Australians appear to be a pretty organised lot when it comes to air travel.
A recent survey by British Airways has revealed more than half of us favour the stress-free path to takeoff, arriving at the airport when the check-in desk has opened but with plenty of time up our sleeve. A conscientious 46 per cent arrive before check-in for their flight has even begun.
When the call goes out for boarding, almost half of us obediently head straight to the departure gate, while 47 per cent hold back to avoid the rush.
A minority bunch of thrill seekers — 4 per cent of those surveyed — won’t approach the gate until the “final call” message is being shouted over the PA system.
All of which leads me to a confession. As the summer holiday season kicked into gear in mid-December, I did something I have never done. I missed a flight.
It would be convenient to blame Sydney’s appalling traffic conditions. Airlines must surely thank their lucky stars — or the NSW roads department — for all that revenue raised reissuing tickets to harried travellers who fail to reach the departure gates at Mascot on time.
It would be convenient to blame my significant other, who has taken an infuriatingly lackadaisical approach to departure times since he first held a passport.
It would be convenient to blame my children, just because they are convenient to blame.
Inconveniently, I can only blame myself. I simply didn’t allow enough time, given the above factors, to get to the airport. This puts me, on this occasion at least, in that 2 per cent of travellers who are so disorganised it’s a miracle they ever get out their front door.
