Unhinged; Dear Airports, We Need to Talk

Dear Airports,

We need to talk.

First of all, I love you. I really do.

I love the departures board. I love watching aircraft taxi towards the runway. I love the anticipation of knowing that in a few hours I could be sitting beside a pool, wandering through a souk or drinking something cold overlooking the Mediterranean.

I even love the strange little airport universe where a glass of prosecco at 5:30am is perfectly acceptable behaviour.

But somewhere along the way, you've started behaving less like the gateway to our holidays and more like a very elaborate machine designed to separate us from our money.

And frankly, I have questions.

Quite a lot of them.

1. Airport Parking: Am I Leaving My Car or Buying a Small Share in the Runway?

This morning, Sky News reported that the Competition and Markets Authority has been asked to investigate airport drop-off charges following rising costs.

And I thought, FINALLY.

Because why, exactly, does pulling up outside a terminal, removing two suitcases and saying goodbye to someone now require a financial transaction?

I'm not renting the parking space for the afternoon.

I'm not asking you to valet the car.

I'm not expecting a complimentary wash, wax and tyre inspection.

I'm stopping for approximately three minutes.

And those three minutes are no longer a pleasant family farewell. They're a Formula One pit stop with emotional consequences.

"QUICK! GET THE BAGS!"

"WHERE'S YOUR PASSPORT?"

"STOP HUGGING YOUR MOTHER, WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!"

Meanwhile, somebody is frantically checking the clock because apparently another thirty seconds could cost the equivalent of a decent bottle of wine.

And then there's long-stay parking.

You've spent weeks finding a fantastic holiday deal, comparing hotels, flights and luggage allowances, only to discover your Ford Fiesta apparently requires its own holiday budget while you're away.

I understand that airports have operating costs. I understand traffic management and encouraging public transport.

But here's the thing.

Not everybody can conveniently get to an airport by public transport, particularly at four in the morning, with children, luggage or additional accessibility needs.

And charging people to be dropped off doesn't magically create a suitable train service.

Worth knowing: Some airports offer free drop-off areas a little further from the terminal, sometimes with shuttle buses. Check the official airport website before travelling, and compare parking options early. Also check how payment works: at some airports, you need to pay online after leaving rather than at a barrier.

2. McDonald's, Have You Been Awarded a Michelin Star Without Telling Anyone?

Let's discuss airport food.

Specifically, the moment an entirely ordinary fast-food restaurant crosses an invisible boundary and decides its burgers have acquired luxury status.

Dear McDonald's and Burger King,

I know we're in an airport.

I appreciate that your operating costs may be different.

But unless this burger has been personally prepared by a Michelin-starred chef and delivered by somebody wearing white gloves, I would appreciate an explanation for the price.

It's still a burger.

The chips are still chips.

And the paper bag hasn't suddenly become a designer handbag because we're airside.

The situation gets particularly ridiculous when you're travelling with teenagers.

Gone are the days of a little kids' meal and a carton of juice.

Now everybody wants an adult meal, somebody wants extra nuggets, somebody else wants a dessert, and apparently a single portion of chips isn't enough to sustain a growing human for the next three hours.

By the time you've fed a family of five, you're wondering whether you should have booked another night at the hotel instead.

And then there's the bottled water.

Water.

The stuff that falls out of the sky.

Apparently, once it's passed through airport security, it becomes a precious commodity.

3. The Airport Lounge Paradox

Now here's something that genuinely makes me laugh.

Sometimes, when you actually compare the costs, paying to enter an airport lounge can work out surprisingly good value against buying food and drinks in the main terminal.

Yes, really.

The place marketed as the luxurious option can sometimes be the more cost-effective one.

WHAT SORT OF FINANCIAL WITCHCRAFT IS THIS?

Obviously, not every lounge is worth the money. Facilities, prices and inclusions vary, and families need to check children's admission policies carefully.

But the fact that it's even worth comparing a lounge with a family trip to Burger King tells you something about airport pricing.

I'm giving airport lounges their own article because this deserves a proper look.

And I have thoughts.

Lots of them.

4. Security: The World's Least Relaxing Undressing Competition

Before anybody gets cross, I completely understand the importance of airport security.

It's necessary. It's essential. And the people working there have an incredibly demanding job.

But could we please agree on what we're supposed to be doing?

At one airport, liquids stay in your bag.

At another, they come out.

Laptops? Depends.

Shoes? Maybe.

Belt? Probably.

Watch? Who knows?

And somehow, despite preparing for the experience like it's a GCSE practical examination, you still end up standing beside a conveyor belt wondering which tray contains your dignity.

Then comes the repacking.

Your toiletries are in one tray.

Your handbag is in another.

Your shoes have apparently gone on holiday without you.

And you've got approximately nine seconds to reassemble your entire life before the person behind you starts sighing dramatically.

I JUST NEED MY BELT, KEVIN.

Worth knowing: Security rules can vary between airports and terminals, especially where different screening equipment is in use. Check the latest instructions for your departure airport and your return journey.

5. Gate 47: Are We Flying or Starting a Sponsored Walk?

Why is it that airports can build enormous, beautifully designed terminals with moving walkways, designer shops and fancy restaurants, but still manage to locate your departure gate approximately fourteen miles from wherever you're sitting?

