This time to Antwerp, flying out from London City, an airport I last used back in 2002. Travelling out there via the DLR proved interesting, for in my mind’s eye the image I carry of the area beyond Canary Wharf involves Bob Hoskins as ‘Arold Shaaand, piles of bricks and a lot of buddleia. I suppose ‘Arold is still there in spirit, as his aim was to make a lot of money through property redevelopment and somebody has clearly done that. My route planning proved to have been flawed and Bank rather than Tower Gateway would have been less hassle and fewer steps. (though all steps contributed to my performance in our current corporate “get healthier!” campaign, so perhaps I should claim that I planned the route with that in mind)
Once at the airport, check in and security were straightforward. CityJet have a T-30 start to OLCI which I had done (SEQ1 ! but with only 50 passengers maximum perhaps not a glorious achievement) and having put the boarding pass into Passbook all I had to do was wave my phone at a scanner and self service bag tagging took but a few seconds.
Once through security the departure area had the usual mix of retail opportunities though all at a reduced scale, save for the Toblerone.
CityJet also advertise that you need to check in only 30 minutes before your flight (15 if travelling with hand luggage) but I am one of those worriers who would always rather be early and so I had plenty of time to grab a seat in the bar area at which I could consume a beer, take advantage of the free wifi (to log in to our company sites to say “Hey! It’s me! Working on a Sunday!” Well, it is appraisal time) and people watch. I’d expected the vast majority of passengers to be, like myself, heading out in order to take 9 am meetings in Europe but was busy with a significant sprinkling of families and returning weekenders. Some of them received a bonus free night, as a flight to Jersey was cancelled.
Called on time down to a suspiciously Luton like holding area, but only for a couple of minutes and then out to the Fokker F50.
Good leg room, leather seats and a definite feeling that you are flying. None of the disconnected reality in a big jet at eight miles high, this is propellers and really being able to see your house from here.
Service was snack of biscuits and (for me) a beer,
before beginning decent into what was announced as a “slightly drizzly” Antwerp. Well, that’s the same “slight drizzle” as Manchester gets so by the time the steps had dropped and I’d walked to the terminal I was soaked.
Waiting by the baggage terminal was interminable as you could actually see the baggage handler – singular – off doing other stuff before he got round to unloading the aircraft (note to self – cabin baggage only next time).
Cut to exterior shot of small airport in the rain, locking up for the night. A rotund bald man stands there, rather damply, waiting for a taxi. There are none….
We can get better, because we're not dead yet
I'm still smiling at the description of the man waiting for the taxi I hope the wait wasn't too long.