Maybe they did not want to harass a lowly government lawyer, but that weird company that runs Schiphol airport or that strange army called the TSA that runs America's airports just floored me with their laid back, laissez-faire, couldn't-give-a-damn style. Schiphol, first. The Nitpicker touched on this some time back and it wasn't until I found myself in the cattle-class lounge that I truly appreciated just how far behind Kenya really is. This gem from the Nitpicker is spot on accurate:
"Apart from the fact that the shops, restaurants, lounges and rest areas are of the highest quality with very friendly and professional staff, the visual layout of the airport is a constant reminder that there is more that lies to the country outside the confines of the terminal buildings. The success of the customer experience at Schiphol means that there are several repeat customers. 67% of the total passenger throughput in Schiphol are from outside the Netherlands."
As a passenger on transit I did not have to deal with immigration officials à la Johannesburg. Schiphol has these conveniently located terminals on which one can confirm their itineraries without having to trouble the professional, polite, English-speaking airport staff. The eight cumulative hours I spent in Schiphol's Lounge 3 were among the most restful I have ever had in an airport, Jo'burg's Oliver R Tambo International's and Sydney International's departure lounges included. Not even Dulles' International Airport's excellent facilities came close to Schiphol's. Before the Kenya Airports Authority can claim that it has achieved its vision of providing “globally competitive airport facilities and services” it will have to flee from the ridiculously cartoonishly hostile manner in which it treats its customers.
Now to Dulles International Airport. One thing it has in common with Schiphol but absolutely not with Jomo Kenyatta International Airport is the ease with which one can move from point to point without having to take of shoes, laptops out of laptop bags, jackets or belts. That was the most shocking bit of coming through immigration control at Dulles: a casual confirmation of the details on my passport and visa and I was out of there in twenty minutes. Not the hour and half I shuffled in line when the hideous shuttle finally deposited me and the four hundred and twenty five other KLM passengers at the hostile garage passing for International Arrivals at JKIA. But Dulles outdid itself with the "ushers" at immigration control who made sure lines moved smoothly and counters were always manned. Not for Dulles to have unmanned counters when three 747s drop down on the airport at the same time. Something else that the folks overseeing JKIA could pick up from the much-unfairly-maligned Americans.
We are a century behind in customer-oriented service. We are paternalistic, defensive, hostile and passive aggressive. JKIA's beautiful T1-A is proof that you can put lipstick on a pig, but it will still be a pig. That terminal is beautiful; the wackjobs running it are the Orwellian pigs that made life so difficult for everyone on that farm.
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