You glance at the departures board.

Gate announced.

Gate 47.

Walking time: 22 minutes.

TWENTY-TWO MINUTES?

Am I catching a flight or completing my Duke of Edinburgh's Award?

And naturally, the gate is announced precisely seventeen seconds after you've bought a boiling-hot coffee.

So now you're power-walking through the terminal with a suitcase, a handbag, a coffee and three children who have all suddenly developed completely different walking speeds.

One needs the toilet.

Another can't find their boarding pass.

Somebody has disappeared into WHSmith.

And you're beginning to wonder whether the plane might actually be parked in another county.

6. Seating. Have We Considered It?

Dear Airports,

People sit down.

It's something humans have been doing for quite some time.

Yet some terminals appear to have devoted approximately 90% of their available floor space to retail outlets and the remaining 10% to seventeen chairs and a bin.

Why?

Why can I buy a designer handbag, three bottles of perfume, a giant Toblerone and a neck pillow shaped like a giraffe, but finding five seats together feels like winning the lottery?

And if you do manage to find somewhere to sit, there's a good chance that one person will be perched on the edge of a tiny table, balancing their food on approximately four inches of available surface.

Because apparently designing a terminal around the needs of actual passengers is a radical concept.

7. The Charging Socket Hunger Games

It's 2026.

We can fly across continents, navigate using satellites and carry our boarding passes on our phones.

But finding a working electrical socket in an airport can still require the investigative skills of Sherlock Holmes.

There will be one.

Possibly two.

One doesn't work.

The other is occupied by somebody charging six devices and a vape.

Meanwhile, you're standing there with 4% battery, your boarding pass on your phone, and the growing realisation that your entire holiday depends on a tiny rectangle of glass surviving another forty minutes.

I don't need a futuristic charging station with mood lighting.

I just need a plug.

Preferably one that works.

8. The Announcements Nobody Can Understand

Can we discuss airport announcements?

Because somehow the public-address system can deliver a perfectly clear message about duty-free discounts.

But the moment somebody needs to announce an important gate change, the speaker sounds like it's been dropped into a swimming pool.

"WOULD PASSENGER [INCOMPREHENSIBLE] TRAVELLING TO [POSSIBLY BARCELONA] PLEASE PROCEED TO GATE [SOMETHING BETWEEN FOUR AND NINETY-SEVEN]."

Excellent.

Very helpful.

I'll just make an educated guess and hope for the best.

And joking aside, clear information matters.

Not everybody can hear announcements easily. Not everybody can move quickly between gates. Not everybody can cope comfortably with sudden changes.

Good signage, reliable flight information and accessible assistance aren't luxuries. They're part of making travel work for everyone.

9. And Finally, the Airport Pint

I appreciate that airports have different operating costs.

But why does a pint that costs a perfectly ordinary amount in a perfectly ordinary pub suddenly require a conversation with your financial adviser once you've passed security?

It's beer.

Not liquid gold.

And don't even get me started on the tea.

Because if you're going to charge me a small fortune for a cup of tea, the absolute bare minimum is that the teabag makes a meaningful contribution to the experience.

A cup of vaguely beige water is not acceptable.

We're British.

We have standards.

Well, at least when it comes to tea.

10. A Little Appreciation Before I Get Banned from Every Airport in Britain

Now, in the interests of fairness, I want to say something.

Airports are complicated places.

Thousands of passengers, tight schedules, security requirements, baggage systems, aircraft movements and people travelling with completely different needs.

And there are some genuinely wonderful people working in them.

The security officer who takes a moment to reassure a nervous passenger.

The assistance team helping somebody navigate a busy terminal.

The gate agent remaining cheerful despite being asked the same question 400 times.

The cleaners keeping the toilets presentable at five in the morning.

The café workers serving an endless queue of tired, hungry travellers.

You are not the problem.

And frankly, you deserve considerably more appreciation than you probably receive.

My issue isn't with the people keeping airports running.

It's with the feeling that every stage of getting to our holiday has become another opportunity to charge us for something.

So, Dear Airports…

I love you.

I really do.

You're the gateway to adventures, reunions, honeymoons, family holidays and places we've spent years dreaming about.

That first glimpse of the departures board still gives me butterflies.

I still get excited watching aircraft taxi past the terminal windows.

And I'll probably always think there's something magical about walking through departures and knowing the world is waiting.

But please.

Could we make the experience a little less financially exhausting?

Could we have clearer pricing, more comfortable seating, working charging sockets and food that doesn't require a payment plan?

Could we stop turning a three-minute goodbye into a competitive sport?

And could somebody please explain why I can occasionally get a comfortable seat, food and drinks in an airport lounge for not much more than a fast-food meal in the terminal?

Because I genuinely need answers.

Yours sincerely,

A woman who loves flying but would quite like to reach the aircraft with some money left for the actual holiday.

P.S. If you're charging me a small fortune for a cup of tea, at least make it a decent one.

P.P.S. The next person who tells me my gate is a twenty-minute walk away after I've bought a hot coffee is carrying my suitcase.

The Unhinged Edit is where genuine travel observations, everyday frustrations and a healthy dose of sarcasm collide. The opinions are mine, the exaggerations are intentional, and the aim is to make travel a little more enjoyable — preferably without needing a second mortgage.

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