Let me count the ways…one, your secret alternate security line when flying out of Terminal A, two, your centralized terminal layout (no buses involved, ever), three, your short routes to the West Coast, four, your lack of more-or-less permanent construction projects (now if I could just say the same for I-70), but more than any of those, I love the way you handle weather.
Just before hopping on my return flight out of LAX, I was talking to a friend who warned me that it was snowing pretty hard. Of course the first snowfall in Denver happens just when I’m about to fly home. When else would it occur?
Given that we’d already been delayed slightly in LAX due to a late arriving plane (thank you Chicago), I resigned myself to missing both dinner with a friend of mine and the Heartless Bastards who were playing the Oriental. Coming from the East Coast, after all, I’m used to airports shutting down if someone even breathes wrong near the Doppler (hello, Logan).
Shows what I know. Not only were we not delayed any further, they never even shut down a runway. According to the pilot, all three remained active up until the time we landed. Granted, there wasn’t much in terms of accumulation – couple of inches in spots – but it was coming down hard and thick. Doesn’t faze Denver, however. The airport just keeps trucking along.
I know there are reasons not to like DIA; but the problems it has are solvable. Too rough climbing in or out? Just remember that they may kill you, but they’re not likely to hurt you. Plus, it could be much, much worse.[1] Lost luggage? Don’t check any. Simple.
Anyway, thanks DIA. I didn’t get to see the Bastards because dinner ran a bit long, but it was nice to get home on time.
Oh, and just as a public service message for my fellow travelers: check and see what the weather will be like on your return. As it turns out, making your way all the way out to Economy Lot S in 28 degree weather with blowing snow, clad only in flip-flops, jeans, a short sleeve shirt and fleece vest is suboptimal. Emphasis on the sub.
[1] Nothing can top the time I was flying out of Columbia, SC and we dropped so fast that the cupcake sitting on the tray of a lady sitting next to me actually got stuck to the ceiling.
