Modern Manners: Stuck in airport security? Pretend you're pregnant
It was in the security queue at Gatwick that I realised our airport behaviour needs to sharpen up. We had been queuing for 20 minutes, inching towards the X-ray machine like a colony of arthritic penguins. I was tired and, to be quite honest, had overdone it on the Montepulciano at Pizza Express the night before. I had a long flight to Thailand ahead of me and I needed a coffee in the departure lounge.
But fellow travellers were delaying this, because they kept arriving at the front of the queue and deciding that was the moment to start hunting slowly for their laptops in their bags, instead of doing it beforehand. One man at the X-ray machine stood for several minutes while he patted down every single one of his pockets, removing fistfuls of coins and other detritus before dropping it all in his tray. Why do you need so many things in your pockets, I wanted to ask him. You’re off to Palma, not war. There were about 500 signs before this point warning that he would have to take out his laptop, empty his pockets and put his coat through the machine separately, yet our modern-day Captain Cook looked genuinely surprised when he was asked to do so by a security guard.
Separating liquids also remains a stumbling block. At Luton airport a couple of months ago, I watched a blonde woman arrive at the X-ray machine, realise she hadn’t put her liquids into a plastic bag, then find herself astonished that she didn’t even have a plastic bag on her in the first place. “Anyone got a spare plastic bag? I’ll give you a fiver,” asked her boyfriend, wandering down the queue with the resigned air of a man who had to spend a week on holiday with this woman.
Other people delay proceedings by being confused about what a liquid actually is, so here are a few clues. Water is a liquid. Mouthwash is a liquid. Cans of deodorant may be confusing, I grant you, because the deodorant comes out as a spray. But they, too, are classed as liquids. Shoes are not a liquid, but you may also be asked to remove those and put them in a tray. You don’t have to put your shoes in a plastic bag, though because, just to reiterate, shoes are solids.
My proposal is that we prepare ourselves more sensibly before arriving at airport security queues. Don’t bury your laptop underneath all your clothes so you have to unzip your wheely bag and sift through several pairs of knickers until you find it. Wear items of clothing with fewer pockets.
Alternatively, you can do as I did on the way back from Thailand last week. It was after a long lunch at a beach club where we had tucked into bottles of rosé with the sort of enthusiasm that distinguishes the holidaying Brit.
We were subsequently very late to Phuket airport and in danger of missing our flight, so my friend Holly and I decided we had no option but to take the “priority queue” through security. According to a large sign, this was reserved for the disabled, pregnant women or Buddhist monks. Currently, I am none of those. “Hols, I’m quite clearly not a Buddhist monk,” I hissed. “Shut up. Pretend you’re pregnant,” she replied.
So I am sorry to say that I staggered slowly through Phuket security, cradling my stomach and beaming at the guards in what I hope was a suitably beatific and pregnant manner. They smiled genuinely back, lifted my bag on to the conveyor belt for me and quickly waved us through. I didn’t have to remove my shoes or separate my laptop. I might give it a go the next time I’m at Gatwick.
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