Shimmering lotus-shaped chandeliers overhang the leather upholstered seats. The walls are lined with celebrated artwork and scattered potted plants lend an inside-outside ambience. A mix of aromas from the cluster of cafes tempt the senses, but I stick to my black coffee. A delicious brew that I have selected from the wide range of brands on offer.
In the last decade or so, airports have undergone drastic makeovers, the kind that would give most before and after photos a run for their money. Warm yellow lighting has replaced the tubelight-lit ambience, walls that were bare and morose have been redesigned to impress and stale sandwiches and machine coffee have made way for gourmet meals. Add to that the stretched smiles of the airlines' ground staff, that convince you that they are chuffed to see you (and they probably are, considering the state of the aviation industry). The stage is set to make the airport a friendly place.
Yet, there is something about airports that puts me on my guard. While I could be considered well-travelled, I am not a flyer frequent enough to be nonchalant. Frankly, I am amazed at those who can be, no matter how many miles they are stacking up. No number of warm-hued bulbs can soften the stern faces of the multiple police persons stationed at various spaces. Boards with dos and donts hang on the artistic walls. There are multiple checks of bodies, documents and bags before you reach the oasis that is the food court.
So, when I reach immigration, I can't help but do a mental eye-roll at the big yellow smiley face badge on the officer's lapel. I can just about imagine the brainstorming that would have led to this smiley making its way here.
"Guys, our immigration officers need to appear friendly."
"Maybe they could smile at the travellers?"
"No, no. They must also appear stern and business-like."
"Let's pin smiley faces on themi. That way they can continue to scowl and yet look friendly."
"Brilliant. Let's do it."
The middle-aged officer looks up from my passport.
"Your birthdate is same as mine," he grins at me.
"Oh!" I reply, unable to come up with anything wittier.
But he's up to the task, "Just the date, your year of course, is much later."
I laugh, thank him and walk through to the gate to wait for the boarding call. If there are more cops and boards with rules, I don't notice. I inhale my gourmet coffee, see the lotus chandeliers, warm lights, art on the walls and the yellow smileys.
