A pre-emptive rant

I've just booked my flights to go to the RWA conference this year. London to Atlanta, nonstop, hussah!

And then...

And then, I check the Atlanta airport website to see what the terminal is like, and how easy it's going to be to meet up with a friend flying in from Texas. International flights often come in at a different terminal, you see, or a different arrivals area.

Just for those of you who've never had the pleasure, this is what usually happens when you fly in to, say, a London airport. That's London, with a population bigger than that of the whole state of Georgia, which has been bombed and set fire to and bombed again more or less continuously since about 1605 (oh, we knew how to deal with terrorists then). You fly in, get off the plane, hand over your passport and whatever visa-type things you need. Then you pick up your bag, go through customs, get in a car and bugger off away from the airport.

In Atlanta, things are different. I just watched--three times, in astonishment--a little Flash presentation guiding me through the process. You land, and go to Immigration. Then you pick up your baggage. Then you go through customs. So far, so normal. Until you get to the 'courtesy baggage check' where you give your bags back, and go through more security screening (you know, the doorway that scans you, the conveyor for your bag and coat, taking your shoes off--honesty can anyone tell me why?--being wanded, just like before you got on the plane, since when you could have had no possible opportunity to acquire anything hazardous whatsoever, except for a bad attitude). Then you get on a train that has several stops (you aren't told at this stage which stop you'll need. I presume it's all unclear when you get there) until you finally arrive at the terminal, where you can go and queue up again and re-retrieve your bags. Then you are allowed to proceed to the first aid stand where you will be treated for severe dementia.

I mean, really. This is for international passengers. To Atlanta. The shortest possible distance you could have travelled internationally is from Totonto, 750 miles away, which at a guess would be about three or four hours on a plane. If you've come from Europe, you're going to have been on that plane for nine hours, minimum. If you're like me and have travelled from London, you'll have been up since about 6am and when you land it will be about 9.30pm by your own bodyclock. Of those fifteen and a half hours, you will have spent nine and a half in the air, in a tin can with the inevitable wailing children, inadequate food, snotty stewardesses (God, I wish I could afford First Class) and gigantically fat neighbouring passenger with body odour who whines constantly that their TV screen doesn't work properly; and a further two or three hours in the airport before you even took off, being interrogated with ridiculously pointless questions such as how long you've owned your luggage and how you travelled to the airport (no, I'm actually serious about those two. Heard them personally).

Landing after a nine and a half hour flight--nine and a half hours, people, longer than most of us get to sleep every night--your brain isn't working anyway. All you want to do is get to your hotel, drink a large, highly alcoholic beverage, and go to sleep. Waiting at a luggage carousel is hard enough when you can't even remember where you've come from, let alone what colour your suitcase is. And then you have to do it twice.

Why? Why, why, why? It's not safer! It's not more secure! All it does, and I am honestly very sad to report this, is fill the inbound, international passengers with unmitigated vitriol towards the unfathomable creatures who planned all this. It does, in short, make everyone hate America just that little bit more. If you really want people to stop bombing you, then stop pissing them off.

It's not rocket science. It's not even commercial aviation.

I'll probably not be allowed in now.