These Are the Airport Features the Jalopnik Staff Can't Live Without

I’m one of those strange souls who loves showing up to the airport way too early for my flight in order to bask in the gorgeous liminal space that is air travel — but I simply cannot handle doing this without one key terminal feature: a wine bar.

My home airport is San Antonio International. This airport has two terminals. One terminal rocks (it has a wine bar). The other one sucks (it has literally nothing, not even a full-fledged Starbucks, unless you count one Costa coffee machine as being the epitome of class and enjoyment). I am regularly flying out of The Shit Terminal, where I am forced to twiddle my thumbs and perhaps consider, at best, sitting down for a breakfast taco.

In my ideal airport, every terminal will have a wine bar. Whether it’s a Vino Volo or a standard bar that happens to serve more than three kinds of wine that are not “house blends” matters not to me. Just let me show up for my domestic flight three hours early so I can sip wine and work from a novelty locale.

My home airport is Hartsfield-Jackson in Atlanta, one of the most hated airports in the country. And to some degree, I understand. If you travel a lot and constantly have to connect through the same airport, it’s inevitable that you’re going to start to dislike it. All you want to do is get to your destination, and you’re stuck at yet another airport waiting to get there? That sucks.

But as far as airports go, Atlanta is pretty awesome, specifically because of the plane train. Need to get from security to Concourse D to catch your flight? That would take a while if you chose to walk, but you don’t have to walk. You just have to get on the plane train, and you’ll be at your gate in no time.

The plane train isn’t just convenient for making sure you make your flight on time, either. It allows you to freely travel between terminals, which means if you don’t like the food or drink options near your gate, better choices are only a few minutes away. Far too many airports don’t let you do that without going back through security, and it sucks. Every airport should with more than one terminal should have a plane train.

I was recently certified by a medical doctor as being a Very Sleepy Girl in need of many naps, especially after mental and physical exertion. Nothing drains the life out of you like suffering the indignities of air travel. Who wouldn’t like to be able to catch a few Zs during layovers and delays? I sure would.

I know there is something similar to this concept in far too few airports around the United States. They tend to offer a few rentable-by-the-hour sleep pods to passengers, but these are far from ubiquitous and don’t have the ease of use or small foot print of the Japanese-style capsule hotel. These are brilliant and I’ve often fantasized about climbing into one while flying. Even scoring a 20 minute snooze in a safe and quiet space between layovers would make the entire process so much more tolerable.

With wide, long passenger thoroughfares and spacious terminals, there are usually at least a few spots in an airport where a bank of sleeping capsules would be workable. With so many cancellations and delays hitting airports these days, a simple place to get some shut-eye for your unexpected multi-hour stranding would be wonderful, especially if you hit up Elizabeth Blackstock’s wine bar before hand.

As someone with terrible horrible no-good very bad travel luck, I spend a lot of time in airports. Some of that time, I end up having to spend asleep. But I’m not gonna be so bold as to ask for dedicated sleeping accommodations, the way Erin did — I’m simple folk. I’ll take a comfy enough chair and some dimmed lights.

Give me a loveseat, a lounge chair, anything of the sort. Make it so that there’s a spot for my head, even if it’s not particularly padded — just something that isn’t hard wood. Then, if we’re being really generous, a nearby outlet to charge my phone. That’s all I ask. That, and maybe some nicer disposable razors at the little stores in the terminal.

Broadly speaking, there are two schools of thought when it comes to airport architecture: either your terminal is bathed in natural light thanks to vaulting, 30-foot-high floor-to-ceiling windows, or it’s a sheetrock cave. One of those options sucks major ass. What’s the point of human flight if you can’t watch planes take off and land?

The ultimate plane-watching experience, of course, is being outdoors, perhaps with a cocktail in hand, ideally beside a heated pool. That’s what you can get at the TWA Hotel, an almost cloyingly 1960s-themed luxury hotel at JFK International Airport in New York City. It’s built inside the long-abandoned and lovingly restored former TWA terminal, designed by neo-futurist architect and legend Eero Saarinen. But not every airport has an entire Saarinen building sitting around waiting to be restored, and also, pool passes at TWA Hotel are $50 a pop.

