Unexpected Pleasures at a Terminal Near You.

WITH SCATTERED EXCEPTIONS, airports don’t have a whole lot going for them. They’re noisy, dirty, poorly laid out, and just generally hostile to passengers. As my regular readers are well aware, I’ve made this point in numerous prior posts — perhaps too many times.

Now, so that I’m not always harping on the negative, here’s something different. “Hidden Airport” is a semi-regular feature highlighting little-known spots of unexpected pleasantness.

— NEW: Vonnegut at KIND

I wrote about the KIND Gallery in Indianapolis once before (scroll down). It’s time for a revisit, now that they’ve got an installation honoring the city’s favorite literary son, Kurt Vonnegut.

It’s funny how this happened: I was walking along the concourse towards my gate, and I said to myself: They should have something about Vonnegut here at the airport. Twenty seconds later I saw the KIND Gallery and its new exhibit.

There are books, of course, a typewriter (the significance of which is unclear), photos, and some of the author’s sketches.

This is a big one for me. I had long-time infatuation with Vonnegut’s work, beginning in my teens and running into my early 20s. I think I’ve read everything he published. Just a few months ago I re-read “Jailbird,” my favorite of his novels.

 

— FROM IDLEWILD TO JFK

No sooner did I write about the 100th anniversary presentation at Boston-Logan (see below), when I came across a similar setup at JFK. “From Idlewild to JFK” is a collage of photos following the history of the airport we all love to hate.

Kennedy is a dysfunctional mess half the time, and most of its architectural highlights have been demolished, but it’s nonetheless the most historically significant airport in the nation, if not the world, and this exhibit hits the bullet points: Saarinen’s TWA’s terminal, the Worldport, Pan Am 707s, the Concorde.

The whole thing is a bit half-assed, frankly. The airport deserves more than just a temporary gateside exhibit with a wall’s worth of black-and-white photos, and much is ignored (how is there no mention of I.M Pei’s famous “Sundrome” terminal?).

But it’s better than nothing, and a welcome distraction in the otherwise boring terminal 4. It’s over near the A gates. Have a seat in one of the economy class chairs and relax for a few.

The runway graphics on the floor are cute, I guess. Except there’s no runway 23 at JFK.

 

— Green Bay Game

I discovered this foosball setup near gate B2 at the pleasant little airport in Green Bay, Wisconsin.

I suppose it could get a little rowdy, but on the morning I was there a couple of kids were quietly knocking the ball back and forth.

Foosball is table soccer, which seems anathema in NFL-obsessed Green Bay (I was taking the Packers to Denver on a charter flight), but what the heck. It’s a welcoming, low-tech, old-school sort of distraction you don’t find much at airports anymore.

 

— Historical Logan

In terminal E at Boston’s Logan International, near the new security checkpoint, is an exhibit called “Logan 100,” commemorating the airport’s centennial. It’s a collaboration between Massport and the Boston Globe.

We Bostonians take a unusual civic pride in our little airport. More than a mere gateway, Logan is a part of the city. It’s a vibe you can feel as the seven LCD screens sequence through a century’s worth of archival photos, showcasing the people, planes, and events that helped shape Boston over the last century: VIP arrivals (The Beatles, Muhammad Ali), airlines that have come and gone (Northeast, Air New England), and the unforgettable headlines (the Blizzard of ’78, the arrival of Pope John Paul II in 1979).

What’s not here are Logan’s more infamous moments. The Delta and Eastern crashes, for example, or the World Airways incident in 1982. But that’s to be expected, I guess.

If you’re flying out, take a few minutes to stop by. You don’t need to be an airline nerd to appreciate the pictures.

Congrats to Massport and the Globe for having the good sense to come up with this. Now, if you’d please turn off those unbearable promotional PAs that blare in the connector walkway between A and E.

 

— BANGKOK GREEN

The new concourse at Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport has opened. A short train ride connects it to the main terminal. The gates are designated with “S,” for satellite.

In one of the more peculiar flourishes I’ve seen at an airport, several of the gateside waiting areas include a wide section laid with artificial grass. I’m not entirely sure what the intent is, but I like it.

Do with it what you will: sprawl out and relax; let your bratty kids run around. If you’ve got your clubs, maybe practice your swing. I laid down for a few minutes and stretched.

You don’t see a lot of green in airports, and the effect is strangely pleasant and refreshing — even if it’s fake. I think they should go one better and install some plants or small trees along the perimeter.

 

— MSPee BREAK

Yes, it’s a mosaic in the vestibule of an airport men’s room. Minneapolis-St. Paul, concourse F. The artist is Josie Lewis, who presumably is this person. (She may or may not have a similar installation in the nearby women’s bathroom. For obvious reasons I didn’t check. Maybe a reader can report back.)

