Terminal Trials
I write this in sympathy as, for once, we have been spared the tribulations faced by passengers going through Heathrow’s new Terminal 5 these past few weeks.
Yesterday, about 5cm of snow left hundreds of passengers stranded overnight, where they slept on thin mats and under cardboard boxes after having spent the day doing the rounds from check-in to baggage claim as their flights were cancelled at the last minute up to five times in a row.
Many papers were leading with pictures of passengers huddling under thin blankets and headlines declaring the Terminal Five shambles a national embarrassment and as bringing shame to London.
In my opinion, the shame belongs firmly in the laps of the world’s least favourite airline whose bosses are responsible for operations at the new terminal. From what I read in yesterday’s Evening Standard, nine out of ten of the thousands of lost luggage items that have accumulated may never be reunited with their owners as staff shortages and renewed glitches continue to pile up.
I read the article with incredulity, wondering what could possibly have caused these renewed delays until one Swiss family pointed out laconically: “Our flight was meant to go at 7pm but we were told it was delayed until after nine this morning. This was apparently due to the snow which had fallen in the morning.”(News, p.5)
In all fairness, I don’t remember when snow last settled in London. It may have been as long ago as 1990 when I broke my little finger in a snowball fight that escalated in Hampstead Heath. But snow and frost in April are not unprecedented and an international airport ought to be prepared for such eventualities.
Meanwhile, we had fun waking up in a winter wonderland with the sun glittering on sugared tree branches and the kids’ laughter ringing through the windows. Even the ‘hood’s cynical teenager joined in the frolics, their usual sullenness forgotten.
I had missed the news on Saturday evening as we were seeing some mates, but the snow had been forecast to a generally incredulous response.
“My son was practically bursting with excitement,” sighed one of the blokes in the pub yesterday, “so of course I promised he could drag me out of bed if it really should snow. And he did: at 7 am! But we were the first people out, all was quiet and there were no footsteps on the ground. It was magical.”
Denni