Some of he things that needs to be improved in France is one of our international airports. Charles De Gaulle ( CDG ) airport is one of the most awful airports I have never seen, and I saw hundreds of them worldwide.
For tourists coming to Paris, it is a shame to have such an unuseful airport, ugly and old. Sometimes my minivan cannot even getting out of the parking. Often it happens that credit card terminal does not work, so I have to get out of the car and pay by cash to the employee, letting my guests waiting in the car.
Tourists and professionals are the first victims of the airport. I had many many guests that complained about CDG. I found this story on Internet and was pretty agree with him, let me paste it here
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We left Brazaville at 10:20 pm local time on a full flight. I had
forgotten about the insecticide last year. After they close the doors,
flight attendants briskly walk down each aisle of the plane holding bug
bombs over their heads, spraying the plane. All this while announcing
that the bug spray is safe and harmless. Uh, ok. Smells great, too.
Although, given a choice between smelling that and smelling some guy's
impressibly bad B.O. for seven hours, I think I may have chosen the
insecticide.
Apologies in advance to the Francophiles out there. My experience in
Paris was less than impressive and certainly did not encourage me to
ever return. Perhaps other French airports are more usable, I don't
really know.
We landed at 5:30am, after sitting on an incredibly stinky flight
for over 7 hours. Have I mentioned how awful Charles de Gaulle is? Once
again, we pull up to the terminal/construction project featured on
"Engineering Disasters." It's not terribly comforting to see that they
are rebuilding it in what appears to be exactly the same way. Perhaps
they got some advice on mechanics of materials this time.
Apparently the French aren't too keen on designing a building to
actually be used. We exit through a jetway, and encounter the first
intentional bottleneck of the place, check #1 (of 8) of our passports.
While standing in the next herd of people, we admire the lovely poured
concrete and wires hanging out of the ceiling. Oh so attractive and
welcoming. After shuffling through yet another couple of intentional
bottlenecks, we herd onto a shuttle bus for ride #1. The shuttle bus
experience at CDG is somewhat akin to riding a Boston subway at rush
hour. Our stop is third, and we are thrilled to discover that people
have to climb over each other to get on and off. This is especially
delightful at 6:00 am in the morning when one has been flying all night
(true for the vast majority of people using the shuttle at this time of
day).
We finally reach our terminal, where we shuffle into yet another
bottleneck, and I think they checked our passports yet again. I don't
even remember all of the passport checks; Todd counted eight.
At the Air France security checkpoint, they demand our boarding
passes. We don't have them yet, as our flight home is Delta, and
despite the propaganda, Delta and Air France systems don't play
together very well.
OK, now to find the Delta desk. Have I mentioned that CDG is
offensively ugly and has a complete lack of signage? In addition to the
planned bottlenecks, the entire airport is under construction, and
there is an affinity for poured concrete. The entire place has the
ambience of a county lockup. Most of the place is a rat maze, where you
are confronted with blank walls with perhaps one very vague sign on it.
You wander through hallway after hallway, wondering where you'll
finally come out of the maze. If you're lucky, you don't have to try to
retrace your steps. Come to think of it, I never saw anything with
color or resembling an attempt at art.
We are looking for the way out (ya think a sign saying "customs" or
"sortie" might be helpful?) and finally find some Police just standing
around. After asking how to get out of the place so we can access the
Delta desk, the snotty agent answers then says, "You need to say
bonjour first." Asshole. We just left a shithole that the French
colonized, and have seen how effective their leadership was, and how
all the protocol has immensely improved the quality of life there. And
this jerk is in a snit because we didn't say "bonjour" first? I can
think of plenty else to say besides "bonjour."
After we exit customs, there is still no indication of where we
might exit into the main terminal. After asking yet another employee
where the Delta desk is, we get a cursory "upstairs." I guess it was
too much effort to say, "Upstairs at the far end." Whatever. By this
point we are annoyed and just want to get the hell out of there.
We finally find the Delta desk and show our passports yet again,
this time answering the silly questions about packing our own luggage
and whatnot. Despite explaining that we already tried to get boarding
passes downstairs and our reservations are not showing up in the
system, the employee there insists we use the kiosks. As predicted,
that doesn't work and we approach the desk. I start getting concerned
when the ticket agent picks up the phone, never a good sign. I am
directed to yet another counter, whereupon I'm told that I have a
ticket for the originally scheduled date of Monday, and merely a
confirmation for yesterday. AAAAARGH. After about 15 minutes, she gets
me straightened out and takes me back to the original desk, where I get
my boarding pass. Finally. Oh, and I showed my passport again.
I re-enter the rat maze: customs again, security again, flash the
passport a few times again. I manage to find my terminal, and groan
when I see it's simply another holding cell for yet another shuttle bus
ride. There's duty free shops and a café, but no payphones. Oh, that's
brilliant, for a terminal serving international flights. Hello, France,
not everyone has an international cell phone.
Approximately 2.5 hours after escaping the stench of the previous
flight, I rejoin my colleagues. They had an easier time getting their
boarding passes and beat me there.
At this point, I've concluded that it is easier to transit Africa.
You KNOW you're gonna be jacked, you plan for it, and either pay
someone to do it for you (the expeditor) or stick a small bill in your
passport once or twice, and you're done. At CDG, I feel I'm getting
jacked over and over. There is a distinct attitude there of not caring
if you're being helped or not, and a ridiculous number of hoops to jump
through. I see that socialism is working really well for the French.
And our little Congo-jacking-in-Paris isn't over.
We get into yet another line to get on the subway-cum-shuttle bus.
Todd goes first, presents his boarding pass, and the gate agent asks
him for his flight coupon. WTF? He explains that we have electronic
tickets, and we had to check in at the Delta counter, this is what we
have, and isn't a boarding pass permission to board the plane? By the
way, when I was pulled to the other Delta counter, the agent there
printed out flight coupons for me, so I'm all set. Todd and Steve only
have boarding passes. At this point, Todd is starting to seriously lose
it. I've been bitching already (I know everyone is surprised), and that
this point we are all three ready for a melt-down.
An uncharacteristically helpful airline employee pulls us over to
another desk, looks up Todd and Steve, says he doesn't know what the
problem is, and tells the other agent to let us board the bus. Good
gawd. We thank him profusely.
Meanwhile, during all of this, it has become clear that handicapped
or elderly people are not welcome here. There is absolutely no way
either could navigate this place. There are stairs everywhere,
literally miles of walking, and unhelpful employees.
By the time we got hassled for flight coupons, three hours had gone by.
At least this airplane didn't stink.
Ten hours later, we arrive in Atlanta. I make a quick call to Paula
from the plane, tell her I'll call her back after getting off the
plane, going through customs, retrieving my luggage, sending it through
customs, and re-checking my bags. Ten minutes later I call her back,
laughing. WOW what a difference a continent makes! It was easy, quick,
clear, and everyone we encountered was friendly and helpful. NO MORE
Congo-jacking. I can't express how good it felt to be back in
civilization (NOT at CDG) in a country that understands how to get
things done. Wide corridors, no bottlenecks, no multiple layers of
crap. Just bang, bang, boom, you're done.
Didn't even mind the hour delay getting back to Indy. Just meant
there was time to relax and go get a beer, and continue forcing my body
clock back to EST."
Thanks to
Pairofgeeks website for this very very trustful story