It feels wasted, maybe, to have such a pretty work of art in such an easy-to-miss space, where the only people who see it are rushing to take a whiz. On the other hand, aesthetic non-sequitirs like this can be charming, popping up where you least expect them. It’s aviation-themed, too, if that’s not too much of a stretch.

 

— NORFOLK SPECIAL

This one isn’t so hidden. Indeed it’s the entire main terminal of the airport in Norfolk, Virginia.

I’ve always been fond of ORF, and was happy to find myself there on a layover recently, for the first time in at least a dozen years. We love the clean, almost Scandinavian-style architecture, the unencumbered spaciousness, the skylights. I was able to get two great photos; one evening and one daytime, from more or less the same vantage point.

U.S. airports can be dreadful. Sometimes it’s the smaller ones that set themselves apart. Norfolk is a great example.

 

— CHAIRLESS IN BOSTON

This one is an almost. It’s a squander.

Where we are is Boston, at the south end of the pedestrian bridge connecting terminals A, E, and the central garage, just at the top of the escalator. This tucked-away alcove, right at the end, is a sunny, quiet spot out of range of the loudspeakers, with great views of the tarmac and the skyline beyond. It’s a perfect little spot. Except, there’s nowhere to sit. A hideaway like this needs to be savored. We dig the bottlcap sculpture, don’t get me wrong, but why are there no chairs?

The pedestrian bridge, in place for about twenty years now, was a welcome addition to Logan and architecturally handsome, the floor inlaid fetchingly with sea life mosaics created by Somerville artist Jane Goldman. But if you’re making the walk, the experience is ruined by a constant bombardment of public address announcements. What could be a relaxing six-minute stroll is spoiled by a tape-loop of needless “Welcome to Boston” promotions and parking instructions. This alcove offers a relaxing escape, but without a place to sit it’s easily overlooked.

Note to Massport: Chairs. Get some chairs. And turn off the bloody PAs while you’re at it.

 

— CINCINNATI READING ROOM

Cincinnati International (CVG) isn’t as as bustling as it once was, with Delta drawing down service after its merger with Northwest. But it’s a fairly busy airport and a pleasant one at that. And over on concourse B you’ll find this little library of sorts.

It’s more of a book swap than a proper library; you’re free to abscond with the title of your choice, or exchange your half-read copy of “Our Country Friends” for something better. Or drop into that funky chair and peruse a few chapters of some shitty crime thriller.

I have to say, the pickings were pretty dismal on the day I dropped by. And it feels a little ad-hoc: we wonder if this isn’t just a place-holder standing in for some unrented retail space, soon to be yet another overlit shop selling magazines and phone chargers. Possibly, but we like the idea, and for the time being it’s a peaceful nook to steal away in.

 

— BAHAMA CHILL

Nassau’s Lynden Pindling International Airport, in the Bahamas, doesn’t give you much to write home about. It’s an unpleasant complex of noisy kids, dirty fast food joints and hour-long security lines. But just outside, in a space between the domestic and international departure halls, you’ll find this sunny oasis of greenery and water.

We had three hours between flights, and this was the perfect spot to wait things out. No children, no crowds, no racket save for the sound of birds (which, I discovered, is piped in through a speaker). There are shady spots with benches, and the free airport wifi signal is strong enough to stream on.

You can sit inside at a greasy table at KFC, or you can sit here.

 

— BLEACHER FEATURE

A vast, overcrowded echo chamber of concrete, Mexico City’s terminal two is one of the least enjoyable airport buildings around. Downstairs in the arrivals lobby, however, set back against the rear wall, is one of the most creative and idiosyncratic features I know of: a set of bleachers, seven benches tall and about fifty feet wide, where family and friends can wait for passengers to emerge from the customs hall.

Arrivals lobbies are often a chaotic scrum of jockeying and shoving, people calling out names and craning their necks. From the bleachers, you have a clear view across the crowd, and can easily pick out your mom, your son, or your mistress without having to wade into the mob.

Here’s a low-tech idea that saves space, is eminently helpful, and costs almost nothing. Why have I not seen this anywhere else in the world?

 

THERE’S NO SUCH THING as a “typical” airline layover. They run the gamut, from eleven tired hours at an airport motel in Pensacola to multiple days in a five-star property in Cairo or Cape Town. The worst of them are depressing; the best are exciting, even a little glamorous, and crewmembers are known to bring along their spouses and kids, turning a work assignment into a mini-vacation.

I’m not as adventurous during my downtime as I used to be, but almost always there’s something to discover. And in keeping with my ends/means philosophy of air travel, I’d be remiss not to share some of these discoveries with my readers. Thus, “Moving in Place” is a new feature, a travelogue of sorts, in which I’ll periodically share unusual highlights from this or that destination.

