From: ljd at mail.bcpl.net (Laurence Doering) Newsgroups: talk.bizarre Subject: Pourquoi je deteste l'aeroport Dorval / Why I hate Dorval Airport Message-ID: <95pjsg$f1e@mail.bcpl.net> Date: 6 Feb 2001 14:38:56 -0500
I hate Dorval Airport because the Montreal airport authority apparently believes that passengers are lemming-like creatures with an instinctive understanding of the arcana involved in handling checked bags through a plane change with a final destination in a foreign country imprinted in their tiny little branes at birth.
I hate Dorval Airport because my flight from Quebec was delayed by half an hour due to the fact that someone screwed up the weight and balance calculations (eventually solved by callously throwing a woman on board and her baby out into the snow, yes really, though I suppose it wasn't really as bad as it sounds, because they also disembarked her luggage and the baby's stroller, and the De Havilland Dash-8 was still parked next to the terminal building), giving me only about 25 minutes to try to make my connecting flight.
I hate Dorval Airport because nobody tells you that, if you're changing planes and your departing flight is going to the United States, your checked bag will magically appear in a special baggage claim area near the entrance to U.S. Customs and about a mile from where you arrived, not at the baggage claim near the gate where everyone else's bags are.
I hate Dorval Airport because, while you are wandering around like a stunned monkey trying to figure out where the hell you are supposed to go to catch your connecting flight, they tantalize you with barely intelligible public address system announcements that seem to mention your name telling you to return to the gate where your flight arrived. You know it was your flight that arrived at Gate 40, and that there were only about 25 people on the plane, but is the name really some creative Quebecois pronunciation of "Doering" or something else entirely? Then you discover it's impossible to go back to the gate to find out, because it's part of a one-way secured area for arriving flights which can't be reentered once you've left it.
I hate Dorval Airport because, when you try to find out from the airport cop who prevented you from going back to the gate how to escape the Orwellian nightmare your change of planes is rapidly becoming, you are told to look for "Area 99" signs (showing a black silhouette of a suitcase with the number "99" in it) as if that explained everything. There are no "99" signs anywhere in your field of view.
I hate Dorval Airport because, as you finally find a "99" sign and discover yourself in the main departures area of the airport, the sound quality of the public address system improves dramatically, allowing you to distinctly hear the final boarding call for the flight you were supposed to be on.
I hate Dorval Airport because you then discover that the next Air Canada flight to Washington is at 7:30 pm, meaning that you are going to spend the next six hours at Dorval whether you like it or not.
I hate Dorval Airport because, after getting reticketed for the later flight and beating an explanation of the Area 99 business out of the ticket clerk, you find a room with a single baggage carousel, a service counter, and a snappily-uniformed police officer on guard at a desk outside. You also discover that there are a grand total of two bags visible in the area, and neither of them is yours. There is nobody on duty at the counter.
I hate Dorval Airport because when an airport employee does show up, she makes a bunch of phone calls (in rapid French, so you can't follow what's going on) and then suggests that, since your bag should be in the room and isn't, it may well be still hanging around at Quebec's Aeroport International Jean-Lesage.
I hate Dorval Airport because the chairs in the second floor lounge area are carefully designed to ensure that, no matter what position is adopted, it will still be impossible for someone who is six feet one and weighs about 200 pounds to lean back or curl up and take a nap.
I hate Dorval Airport because, throughout all this, every airport or Air Canada employee you talk to will be uniformly helpful and friendly, forcing you to undergo the additional mental effort of maintaining a distinction between the airport itself and the people who work there instead of hating everything around you with a fine impartiality. Even the airport police are cheerful and polite. What the hell is up with that?
I hate Dorval Airport because, when you go back to Area 99 at about 5:30 to see if they found your bag, there's nobody behind the counter again. Then, when you ask the police officer outside if he knows when someone will show up, he asks you your name and then tells you yes, they found your bag, and they precleared it through U.S. Customs for you, and no, you can't pick it up because it's already in the system waiting to be loaded on your flight, and there's nothing else you need to do except clear customs yourself. This makes it extremely difficult to hate him.
You also are denied the satisfaction of hating the U.S. Customs official, because he glances at your passport, takes your declaration form, and waves you through without asking any questions whatsoever.
I hate Dorval Airport because the only bar you can go to after passing through customs is one of those dismal "Cheers" things, and George Wendt and John Ratzenberger sued Host International, Inc. over the use of their likenesses, so you will be denied the pleasure of seeing the creepy "Norm" and "Cliff" animatronic figures malfunctioning at the end of the bar.
Oh, and there's the $10 airport tax you have to pay unless you've managed to hold on to the boarding pass from your previous flight to prove you're just transiting Dorval, not actually using it, or whatever the fuck that was all about.
, ,
Je deteste l'aeroport Dorval.
I also hated the fact that the airport employee who couldn't find my bag in Area 99 advised me that the part of the airport outside the U.S. Customs area was much nicer (with several bars, all far less depressing than "Cheers") and personally escorted me back out of the transit area so I wouldn't be trapped there.
And I hated the fact that Air Canada kindly gave me a $15 meal voucher, and that I could watch many entertaining varieties of aircraft and observe truly professional snow removal operations out the window in the lounge area. Was that hulking thing way over there in the snow by a distant cargo hangar really an Antonov An-124 (NATO reporting name "Condor", the largest aircraft in existence) or were my eyes deceiving me? After hearing the final boarding call for Cubana flight 131 from Montreal to Havana, I was expecting to see some sort of ramshackle Tupolev or Ilyushin product taxi by, and was greatly surprised to see it was a Boeing 737-400. Who let Fidel Castro have shiny new American-made aircraft, anyway? Don't you Canadians know the guy's a COMMUNIST?
'Scuse me, I need to catch up on some sleep.
ljd