Coursework 2: Descriptive writingMatthew Gallagher The blinding sun glares overthe top of the airport, as it floods with travellers.
An ocean of bodies flowsalong a two-way current at the entrance, like water quickly running to itsdestination. Occasionally, the odd group of tourists stops abruptly and causesa small swell of people; travellers are forced to weave in and out of theirobstacles, like ants in tall grass. The conflicting aromas of fried, greasyfast-food and the nutty smell of coffee diffuse out of the busy restaurants,where travellers are patiently awaiting their holiday. I watch the lines ofindented metal steps of the escalator, I am descending on, disappear at thebottom, as the gleaming glass paned walls filter in the blinding sunlight andglistening on the polished, ochre brown marble.
There is a rush of cool air,filling the building with a sense of excitement, like opening a freezer on asummer’s day, complementing the faint murmurs and buzzing of phones andelectronics. A smooth, calming but authoritative voice announces the arrival ofthe main flight, symbolising the daily rush hour. Finally, I have reached thebottom. The crowded floor comes into full view as I briskly walk towards thecheck-in counter, effortlessly pushing my jet-black, four-wheeled suitcase infront of me. I advance swiftly, trying to avoid a flailing, wailing child overa mother’s shoulder, a ragdoll like girl sprawled onto the floor and the groupsof rowdy teenagers, oblivious to their surroundings because of the devicesglued their faces. Conveniently, the queue is non-existent but as I reach thetall, marble counter I see a sign reading, ‘Sorry for the inconvenience, we areon a 15-minute break’. So, I sit down on the closest available seating next tome.
Looking around, the airport is like a large snow globe, minus the snow,with shiny glass panes arching over the ceiling and white metal poles formingtriangles at the centre, like a crosshatched quilt. I admire the marblefountain in the centre of the waiting lounge, where I can hear the gentletrickling of the water, cascading gradually over the sides. I notice the smallpotted plants placed neatly and lined at the front of the desk, whilst I listento the soft ambient songs playing from the nearby ceiling speaker. To mysatisfaction, I hear the pleasing sound of the chime of the desk bell; I amcalled to check-in.Heading towards the desk, myserenity breaks by the irritating and impatient tapping of the check-in agenton the counter, it is as if a woodpecker is behind the tall marble desk.
Fumbling for my passport, I get a glance at her red slick-back hair, tied uptightly at the top of her head, where her gnawed pencil was convenientlyplaced. Her skeletal fingers clamp over my passport, revealing her long, glazednails as she wrinkles up her cadaverous face, like old paper, frowning andtelling me that she also needs my plane ticket. Annoyed, I unzip my bag,pulling out my ticket, she continues her tapping on the desk.
She thanks mewith her yellow teethed grin as I award her my ticket and the stench of herperfume invades my nostrils. Finally, I place my suitcase on the matte-blackbelt as she begins her aggressive typing, not realising that the queue hasbegun rapidly slithering up behind me. To my relief, she wraps my suitcase withgreen tape and sends me on my way.
With just my bag on myshoulders, I reach the immigration and customs. The black rope snakes aroundlike a curved labyrinth. Luckily, the line moves quickly, flowing like a river,with multiple x-ray conveyor belts moving luggage and electronics forward.Shortly, I am called for inspection.
I remove my leather brown belt, largeblack rucksack and chalky worn-out trainers and gently lay them on the greyplastic trays, then proceed to the metal detectors, where people on either sideare reprimanded for forgetting the odd penny or paper clip in their pocket. Theshredded bits of plastic on the machine flap lightly as my items followthrough. From the other side, I observe the x-ray’s orange image, anxiouslyoutlining my belongings as the customs officer signals for me to retrieve them.I snatch them quickly as they roll through on the luggage belt, relieved abouthow easy the process was.
Finally, with the invasiveformalities of travel behind me, the anticipation of escape is finally allowedto settle in. I am greeted once again with the aroma of nutty coffee as I enterthe boarding gate area. It is a theatre, people sitting on the metal framedchairs facing the glass windows, which showcases the Airbus A380. The audienceclap and cheer loudly as the roar of the engine signals the start of theirjourney. Children in front of me with their faces pressed against the glass pane,admire the plane’s size and pilots, who begin to board as I pull out my phoneto take a picture of the plane.
After taking the photo, I decide to block outmy surroundings with the blessing of earphones and wait for my turn to board.862 words