I might recommend a restaurant or share photos from a tourist attraction, but the subject, most of the time, will be something peculiar or unexpected.

All text and photos by the author.

 

COLONIAL DAKAR

The best way to see Dakar, Senegal, is with someone who speaks French and has spent some time there. That person isn’t me, but I lucked out on my last visit. One of my colleagues, a 767 captain, grew up in French Africa and knows the town’s nooks and crannies. He played tour guide and took us around. I’ve been to Dakar at least three dozen times, but Billy took us places I never knew existed.

My favorite spot, by far, was the little courtyard restaurant at the Hotel Saint-Louis Sun, a brown stucco establishment on Rue Felix Faure, in the city-center neighborhood known as the Plateau, not far from the waterfront. The restaurant is set amidst garden, surrounded by spindled balustrades and open to the sky. There’s Senegalese food on the menu, or just stop in for a drink.

Saint-Luis Sun probably qualifies as what we nowadays call a “boutique hotel,” but there’s nothing pretentious or prissy. It’s charming in an old-school way, authentic and simple. Here you’re transported to another age. Colonial times, for better or worse, yet lovely just the same. An evocative respite from the bustle of the city. Dakar is losing much of its colonial architecture and quickly becoming just another glass and steel capital. Here’s a chance to savor some of what’s left.

The older I get, the less adventurous I am on layovers. These days, a place like the Saint-Louis Sun hits the spot. Quiet and easy to deal with. Once upon a time, though, Senegal was the setting for what was probably the most thrilling on-the-job excursion I’ve ever taken: a two-day trip down to the Sine-Saloum Delta, where we slept in a forest lodge and rode boats through the mangroves. You can watch the highlights of that trip here and here.

 

The Cincinnati Mosaics

The derelict spaces beneath America’s highway overpasses are among the nation’s bleakest and best-avoided locations. What’s found there is typically some combination of neglect, decay, danger or despair. But not always. And for that we travel to Cincinnati, Ohio.

There, in a litter-strewn no-man’s land beneath the rusted superstructure tangle of routes 75 and 71, just north of the Ohio River, one encounters, of all things, an urban sculpture garden — a sprawling, somewhat haphazard collection of statues, murals and mosaics composed of mortar, glass shards, pebbles, shells and tile fragments. The artwork depicts mainly bird and marine life, plus a number of abstract shapes and patterns.

I could find nothing about the project online, but according to a plaque it was the work of a dozen students — city kids, presumably — working under the supervision of a team of professional artists in affiliation with the Cincinnati Arts and Technology Center. Whatever its origins, it’s one of the oddest and most intriguing pieces of public art I’ve ever encountered.

The installation is just a few minutes’ walk from downtown Cincinnati. To find it, go a couple of blocks west of Paul Brown Stadium, where the Bengals play, just off Pete Rose Way, below the scary-looking snarl of highway towers.

 

Paris in Four Bridges.

There are 37 bridges that cross the Seine, but my normal morning walk (about 13,000 steps round trip, according to my Garmin Vivofit) takes me past, or below, four of them. It’s the understructure of these bridges that fascinates me most.

My walk starts on the Île aux Cygnes, a skinny, mid-river island popular with dog-walkers, and it’s the pont de Grenelle that comes first. This is the kind of nondescript span that you’d see in any of a hundred American cities (indeed, a quarter-scale replica of the Statue of Liberty, dating to 1889. abuts the center stanchion), but there’s a sleekness to the metalwork that I like.

Further along the island is the pont de Bir-Hakeim. Formerly the pont de Passy (1905), this is a two-level bridge with a railway crossing above and a roadway, pedestrian and cycle crossing below. Chinese tourists come here by the dozen every morning to have wedding pictures taken — more than a few of whom have been inadvertently photobombed by yours truly.

The Pont Alexandre III, finished in 1900, connects the Invalides and Eiffel Tower on the south side with the Champs-Élysées and Grand Palais (my favorite building in Paris) on the north. The Beaux-Arts style bridge is the fanciest in the city, decorated extravagantly with ornate masonry pedestals, lampposts, cherubs and winged horses. Beautiful for sure, but check out the underside!

Further along, the passerelle Léopold Sédar Senghor links the Musée d’Orsay with the Tuileries gardens on the other side. It’s named after the first president of the former French colony of Senegal, in West Africa.

The old airport in the Senegalese capital, Dakar, is also named after Léopold Sédar Senghor. The footbridge in Paris is considered something of an architectural marvel and is planked with exotic hardwoods. The airport in Dakar… well, I once described it as “the world’s worst.” Which I’m sure it’s not, but it made for a good story.

A new airport serving Dakar, named after Blaise Diagne, the first black African elected to the French parliament, has since opened after a long series of delays. Maybe Diagne will get a bridge across the Seine.