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Customs,
Civility and the Lack of It
By
Richard Moore
I
get extremely peeved at airport officers who get officiously ratty
at travellers.
Now
I understand they have to deal with people heading off on adventures,
or arriving back suntanned and relaxed, but they are being paid
for a fairly easy job and they should have respect for well-behaved
travellers.
Yet,
as many times as not, they just can't help themselves and throw
their weight around against those people.
I'm
a pretty happy flyer and all I want to do is get through security,
buy a few botts of duty free and then write, read or watch a movie.
Surprisingly,
I'm not a terrorist - having no particular ideology that makes me
want to blow a plane out of the sky when I am sitting in it - and
I do not object to the ever more stringent security levels we travellers
must put up with.
As
long as airlines feed me, water me and then let me enjoy a movie
I'm happy as a sandboy.
Anyway,
on a trip to Melbourne this week I've had both the good and the
bad of airline travel.
Arrival
at Tullamarine airport was a breeze - surprisingly so - because
Saturday mornings are normally nightmares with 15 bazillion flights
on the tarmac leading to spending half your holiday in the Immigration
queue.
This
time it was about five minutes to zip through both Customs and Immigration
- a feat unheard of since Moses parted the Red Sea.
However,
that miracle did follow a 20-minute wait on the plane while a suitable
ladder was found to get us off the flying tube while we were parked
on the runway halfway to blinking Sydney courtesy of airport extensions.
Anyway,
after a fabulous week in the most liveable city in the world - we
zipped out to the airport for the flight home.
In
security we took out all our metal bits and pieces, together with
wallets, passports, sunglasses et al, and put them on a tray for
x-raying. Laptops, cameras, and jackets also went through.
Then
- for the first time in hundreds of flight - I was asked to go through
a body scanner.
What?
Do I look like freaking ImanOverladen Bin?
Ah
well, there I was in the circular cubicle as something went swoosh
swoosh around me. Oh I have to put my hands in the air? Like surrendering?
Okay. How about a dance? So I did my celebrated wiggly-knee dance.
The security guys and gals thought it the best one they'd seen all
day and smiled as I got clearance with the word OK flashed on the
screen.
Alrighty
then, on to Customs.
We
got there and watched as the Customs woman ahead laughed with the
couple before us and called us through.
My
partner, an American, went first. She smiled, handed over the documents
and then Meredith of the White Glasses stared at her.
Not
a please, thanks or a smile.
Then
she curtly snarled: "Move your hand away from your face!" Surprised
by the rudeness, my good lady did so.
Hmmmm,
she can't like Americans I thought and as my turn was next I bounced
over and presented my best passport-photo lookalike impression.
She
wasn't thrilled.
"This
isn't the place to be cheeky, or stare like that around here," she
said coldly.
Clearly
she was an Aussie who didn't like Australians either.
"We can take it the wrong way and we'll treat you as being suspicious."
Ooooooo
Ms Freaking Happy, how about I tell you what I really think of your
attitude, your hair and those bloody stupid glasses that may look
fine on a teenage girl but not on a 50-something.
But
as all travellers know, if you want to be publicly crucified you
just need to annoy one of the little tin gods of the airport and
so my good lady hosed me down to cool the bubbling anger.
I'm
prepared for a bit of verbal biffo with rude airport staff because
being an experienced traveller I never go over the official limits
of anything, carry items that could be remotely deemed dangerous
or make stupid jokes about bombs.
So what's the worst they can do to me?
Search
my bags. Go ahead.
Do
a body search or even don the rubber gloves? Fine with me, just
check the prostate while you are there fellas.
Delay
me enough to delay the flight? Fat chance of that happening - the
costs are too high.
So
airport staff should learn to be perpetually civil to paying customers
who, as they fly on the big silver bird drinking a nice shiraz,
may be penning a newspaper column that will find its way on to the
internet about mannerless nonentities.
Then
again, they should just be nice because without travellers they
are on the dole.
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