A weekly ode to the joys of moaning about your holiday, by Tim Roxborogh.
It's 2018 and there's no excuse. I'm not talking about tinpot airports in Third World countries. Yes, they have this problem too but you'd expect that. What's less explicable is that in New Zealand, with just 82 per cent of the 21st century left, you can still be sitting in a departure lounge, hear the beep of an impending intercom announcement and not have the faintest clue what's been said.
This exact thing happened in Christchurch a few days ago: Beeeeeeep: "Good afternoon ladsdfjh and gentlsdfh, flight sdfkjshdf bound for Adfjhsdkfjhsd is sdfkjshdfkjds for dfkjsdhfkjsdf. If you are seatfsdf in sdfkjsdhfkj to sdfksjdhfkjsdf, please sdfkjshdfkj now."
"I don't know what on Earth they just said," was the response from the bejandaled and stubby-clad, grey-haired chap across from me who, like us, could only assume the announcement was for him and that it broadly meant "line up now". If airport staff the world over are going to keep being exasperated at passengers trying to prematurely board before their section or flight is called, then get back to us when departure lounge announcements are more audible than whatever Elton John is singing in Bennie and the Jets. Don't deny it, beyond "B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets", you've been lost these past 40-odd years. "Hey kids, shake a loo together, the dop lah hanging on a new to shape a noose together, will kill the fatter car tonight so stick around ..."