Herd Instinct: Luton - Belfast

Belfast, Northern Ireland - Jamie - Sunday, June 23rd, 2002 : goo

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Belfast International Airport

first comes the pong, then the stacatto of a million aluminium seatbelt buckles. people rush, people push to go nowhere fast. people hustle, people bustle to stand cramped together, agitated in the narrow aisle of this ageing boeing 737. please make sure your arm rests are down and that your seat is in the upright position.

the doors open and we have a stampede. the herd disperses. this aluminium tube. this can of stale, recycled air empties in a matter of seconds. please note that your nearest exit may be behind you.

people rush people push, to stand still, propped up against ageing baggage trolleys with squeaky wheels. people hustle, people bustle to watch the baggage conveyor not move. not an inch. not a centimetre. not until the klaxon.

the constant flamingo call of rubber on steel as the conveyor begins it's next journey to nowhere. bags, suitcases, luggage appears, some bags have coloured tape or rainbow straps tied carefully round them for ease of indentification. to shorten that split "is it mine?" second. anything to save a few airport minutes. an airport minute can be an eternity.

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dyn: this is not what i asked for!

jamie: this is not what any of us asked for

aikon: whot is these?

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