In particular, terminal 4. I wrote this rant while enduring the wait, it was funny that just the previous day I’d been discussing the insidious forms of racism I’d encountered in Australia…
—–here it is…Heathrow is horrible –
And that’s not because I’m just ready to come home. On the penultimate leg home, I’m in Heathrow terminal 4, awaiting departure in a couple of hours. Starting with the rude check-in chicks who said “Next” when I was at the top of the queue, and looked through me to the next person behind me, and was upset when I went to the counter. Another instance of rampant racism, they just don’t see a non-white person if there are whites around to be served. I was just telling my aunt about how common this was in Australia, and how I had demonstrated it many times to my aussie friends who could not believe that I, of all people. could be ignored! Oh well, its these half-educated persons, many of whom are coconuts – brown outside, wannabe white inside. More on this later, read on. And who then have shoved me into row 63, despite my arriving early and there being plenty of better seats – I know that this is right at the back, probably with the wall behind me so that the seats don’t recline, to misreading weight of suitcases and bags. My baggage has increased by 7 kilos between Tel Aviv and Heathrow! And my laptop bag was weighed as well, and the silly cows insisted that you can carry 2 laptops – I can’t see any rule about that. these laptops are way lighter than a single laptop from even a year ago.Talk about airheads.
“You can try but you wont get it past security”
Security didnt even look at it – this is the same bag that has been through security at Terminal 5, Ben Gurion airport in and out. Maybe airline staff at the counters need some education and lessons in politeness. Unfortunately in this day and age one can’t get stroppy with security guards. So I just look them straight in the eye and get them to repeat stuff – seems like no one looks them in the eye.

Security wasnt too bad, except for the dumb security boffin who get jerking his head at me and pinching his pocket. A new bhangra move? At least if he’d looked like Akshay Kumar or even Brad Pitt-but a deaf mute? I had no idea what he was saying – “remove your jacket” he said finally. As if it would have killed him to just ask in a normal tone of voice.

And then, I come in for a coffee, at a place that is a wireless hotspot. I ask for something savoury, and get a shrug -( I dont want to eat you, you ugly idiot.) Then, I ask for a tea, and see a tea tray being carried over to a slim blonde seated at a table. Oh, will you bring it over then, I ask, to be told no, here it is. I’m expected to carry it while dragging my laptop case behind me, and a hollow ghostly voice warns us that if we leave luggage unattended it will be destroyed, alongwith the children who are playing on the luggage trolleys and escalators no doubt.
So its table service for some then..
Anyway, Im having my revenge by sitting here, and occupying space and sipping tea very very slowly. Around me I can see people eating chips, cheese sandwiches, that are being carried to the tables to them. What is going on here? Anyway, its Costas in Heathrow terminal 4. Don’t come here unless you are one the following: slim in very tight jeans, blonde, under 25, or obviously white.
Oh, and most of the staff are Indian or maybe they are Pakistani or Bangladeshi – that may make me feel a bit better!!!
Finally, Heathrow sucks because it has no free wireless internet access. They say wireless hotspot, and then you have to create an account and sign up – paying the equivalent of AUD$10 an hour. Are they daft? I’ll just wait for Singapore’s Changi terminal where I will get better food, better service and free internet.

And just try getting to Heathrow terminals – the signage on the freeway is dreadful, and even if you follow it and get into the correct lanes with difficulty – because its dusk and they havent lit up the signboards yet, you come to further confusion at roundabouts – from where you can get to any terminal. So why bother tormenting us with all the lane signage from 10 miles back? It just makes me feel even guiltier about the hapless rellies who have driven me across half of England to get here well in time. Unlike Australia, where Arrivals and Departures are signed well in advance, there was just one sign at the last minute, that said Set Down, so I insisted on being set down there. My poor aunt was really astonished and worried, but I wasn’t going to have them trying to park and then find their way out of this dreadful airport and terminal.