Flashback Four: Terminal Decline

So, believe it or not, last month when I was on holiday I had the misfortune for my flight back to land at terminal five. Sorry, I mean Terminal Five, as it has now become known; the sort of phrase which should be uttered in a similar tone to that which you'd use to announce a B-movie horror film. Much mayhem would surely ensue.

It started badly. My flight was delayed by three hours on departure, due to a previous delay on the incoming flight. This allowed me another three hours with my girlfriend and a chance for a nice meal as opposed to being force-fed airplane food. So far, it's proving a clear disaster.

But wait! Surely the sting is in the tail?

We come into landing, and as we're about 100m altitude and just about at the end of our descent, we shoot back up again because the preceding plane is lost and has stopped in the middle of the runway to ask for directions. So thirteen minutes later, we're on the ground once more.

Surely this is the start of my worries. I get through the state-of-the-art gate, immigration, passport control and similar. I must also say that the terminal itself is a beautiful building.

But now I approached the baggage hall, where surely disaster would befall me.

Yet within five minutes, my bag arrived. I went through customs, and out into the arrivals hall - a mere fourty minutes after landing.

Quite frankly, were it not for the newspaper bombardment I'd have thought that Terminal 5 was a great, efficient system that was a drastic improvement over normal airport waits.