Home again home again
jiggety jig.
Ah the joys of modern US airline travel. Today's fiasco was the evacuation of terminal B at the Philadelphia airport towards the end of our 3 hour layover, the subsequent hour and a half wait to return through security, the being sent to the security check at Terminal C at a run to make our plane, then running back to terminal B where the plane was. Happily, the making of our plane, due as far as I can tell to the remnants of Hurricane Charlie delaying the flight. Thank you, hurricane.
The evacuation of the terminal was a classic fiasco. At no time were we ever told officially that the terminal was being evacuated; we were simply waved in various directions by security guards. There was never any announcement over the loudspeaker, just occasional bursts of yelling by said security guards, several of whom did not speak adequate english to communicate what was going on. None of whom were polite. Had there been an actual emergency, we would probably have all been killed. As it was, I was in danger of killing someone, possibly myself through implosive rage. I never found out why the terminal was evacuated. At no time were we informed of anything. There was no communication from the airlines about what was happening to the flights that were affected. While we were waiting in the security line to reenter the terminal (the line extended into the Marriott Hotel and wound around their conference rooms; the hotel people were far and away the most professional staff I saw, not that they had any idea what was going on) our flight disappeared from the "departures" screen. I ran down to the ticketing area and asked an agent what was the what, and she said the airlines didn't run the "departures" screen, the city did (?), and so when scheduled departure times passed the flights were removed from the screen (this has never been the case at any airports I have frequented), and they'd hold our flight "for a certain amount of time" and then if we missed the flight they would "re-accomodate" us. Like they'd been so fucking accomodating up to that point.
So. If I ran the zoo, if there had to be terminal evacuations, they would be done like this: announcements, over the loudspeaker, in clearly articulated english, spanish, and other languages that might have significant concentrations of native speakers. Security personnel directing traffic would have megaphoes so they could be heard, and they would be polite, and they would tell people where to go and what to do once they got there. As the lines formed to re-enter the terminal, there would be priority given in order of whose flights were leaving first. I mean, we were all holding boarding cards - how hard would it be? Also, of course, people needing assistance (wheelchairs, elderly, small children). There would be representatives from the affected airlines to reassure nervous travelers and identify people who needed to be rushed through security to make their planes. Security personnel and airline representatives would have actual information, and also have been trained in effective customer service. (Did I mention, earlier in the day before this fiasco a gate agent stood painting her nails and ignoring us as we stood in front of her for several minutes? Even after I said, aloud although not loudly, to mr. flea, "well, dear, she's clearly doing some very important nail-painting, so we'll just have to wait.")
Rant over. And then we arrived at our airport and had a lovely taxi driver who talked to us about the wonderful experiences of parenthood and I was all better because through the whole fiasco all I wanted was someone to be NICE to us, or even to admit to us with an inclusively ironic shrug that yes, it was a fiasco, ti na kanoume, but it will be okay. Which it was. Thank you, nice taxi-man.
Ah the joys of modern US airline travel. Today's fiasco was the evacuation of terminal B at the Philadelphia airport towards the end of our 3 hour layover, the subsequent hour and a half wait to return through security, the being sent to the security check at Terminal C at a run to make our plane, then running back to terminal B where the plane was. Happily, the making of our plane, due as far as I can tell to the remnants of Hurricane Charlie delaying the flight. Thank you, hurricane.
The evacuation of the terminal was a classic fiasco. At no time were we ever told officially that the terminal was being evacuated; we were simply waved in various directions by security guards. There was never any announcement over the loudspeaker, just occasional bursts of yelling by said security guards, several of whom did not speak adequate english to communicate what was going on. None of whom were polite. Had there been an actual emergency, we would probably have all been killed. As it was, I was in danger of killing someone, possibly myself through implosive rage. I never found out why the terminal was evacuated. At no time were we informed of anything. There was no communication from the airlines about what was happening to the flights that were affected. While we were waiting in the security line to reenter the terminal (the line extended into the Marriott Hotel and wound around their conference rooms; the hotel people were far and away the most professional staff I saw, not that they had any idea what was going on) our flight disappeared from the "departures" screen. I ran down to the ticketing area and asked an agent what was the what, and she said the airlines didn't run the "departures" screen, the city did (?), and so when scheduled departure times passed the flights were removed from the screen (this has never been the case at any airports I have frequented), and they'd hold our flight "for a certain amount of time" and then if we missed the flight they would "re-accomodate" us. Like they'd been so fucking accomodating up to that point.
So. If I ran the zoo, if there had to be terminal evacuations, they would be done like this: announcements, over the loudspeaker, in clearly articulated english, spanish, and other languages that might have significant concentrations of native speakers. Security personnel directing traffic would have megaphoes so they could be heard, and they would be polite, and they would tell people where to go and what to do once they got there. As the lines formed to re-enter the terminal, there would be priority given in order of whose flights were leaving first. I mean, we were all holding boarding cards - how hard would it be? Also, of course, people needing assistance (wheelchairs, elderly, small children). There would be representatives from the affected airlines to reassure nervous travelers and identify people who needed to be rushed through security to make their planes. Security personnel and airline representatives would have actual information, and also have been trained in effective customer service. (Did I mention, earlier in the day before this fiasco a gate agent stood painting her nails and ignoring us as we stood in front of her for several minutes? Even after I said, aloud although not loudly, to mr. flea, "well, dear, she's clearly doing some very important nail-painting, so we'll just have to wait.")
Rant over. And then we arrived at our airport and had a lovely taxi driver who talked to us about the wonderful experiences of parenthood and I was all better because through the whole fiasco all I wanted was someone to be NICE to us, or even to admit to us with an inclusively ironic shrug that yes, it was a fiasco, ti na kanoume, but it will be okay. Which it was. Thank you, nice taxi-man.