I like small airports, the sort that are all on one floor,
with a minimum of doors, desks and shops. I'm in one now: Inverness. It’s tiny and I’ve just been informed, maybe unreliably, that it won an award for
being one of the best small airports (In the world or in Scotland?) I always find staff much more helpful and friendly in small airports. When it opened, Dalaman’s first airport used to be like Inverness; the staff were very amiable and, as a travel rep, I knew all the check-in staff, passport and
customs police. Foreign Tourism was in
its infancy and we were all making up the rules as we went along. There were no prohibited areas and reps were welcome on both sides of passport control. In those days, not many of the staff in Dalaman
airport spoke English and as I had a rough grasp of Turkish, I
was often called in to help out . One day, I was invited to the Airport Manager’s
office, where I was greeted by two policemen. While I agonised about what felony I’d committed, the airport manager asked
if I would be willing to greet a VIP visitor. The head of Interpol was
arriving. I was happy to help, but as I
had 40 guests of my own to meet, I couldn't see how I could be in two places at
once. "No problem", they said, "he’s arriving on the same flight". I was
handed a page board and as I waited at the bottom of
the steps for the plane doors to open, I
noticed on my arrivals list that this
important policeman was in fact one of my own clients. The gentleman and his
wife were allowed off the plane first and, not being accustomed to high fliers,
I couldn't help being a bit disappointed. The portly, crimplene trousered gentleman wasn't my idea of a mega crime buster and he seemed surprised by his celebrity status. As I presented his
wife with a large bunch of flowers, I explained that the Mugla
police chief was providing a police driver to take him to his villa and
hoped to visit later in the week to take him out to lunch. My VIP was overjoyed. “Well, I never expected this“ he said."I always
write and say I’m coming but I usually just get to visit a local police
station”. As we walked to passport control, I probed a bit further and the
genial bobby produced a copy of the
letter he’d sent to the Mugla Constabulary.
My new friend was the chairman of the West Country Police society, not
quite police chief of the Western World but he got trip in a Turkish police car.
Didn't happen to me when I landed at Stansted though armed police were waiting for someone on the plane!
ReplyDeleteLOL, BtoB. Lovely story - wish it would happen to me one day. :-)
ReplyDeleteDear Bodrum, this story delighted me. I'm still smiling. I've read many mysteries that involve English and Scottish policemen and women--bobbies and detectives--and I'd so like to meet one as you did. He sounds like Hamish, who is the main character in a series of books by M. C. Beaton. Hamish lives in a small Scottish village and his heart is as wide as a loch. Peace.
ReplyDeleteAww, what a lovely story - and what a shame Dalaman isn't so amiable anymore. That's what happens with growth I guess.
ReplyDelete