Love to hate

My love/hate relationship with the local airport dates back over a decade to when I was 11 years old and mother took us over the water to the far away magical place of England.

Which is the point at which the plot fell apart. Summoned by phone, the Rose Taxi transportation failed to arrive. So, mom, sis and I lugged heavy suitcases, crammed with all we could fit into them, to the car, said goodbye to the dog and set off to the airport.

Being a time when there was no such thing as GPS for mere mortals, and not knowing the way to the airport, we got lost. Badly lost. I forget which interchange it was, but we went around it about five times before spotting a sign with an airplane painted on it, a dead giveaway.

Needless to say, we missed the SAA flight, but got seats on a BA flight, and just made it onto the plane. This may go some way towards my dislike of the place.

I ended up reversing down the inbound extension to the freeway to park elsewhere.

Nicola Mawson, senior journalist, ITWeb

I spend countless hours at the airport, now OR Tambo, waiting for planes to leave or arrive. International departures, incidentally, has the best CNA if you're into local authors.

Sadly, few of these flights are ever ones onto which I am booked. Since that bizarre first trip out of the country, I've been to Cape Town four times, Malawi once and London once on a plane.

Having hours with nothing to do means that one can peer around and check out stuff. Last week, for example, I had a good look at the new DIY check-in system.

In fact, I was at the airport not only to wave goodbye again, but to speak to a chap about the technology behind the system.

Technology at the airport has grown in leaps and bounds since it was Jan Smuts. Now, for example, you can check yourself in, pay for your parking via credit card and soon, you may be able to 'board yourself'.

Which is why last week's trip was rather ironic. Arriving at the airport, I chose to park in the first carport you get to, the one on the right-hand-side. Leaning out the car window, I pushed the ticket button, only to have nothing happen.

I pushed the help button after a few more fruitless attempts at garnering a ticket. A mechanical voice said: "Please wait, your call will be answered by the next available operator." Anyway, I ended up reversing down the inbound extension to the freeway to park elsewhere.

Several hours later, it was time to leave. Following the instructions on the machine, I stuck my credit card into the parking payment box. And then into the next box, and the next.

Finally, I stomped off to find an ATM.