Airport Anxiety

I arrived back in Crested Butte from Italy after 36 sleepless hours of flights, layovers and airports, thankful to hit the sweet tarmac of Gunnison Airport. Travel, especially by air, is usually not the enjoyable journey it once was and Crested Butte is readying itself to receive the hordes of justifiably irritated vacationers dropped at our doorstep after having to deal with long lines, delayed flights, nasty ticket agents, indifferent attendants, whining sugar-buzzed kids, lost luggage and skis. Is it any wonder they board the bus with jaws snapping like annoyed crocodiles?

Once they've been ushered in by Alpine Express to the threshold of We're Glad You're Here Land, things get much better for the traveler as they ease their road weariness with the recommended vodka and chocolate followed hopefully by gallons of rehydration before hitting the slopes.

One of the worse scenarios for airport anxiety and time warp jet lag started when I discovered the redeemed air mileage from my credit card, supposedly blackout free and airline unlimited, had a catch – I had to use the required, less than knowledgeable booking agent the company employed. The travel genius, having the planning efficiency of a slug, routed my return flight through Frankfurt, Germany instead of the direct flight from Rome to Denver, assuring me that it was then nonstop on to Denver. She didn't tell me about the 7-hour layover at Frankfurt or the plane change in Washington DC through customs... which wasn't even on the ticket. The overnight on DIA's floor would have been unnecessary with a direct flight from Rome however the Washington flight arrived after midnight, a full 7 hours before the Mountain Mangler left for Gunnison.

Frankfurt Airport makes the legends of German engineering superiority fall into the laughable rumor category. All the wings are separated by non secure hubs and an occasional booth selling small bottles of water for $7.50 American dollars – which means if you have to get from A to D, there are 4 full security checkpoints – shoes off and half undressed, computers and cells phones out, liquids and gels into plastic baggies and the mandatory hand held electronic body scanner after already walking through the beeping metal detector. If you bought water in between wings logically thinking you were through security, they made you throw it out.

“But I just bought this bottle at that cart there in B Wing,” I pleaded with the security officer.
“Sorry, no water allowed through security,” the fraulein commanded. I raise my bottle in mock toast to a Japanese girl who had also decided that water cost too much to recycle back to the vendor from security trash and together we down the contents. Each time thinking I was through security, I bought another water only to have to drink it all in front of the airport gestapo. Somehow, in their minimalist ingenuity, the Germans neglected to install bathrooms between these wings.

Finally at the destination gate, a large unattended industrial room of glass and vents, there isn't a soul in the site – no signage or ticket assistants, flight information, arrival or departure boards, airlines serviced – no information of any nature was to be found. No plugs for phones or computers, let alone an internet connection, I find a soda machine in a corner plugged into a single socket – I hook up for the long 7 hour layover only to be visited by a security guard about half an hour later, “You must leave the area at once so we can perform a security check of this wing,” he demands. Escorted down the blocks-long corridor back outside of the checkpoint, I must dismantle myself again, empty my water bottle and get through the entire security gate process before re-entry into the wing to board a flight hours later and gladly bolt out of Germany.

Here in Crested Butte we're about to enter the vortex of high travel season, which fortunately won't be as difficult for our visitors… unless they’re coming from Germany. However, when dealing with the newly arrived tourists, imagine what travel horrors they might have encountered and remember to be gentle – try to exercise a bit of patience, if not amusement – just smile and point the way to the bars... and if you're feeling exceptionally warm and fuzzy tell them you're glad they're here.

Note: The Crested Butte Chamber of Commerce in their excitement to create a one-phrase tourist marketing trick, inadvertently became the brunt of jokes with their, "We're Glad You're Here" slogan.