So just give me a nice bank of windows with a view of a runway. Let me bask in the novelty of humans conquering the skies. Airports are the one place where I refuse to connect to WiFi and practically abandon my phone. Gimme something to look at, dammit.

Also, the rooftop pool at the TWA Hotel constantly smells like jet fuel, so maybe indoors is best.

My regional airport is on the border, in a small city that fancies itself a big one due to its popularity among travelers from Mexico. The Rio Grande Valley is basically a collection of little towns strung along a highway, but McAllen sees itself as the city that draws a crowd or as the RGV hub. That’s not really true, and the McAllen International Airport proves as much.

Not only because the first thing you see when you touch down at MFE is a cemetery, as a friend of mine once observed. Truly. What gives, city planners? Was the goal to say “Welcome to our city, please pay your condolences”? — but also, or mainly, because the airport lacks a Shake Shack.

I mention the McAllen airport because any time I fly out for a press drive, I must connect through a proper hub like Houston or Dallas. And Dallas is my favorite because there’s a Shake Shack, which makes the best burgers in America bar none. Sorry, Five Guys. Sorry, In-N-Out. As far as Whataburger goes? Sorry, not sorry. That’s coming from a Texan, who ought to revere the orange and white pyramids of the most popular burger chain in the Lone Star State.

A Number 1 combo from Whataburger is good, I admit. But it can’t touch a ShackBurger or SmokeShack. Oh god, the SmokeShack. I love press drives for two reasons: I get to drive what’ll hopefully be a cool car, and I get to eat what I know will be a damn good burger. I just wish every airport had a Shake Shack.

It’s difficult to argue that the most frustrating part of the American airport experience is getting through security. For most passengers, planning around the wait to get through security is the only concern for making a flight on time. Any tool or method that eliminates additional waiting is usually universally adopted.

Physically checking in for a flight has been almost completely eliminated as a result. Customers can check in online or through a smartphone app with every major carrier and immediately have access to a digital boarding pass. If a passenger doesn’t have a bag to check in, they can step into the terminal and head straight to security.

Having a checked bag means printing out a baggage tag at a self-service kiosk at the airport. Most airlines have an abundance of kiosks, so the wait isn’t nearly as long as the wait for an actual airline employee But predicting the wait time for bag drop-off can be a gamble. If it weren’t for the unbelievable number of people caught accidentally carrying loaded guns through security, I’d argue for removing checkpoints.

My close friends, family and Jalop coworkers are very familiar with my very long list of food allergies. You might be too, if you’ve ever sat on a flight where the attendants make an announcement not to eat any products containing peanuts because someone on board is allergic. Yes, I am that very person.

I love food, and I love to travel, but since I was diagnosed with severe allergies nearly 15 years ago, both can lead to nightmares. Now, one thing that has improved is finding restaurants in and around my destinations that can cater to my allergies (with the help of many an app), but it’s the airports that prove most problematic.

Most airports, the larger ones at least, have a plethora of chain restaurants to choose from, but most all of them are off-limits because of my specific food allergies. The food marts, usually sponsored by some media conglomerate, will sometimes have basics I can pay three-times more than anywhere else to get, but they are more on the snack side and fall short of a real meal. That is, if they have those kind of snacks at all.

For example, one fateful morning, I arrived at Newark after a crazy weekend in New York City (it involved watching what appeared to be a hit-and-run with a stolen car, followed by an arrest of said driver... all while I was driving a press car). I also arrived snackless. I took a chance on the fact that my flight home would only be a couple of hours, so I figured I could manage. My flight ended up delayed for nearly three hours, and I wandered the entire airport to find something I could eat. My options were water and a Naked fruit smoothie. I could not find a single thing safe to eat outside of that.

You know what I’d love to be able to find? Options. A hot meal. Do you know how wonderful a hot meal is after you’ve done three connecting flights and have been in airports for 10 to 12 hours straight? Especially when it’s a hot meal that won’t land you on a steady stream of Benadryl, H2-blockers and potentially a week or two of steroids? I dream about this.

