The men wearing boots have already got the laces undone and slip them off like slippers when the time comes.

For once in my life, I am not randomly selected for random explosives screening.  They are too busy with everyone else.

Once in the waiting area of the airport, I notice some new retail shops have opened - surfwear and handbags.  I wonder how business is.  Yes, there are more people coming through the airport, but for most of them it looks like the same experience as catching a train to work - a regular routine that gets them to where they're going.  The lovely handbags look out of place in a world of heavy duty back packs.

Extra banks of chairs have also been installed and they are filled with people waiting for flights.

My journey to the airport was unconventional - a taxi screeched to a halt and the driver got out and said he would take me too to make sure I didn't miss my flight.  He already had a passenger on board, but there were 60 jobs waiting and not enough taxis to go around.  I appreciated his initiative and he explained that he manages cabs and sees things differently from the average driver.

My fellow commuter was flying back to Brisbane and works for a mining company.  He had previously worked in the mines themselves, but now is happy to have a desk job.  I learnt all about "hot shifts" (where the mine operates continuously, workers arrive and pick up where the last shift leaves off) and we talked about how the world could be better organised.

Our driver was intent on efficiency and proudly pointed out the areas of traffic congestion which he had neatly avoided for us.  As they dropped me at the kerb, both the driver and fellow passenger wished me a safe journey home.

You never know who you'll meet and what you'll learn.  That is the true joy of travelling even the shortest distance.

Up, up and away - musings of a frequent flyer

Written on 20 September 2012 - posting tonight due to broadband failure....

I wake up three times during the night, thinking it can't be time to get up yet.  The first time it's 11:50pm - definitely not.  The second time it's 2:45 am - not quite.  The third time it's 4:30am and it is time.  It's been a while since I had to catch an early flight like this for work and I remember that I don't like it.

My cab driver will collect me at 5:15am.  It's too early to eat.  Despite my aim to go to be early, I turn the light out at 11pm.  That IS early for me.  I've packed and laid out the clothes I'll be wearing today the night before.  I sleepwalk to the shower which wakes me momentarily but thirty minutes later my eyes have that sandy, tired feeling.  I make my way through the airport in a haze. One minute the queues to get through security are enormous; when I look again there are no queues.  I walk through and continue to stake my claim to the title of "woman most swabbed for explosive residue at Australian airports".

While waiting for my latte, I notice a couple of pilots waiting for their coffee.  One of them has his ipad out and it starts playing what sounds like the soundtrack to a movie or TV show.  He desperately tries to turn i off but fumbles and makes it louder instead.

"He can't drive his ipad - hope he's better at the controls of a plane," I quip to my barrista.

Urgent announcements to b

oard my flight are made.  i am them standing in a line that string along the whole length of the aerobridge corridor.

It takes ages to get to row 25 while people try to stow their five piece of hand luggage - why aren't the restrictions enforced?  I take my seat and am happy to discover the aircraft is equipped with individual entertainment systems.  I immediately find episode eight of "Smash" and pick up where I left off on my recent flight to Perth.

We arrive on time but it's still a brisk walk to the other terminal at Sydney airport.  The security lines here are endless and chaotic.  It seems no one has ever travelled before and no one has any idea about the need to empty pockets and not try to travel carrying aerosol cans.  I stride to the front of the queue and make it all the way out without even an explosives check!

I'm at the gate lounge for two minutes before boarding starts.  I take my seat in the Dash 8 and fall asleep immediately, waking as the wheels hit the tarmac at my destination.

My bag made it - I was worried! - and then I find the taxi queue.  Four sneering besuited men take up space with a lofty sense of entitlement.  They make derogatory comments about everyone who walks by.  I eyeball them as I take my place in yet another queue, daring them to say something to me.  My direct approach silences them until two cars marked as belonging to the local business chamber come to collect them.

I learnt from the driver of my maxi taxi that for groups of five or more people travelling in the one maxi taxi, the rate is 1.5 times the usual cabfare.  It can' be applied to fewer than 5 passengers.  Good to know.  He warns me to be careful on the Gold Coast.

I arrived at my workplace for the day and rallied.  I really needed to wake up!  Of course I did and made it to the end of another intense, interest and very challenging day.  I am the only woman in the room - in the building actually - and the dynamics are difficult.

I was happy to walk the ten minutes up the hill to my hotel at the end of the day.  There are some magnificent eucalypts along the highway and they were beautifully lit by the late afternoon sunshine.

Coffs Harbour eucalypt
(c) divacultura 2012

Suburban shopping with a dose of karma

My confession for today is that I willingly entered a suburban shopping centre to complete my Christmas shopping and satisfy my need for a white flower (part of my costume for this evening's vocal group performance).  Today of all days!  The last Sunday before Christmas Day.

Preparation was the key and I arrived five minutes after the opening time of 10am.  Already the prime parking spots were taken, but I was able to park within a few minutes of arriving.  Determined shoppers made a beeline for the entries.  They looked like they had a plan and knew exactly where they were going. Just like me really.  In and out was the plan.

I managed to complete my shopping within 90 minutes of arriving and was feeling pleased enough to observe the place.  It was no longer easy to zoom through the pedestrian thoroughfares.  It was now an obstacle course of aimless wanderers, people too absorbed in their phones to notice the real people within their vicinity, people with prams flanked by an emu parade of energised toddlers and slouching teenagers and people flogging beauty products.  Standing in the middle of a shopping centre is exactly where I want to have my nails buffed by the miracle buffer or be manhandled by an ugly 20 year old man trying to flirt with me as he tries to rub moisturiser onto me.

The kids at Boost juice were having fun by turning up the music to drown out the sound of the blenders (that is, loud enough to make your ears bleed) and showing no awareness of the resulting cacophony assaulting passers-by.

As part of a Christmas promotion, any purchase of more than $10 entitled shoppers to go in the draw to win $10,000 (handy at any time).  In a clever marketing strategy, you could also see if you'd won an instant prize. In most cases this required spending more money in a particular shop.  I swapped a jewellery voucher for a coffee voucher and gave a maternity voucher to a woman who clearly needed it more than I did.  The coffee voucher was a two for one and as I was on my own (and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible) I stalked the line of people waiting at the relevant store.  Two sad looking men were standing there.  I walked up and smiled and offered the voucher to the first man.  He looked  at me as though I had just offered him an envelope of anthrax.  The second man in the queue nodded, took the voucher and didn't meet my eyes.  I wished him merry Christmas, he said nothing in reply and continued to avoid my eyes.

I figured I may as well give the vouchers to someone who might use them rather than just put them in the bin. The least they could say is "thanks".  Actually, the least they could say was nothing at all; this is the option they chose.

These shopping centres are quite like airports in their vibe - closed in, bustling environments with a hum of constant noise bouncing off all the hard surfaces.  And people wandering around.  At least the airport is just a jumping off point in the journey to another destination.  The shopping centre seems to be the destination itself.

When I walked out to find my car, many more cars were driving in circles trying vainly to find a place to park.    I felt their eyes lock on me as soon as they saw me as a shopper with bags heading away from the shopping centre.  They started to drive very slowly behind me, trying to read my direction from slight twitches in my body language.  The trouble was I wasn't completely sure of exactly where I had parked the car, so a few people may have misread my twitches.  I didn't hear the sound of crunching metal, but I did hear the sound of screeching brakes when I tripped over my car.  She was so excited, you'd think I'd just told her she'd won the $10,000.