Jonny McCambridge: The London airport ordeal – hidden items in luggage and hidden charges
Somewhere, off in the distance, I can hear what sounds like the word ‘TRAY’ being yelled over and over.
I am at the back of a long queue in a London airport. We are inching ever so slowly towards the security check stations.
After a time, I can see that the shouting is coming from a corpulent gentleman in a uniform. What he is actually chanting are the words ‘Put it in the TRAY! Put it in the TRAY!’ with his voice rising dramatically at the end of the phrase.
He says it so often that it starts to sound rhythmic, almost musical to my ears. I mentally add a drum beat and hum along as if it were a song on the radio. To be fair, I’ve heard worse.
Eventually I get to the front of the line and am guided towards the conveyer belt. I’m hardly a frequent flier but I do have enough experience to know the drill. I remove my jacket and belt and put my bag in the large plastic container. I unzip it and start to remove my laptop.
Put it in the TRAY man moves towards me with surprising speed and bellows: ‘Do not remove items from your bags sir!!’
‘Uh?’ I respond.
‘Can you not follow instructions sir?’ he adds hurtfully. He points to an information board where, among a series of other points, it states that items are not to be removed from bags.
‘But I thought electronic items had to come out?’ I say, trying to restore some dignity.
‘That was the old regulations sir,’ Put it in the TRAY man says with little attempt to hide the roll of his eyes. ‘These are the new regulations.’
My bag, contentedly full, departs on its journey through the machine. I’m about to walk through the security scanner when another man, this one tall and thin, stops me.
‘Have you anything in your pocket sir?’
I pat myself down.
‘Uh no, I don’t think so.’
‘What about your left pocket sir?’
I check hurriedly.
‘Oh, it’s a tissue.’
‘Can I see it sir?’
‘You want to see my tissue?’
‘Yes, please sir.’
The tissue is removed.
‘Put it in the TRAY!’
My bag has already gone, so I have to deposit the paper hanky in a container on its own. The tray is huge and the tissue is tiny so it looks somewhat pathetic and solitary as it rolls down the moving belt.
I make it through the scanner to find that my bag has been brought to the side by a third man. I go to join him.
‘Is this your bag sir?’
‘It is.’
He is looking at an X-ray of the contents where there is a suspiciously dark, pointed object in the centre. In fairness, it does resemble the outline of a big knife.
‘It’s a glass trophy,’ I advise.
‘A glass trophy sir?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can I see it sir?’
I unzip the bag. The first things which fall out onto the desk are the underpants and socks which I had worn the previous day. The trophy, which I won at an awards ceremony the evening before, has been carefully stored in bubble-wrap. I free it and show it to the security guard. It is long and pointy and, in the wrong hands, could be lethal. The man waves an electronic wand over it before telling me that I can go.
I make it to the departure gate. I am tired and find a free seat. This is worth noting because most people do not take this approach. Instead, they begin to queue up in front of the currently unmanned desk. There is still more than 20 minutes before we will board but there are already around 50 people standing.
This is a feature of the human condition which has always fascinated me. I have a seat on this flight. 16B. I know this because it was allocated when I checked in online. To have chosen my seat would have cost me money, so I allowed the airline to randomly select it. Inevitably, I am placed in the middle of a row.
But the point remains that I have a seat. Whether I stand and queue or sit and rest my legs, the outcome remains the same. I will be sitting in 16B. The queue grows ever longer.
Two men in waistcoats eventually come to the desk. One advises that speedy boarding will be done first. He asks everybody else to take a seat. The queue does not retreat. In fact, if anything it begins to inch further forward towards the desk. It all feels a bit ominous.
Passengers begin to be processed. One of the men, who may be related to ‘Put it in the TRAY’ man, bellows repeatedly ‘Speedy boarding ONLY!’.
A couple attempt to get through the desk but are rebuffed. The now clearly exasperated airline man raises his voice even louder.
‘I told you speedy boarding only! Will you please retake your seat!’
The male passenger roars back: ‘We can’t retake our seat because we never took a seat in the first place!’ and then smiles at his partner, clearly pleased with his retort.
The couple refuse to move from the front of the queue, leading passengers behind to enquire ‘Can we get past? We’re speedy boarding.’
I am the last person to board the plane. I am pleased that that I’ve managed to avoid extra charges. As I am passing the desk, the man asks to inspect the size of my bag, which is larger than when I flew out due to the addition of the glass trophy and some presents for my son.
He looks sadly at me.
‘This bag is too big to go under the seat in front sir. You’ll have to store it in the overhead locker.’
‘Uh…ok. Is there a difference?’
‘Yes, it’s a charge of £5.99.’
I get on the plane and locate seat 16B. I need a sleep.