 | Laguardia’s Terminal B has been redone! The old terminal resembled a third-world airport, with a dropped ceiling and cramped, stinky bathrooms. Your only dining option was an exorbitantly priced Dunkin Donuts. The fluorescent lighting made everyone headachy. Only the most aggressive flyers got seats in the skimpy waiting area. It made you second-guess all your life choices. The new Laguardia looks like a real airport. The ceilings are high, there are bars and cafes and bookstores, shops, even a spa. |
Early on New Years Day, I went to Laguardia to catch a flight to Texas. Going through security, my dignity was ruffled by an aggressive pat-down. A TSA lady channeling Nurse Ratchet pulled me aside when the metal detector beeped, and I stood there in my sock feet, pants insecure with no belt, arms up, mumbling repeatedly It’s my underwire bra, I’m sure it’s the wire. She didn’t care and went over each limb and more meticulously, front and back, all around, finally shrugging and jerking her head toward the exit. I collected my possessions, replaced my belt, shoes, jewelry, and coat, re-packed my liquids and computer, and went through a shabby hallway plastered with posters promising me The New Laguardia. I was sniffling just a little. It was pre-coffee.
But guess what? It is a new Laguardia. I came out of the dim hallway into a sunshine-filled, shiny, new transportation hub. It looks like the future we were promised in Logan’s Run.
There are cafes, bars, bookstores (one big chain, one local), and even a spa. I walked past the spa, then walked back. They had chair massage. I thought about Nurse Ratchet and my upcoming four-hour flight, and I decided to get a chair massage. A masseur named Alan with the grating voice of a New York cab driver put me in the chair, then straightened my spine with the hands of an absolute angel. Alan was a successful juxtaposition of opposing elements.
Restored, I bought a book, a really fat one. Ducks, Newburyport, by Lucy Ellmann. It’s a thousand pages. I was hoping to read a book a week this year, so I’ll have to give up something to get through this baby in seven days.
But guess what? It is a new Laguardia. I came out of the dim hallway into a sunshine-filled, shiny, new transportation hub. It looks like the future we were promised in Logan’s Run.
There are cafes, bars, bookstores (one big chain, one local), and even a spa. I walked past the spa, then walked back. They had chair massage. I thought about Nurse Ratchet and my upcoming four-hour flight, and I decided to get a chair massage. A masseur named Alan with the grating voice of a New York cab driver put me in the chair, then straightened my spine with the hands of an absolute angel. Alan was a successful juxtaposition of opposing elements.
Restored, I bought a book, a really fat one. Ducks, Newburyport, by Lucy Ellmann. It’s a thousand pages. I was hoping to read a book a week this year, so I’ll have to give up something to get through this baby in seven days.
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I got myself some breakfast.
The bathrooms are lovely, sparkling clean and roomy, with New York scenes on the stall doors. There were even poinsettias.
The bathrooms are lovely, sparkling clean and roomy, with New York scenes on the stall doors. There were even poinsettias.
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I installed myself in the adequate, well-lighted seating area, plugged in my devices, and typed away until time to board.
So, next time you need to fly through Laguardia, don’t be scared. It’s a whole new terminal.
Subscribe here. I’ll keep you up to date on new travel phenomena and you won’t be scared anymore.
So, next time you need to fly through Laguardia, don’t be scared. It’s a whole new terminal.
Subscribe here. I’ll keep you up to date on new travel phenomena and you won’t be scared anymore.