Also, can we just stop selling peanuts?

I am pretty sure nobody on the Jalopnik staff despises air travel more than I do. In fact, off the top of my head I cannot imagine a single place in the world, nor things to do once I got there, that would entirely offset the pain I experience spending eight hours trapped in a hurling metal spear. Any car could be waiting for me on the other end of that journey — say a Lancia Delta Integrale. I love the Delta! But I don’t know if I love it that much. Certain people aside, I don’t think I love anything that much.

I have my reasons. So many reasons. But the big ones are that I can’t sleep on planes, and I get migraines. It really doesn’t matter how long the flight is; could be two hours, could be 10. For me, flying is a one-way ticket to everything that comes with a hangover, only without the fun that immediately precedes it. The effects last just as long too — I need about as much time off the plane to completely recover.

It’s for this reason I have to ensure I’m properly fed, hydrated and caffeinated before I board. (I know what you’re thinking, and it’s cute that you think coffee keeps me up anymore.) Cafes and restaurants, therefore, are critical. A decent meal and a cup of fresh bean gives me the best chance to fly without feeling like I’m going to need a stretcher to deplane.

Two things stand in my way: a startling lack of places that serve coffee, and other people. Look, I don’t always have 40 minutes to stand in line at the one Starbucks in this terminal. I have to be at my gate 73 minutes before American delays takeoff three times or else they won’t let me leave this purgatory until tomorrow.

I’m not picky, either. I’ll take Dunkin, Au Bon Pain, whatever. I just need coffee! We need like, triple the amount of cafes in every airport. And hey, I’m self-aware enough to know that I sound like the last person you’d ever want to meet right now. I promise, I’m not normally like this — unless you run into me at an airport.

At heart, I’m just a child that wants to feel the wind in my hair as I go as fast as I can. I like road bikes because you can speed yourself from A to B quicker than on a standard bike, and I like convertible sports cars because they get you close to the elements while doing highway speeds – it’s lovely.

But, when you’re walking, it’s tricky to get the same sensation of speed. Even my pretty lanky legs struggle to carry me at anything above a speed that can only be described as “brisk.” But that pace picks up as soon as you reach a travelator.

For some reason, these mystical creations haven’t really spread outside the airport terminal, and that’s a real shame. But that just means it’s all the more exciting when you hop on one at an airport. They’re great, though, and let you careen across a terminal at double speed while you’re walking along. Every person you pass looks on with envy as they regret their decision not to board the travelator. Truly, if I could get everywhere by travelator, I would.

And no, escalators are no where near as good. Travelator or nothing.

I have to admit, I’m not a good flyer. I think many people can agree with me. The nervousness and anxiety I experience before I board is distracting and bothersome. One of the main ways I calm down is by sitting somewhere, eating or drinking something and listening to music.

I’m not talking about a huge meal. I don’t need a Cheesecake Factory or anything in an airport. I just need some place that sells stuff thats quick and small that I can grab. Most importantly the place needs to be easily accessible so I can reach it in enough time before my flight. Rushing to eat or something before a flight sucks.

Unfortunately in some airports places like these are hard to find with more bars and shops than anything. The price premium you pay for the convenience of having accesses to these places in the airport is terrible as well. While I’ll look for something to grab before a flight, I refuse to pay $16 bucks for a chicken club sandwich.

I really love an airport. I know a lot of people don’t, but whenever I’m in one I feel very serene. I couldn’t tell you exactly why. I just get a kick out of all of these peoples’ lives intersecting for a couple of hours before they go off somewhere else far away.

There is just one thing I do not like about the airport: its location. I understand it may sound like a niche issue, but it really isn’t. Airports are never really as close as you’d like them! From where I live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, it’s about an hour in the back of an Uber no matter what airport I’m going to, and I’ve got three to choose from!

Want to know how much an hour long Uber costs you in New York? About $100. That’s a lot of cash, and I haven’t even gotten on the plane or shoplifted bought a bottle of $9 Smart Water yet.

So, my proposal for a better airport is simply a closer one. Sure, this is more of a concept than an actual thing, but this is my slide and dammit, I’ve got something to say!