AIRPORT authorities the world over have never quite beaten the festive season rush hour. It seems every year the situation worsens and nobody it seems, have quite worked out a remedy for it.
In this contemporary world of space-age technology and highly skilled intellectuals, you’d think that we’d learn from the strengths and weaknesses and the panic of the previous year and spend the rest of the year trying to improve the situation or minimise the problem at best.
Alas, every year we go through the same old same old and doing the best we can under the circumstances and hope for the best.
PNG is no different though you start to wonder whether we are trying to outdo our worst last year. And you have to experience it to believe it.
Last Friday was a classic example.
Your family was booked to fly out early last Friday for Rabaul and having worked late you decided not to sleep, lest you sleep in and the family misses an early check-in.
And thank God you remembered to make transport arrangements.
John was spot on at 4am, as he had always been, and the trip to the airport wasn’t much of a hassle, except we had to detour to the all-night service station at Malaoro for fuel to get us there and back. John had pointed out that he had enough fuel to run us to the airport but not enough to return.
And that little problem did not take into consideration that there were five of us – and not all lightweights either – crammed inside the mini-bus along with seven rather large pieces of luggage that eventually cost us K500 in excess.
At just a little after four in the morning, we were getting to the airport well before the sun peeped over the Six-Mile mountain ranges. The assumption was that we’d be nice and early for the 7.30 flight.
Wrong! By the time we reached the airport, every Tom, Dick, Harry and his dog was there and the airport was busier than a beehive. It seemed the airport never went to sleep. There was a long queue of passengers in front of the main gate, stretching at least a 100m in the westward direction. One glimpse of the line and you start calculating that if you joined it and made your way to the front gate, the chances of you catching your 7.30 flight was approaching ground zero.
But join the line we did, as good law-abiding citizens of the country, and hoped for the best. This was one time that you would have welcomed a delayed flight but making it on that flight was a question of luck.
The security guards, both private, airport and police, were being tested to the limit in the execution of their duties. They were dealing with very frustrated and desperate people hell-bent on spending Christmas with their families at home. And they did everything possible with their powers to ensure that the opportunity wasn’t missed.
You could tell that the security guards had absolutely more than enough on their plate to last them until their retirement. There were three check-points manned by the security guards – one at the main gates, the other at an entry point inside the terminal and finally, the x-ray machines after the second entry point, which checked all your luggage and your person before you checked in, that is, if you get security clearance for both you and your luggage.
People were pushing and shoving all along the line hoping to get through before their flights finally closed and many in fact, were still in the queue when their flights were closed. There were scenes of confrontations where frustrated and angry passengers exchanged angry words with the security guards. This seemed to have been happening at all checkpoints.
Rather than getting worked up, you decided to observe the goings on while in line.
The security guards were having a torrid time controlling the slow moving throng of humanity. They had their hands full. And that meant letting a few bold persons passing through their rank and file by force or familiarity just to ease the tension.
But in general, you thought they fared extremely well under very testing circumstances – a score of six out of 10 would not be a bad rating for doing a ‘good job’.
You think they deserved two points for telling the white folks, both young and old, that they had to stand in line like everybody else.
They scored another two points for explaining to all and sundry within earshot that if they stood in line and stopped pushing and shoving, the line would move much more quickly and efficiently.
You thought the first line of security guards deserved two points because they told a very intoxicated Government minister to stand in line, but this score was subtracted at the second check-point where at least two of the security guards recognised him.
But for overall performance, you gave them two points because despite the pressure, none of them lost their cool but did their best to explain the situation as best as they could.
Inside the terminal, there were chaotic scenes as queues of passengers and trolleys of luggage stretched from the check-in counter to the back of the terminal. Movement from one end to the other was, in fact, at the pace of a snail.
You saw Air Niugini officers taking down the Mt Hagen flight sign and heard speakers announcing the closure of the Mt Hagen flight. You look at the Mt Hagen queue and there were people still standing there to check in. It seemed, the flight could only take the half of the people who had stood in line.
An angry mother makes her way to the front of the queue and vents her wrath on the security guards. She blames them for holding her up in line and forcing her to miss her flight to Mt Hagen. As a final gesture of her frustration, she throws her airline ticket at the closest security guard before parting amid a flurry of flying papers.
Meanwhile, the family had the opportunity to meet up with some relatives and during the introductions, you do not notice that you and your trolley have been pushed along by the flow of human traffic towards the front of the queue.
A childhood friend in front notices you and offers a greeting. You pause a moment to let recognition sink in and after some more excited greetings and small talk, ask him where he’s headed.
A plan was already forming in your head when he answered your query. You promptly pass your ticket to him. He nods his understanding and the rest is history.
It’s only when you go off to pay for the excess luggage that you realise the gravity of the situation at the airport – there’s a long queue again at the customer service, with people trying to rebook or reconfirm on another flight to their respective destinations.
Having paid for the excess luggage, you returned to the check-in counter and obtained your seat allocations.
After ushering the family away from the chaotic scenes in the terminal to departure lounge, you come away with the mindset that you never want to go through that again.
There is also the feeling of guilt too; you had gone through the system by sheer luck to get your family checked in and on the plane. You had beaten the line to the check-in counter but you could never want to look your newly-acquainted wife’s relatives, in the eye again.
And that brings us to the poser, why do we let this happen to us?
I don’t have an answer for that but I do sympathise with those who failed to make use of their Christmas with their families. Perhaps, we would do well to plan ahead for next year’s Christmas.
As the Wise Counsellor reminds us: “Circumstances are like a mattress; when we are on top, we rest in comfort, when we are underneath, we are smothered …”

 

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