Confessions of an airport snob.
When you’re soaring the friendly skies (or at least mildly tolerable ones), your airport arrival and departure experience can make or break your trip – or at least your mood for the next several hours. Is there decent signage, or am I about to accidentally board a flight to Boise instead of Boston? Are the staff helpful, or are they auditioning for the next season of “Customer Service: The Passive-Aggressive Chronicles”? And seriously, are we in the 21st century or did we just step into a retro time warp featuring shag carpeting, orange plastic chairs, and a suspiciously active smoking lounge? As you probably know, my job has me traveling a lot. And by “traveling,” I mean spending so much time in the air I half expect the flight attendants to invite me to the company holiday party. You’d think I’d be jaded by now, trudging through dimly lit terminals that feel like they were last updated when disco was king, dodging wobbling baggage claim belts and boarding bridges that sound like they might not survive the next strong gust of wind. So, when a city actually invests in its airport – whether by renovating it or, even better, unleashing a shiny new terminal that smells faintly of optimism and overpriced matcha bevies – Big Suitcase Girl is gonna notice. And applaud. Loudly. Probably too loudly for an airport. Which brings us to today’s topic: a lovingly judgmental look at a smattering of the best and most “character-building” airports in the continental U.S. Don’t forget to buckle up – there may be some turbulence ahead.
Let’s start with the obvious: LaGuardia
What was once an archaic and appalling dungeon disguised as an airport has been miraculously transformed into a sparkling oasis in the Empire State and, boy, was it worth every agonizing second of that seemingly eternal wait. Gone are the low, oppressive ceilings, the cryptic or missing signage that turned every gate change into a real-life escape room, and bathrooms so sketchy that I often wondered if we had somehow been cast in the next slasher movie without our permission. And let’s not forget the vending machines that doubled as “healthy eats” offerings. Nice try, folks. If COVID gave us but one silver lining (besides sourdough starters and learning the latest TikTok dances), it was the powers that be deciding to send LaGuardia to rehab. The first time I arrived, post-renovation, I had a brief existential crisis as I was sure we had landed in the wrong city. Where the heck were we? Everything shimmered! There was lively music and whimsical water features! There was air…and space…and functioning doors! The place feels like it’s having a midlife crisis but in the best way possible. The airline crews are smiling, the staff seem glad to be there, and I didn’t feel like I needed a tetanus shot just by touching a handrail. Is this the renaissance of air travel? The revival of jet-set glamour? I say yes – this version of the nearly 90-year-old airport is now the Taj Mahal of the eastern seaboard. If the Taj Mahal had a Shake Shack and better Wi-Fi.
Let’s now go west (young woman!) and take a gander at good ol’ LAX
That lovable chaos gremlin that it is. First off, you always know you’ve landed at the right spot thanks to its iconic control tower, which looks like something out of a retro sci-fi flick where aliens run a very disorganized DMV (pretty much a reality where I live…) The place is a United Nations of travelers, airlines, and fashion statements from around the world – including those darling neck pillow ensembles. Need some local flare? LAX has you covered with all the Dodgers, Lakers, and Rams, and Chargers gear to outfit a JV marching band. It’s like a mega fan fever dream, without stepping foot in one of the local landmark stadiums. And you can buy your fill of See’s candy. At the airport! Because nothing says “Welcome to La La Land quite like a pound of butterscotch squares consumed while waiting for a rideshare. Speaking of waiting…baggage claim. Oh, baggage claim. It’s not so much a process at LAX as it is a journey of self-discovery. During my most recent trip to the southern side of the Golden State, I arrived on an easy Sunday morning and in a hopeful mood.We then waited a minimum of 45 minutes before the carousel cranked to life to begrudgingly cough up bags like it had been woken from its winter hibernation and was deeply resentful. But hey — I now know how many steps a person can get in strolling around baggage claim, because I had time to walk it. Twice. That said, I’m pleased to report that the aging grand dame (ahem, I’m talking about the airport) is getting the glow-up she deserves. After decades of giving off strong Britney breakdown vibes, she’s getting herself a facelift – how fitting for a city where even dogs get Botox and fillers. LA itself? Still a magical mess. It’s a cosmic smoothie of culinary wizardry, spiritual awakenings, traffic-induced anxiety and the popping of Xanax, and, of course, palm trees and pool parties. Sure, it’s not without its issues – wildfires, bumper-to-bumper soul crushing commutes, and enough avocado toast to form a commune – but there’s no place quite like it. Whether you’re in town for business, pleasure, or just an expensive layover, LA manages to be both extra and exceptional.
San Francisco/SFO
Yet another one of my favorite destinations – and no, not just for the airport snacks! The love for and sentiment doesn’t just apply to that beloved crooner Tony Bennett; I leave bits of my heart each time I visit the Bay Area. When at SFO, I find myself enchanted by the airport’s “feel” – it’s like a quirky museum curated by someone with a love for both aviation and fashion throwbacks. I’m talking vintage flight attendant uniforms that say, “coffee, tea, or would you like to join me at the disco?” They’ve got impressive displays of art, random aviation trivia, and enough interesting tidbits and factoids to keep the most impatient traveler mildly entertained – or at least distracted from the $15 bottled water. Now, if you’re a loyal window seat jockey but get a little twitchy about flying over large bodies of water, the approach over the Bay in broad daylight isn’t for the faint at heart and may have you clutching that armrest or the flier beside you like they owe you money. Just remember…it’s all part of the scenic panic picnic.
Boston
It’s never not a treat to go to Boston for a Dunkin-fueled, Red Sox-lovin’, pahk ya cah in Hahvahd Yahd adventure. On this one, I’m just gonna grab my bags, skip right through a review of the actual airport (aging and um, uniquely challenging at times) and jump in a metaphorical taxi so I can share my adoring thoughts on the people and the place. “Welcome to Bahston – where ya headed, doll? Hope you brought a jacket, some thick skin, and an appetite for shellfish, ‘cause you ain’t leaving this city without a wicked good lobstah roll and a cold one at Cheers.” Your first stop: any place that doesn’t end in ‘Express’ or ‘King’. Second stop: maybe a minor emergency session after attempting to cross Mass Ave during rush hour. Just try to blend in (meaning don’t speak and give it away) and walk like the locals do – with sass, force, and impatience. For those of you brave enough to get behind the wheel, expect the unexpected. Potholes galore, countless roundabouts (my God, the roundabouts), aggressive driving habits like weaving and tailgating (and not the fun kind), and random tea parties held over in the harbor. And don’t forget to toss in those raucous St. Patty’s Day parades to make those aforementioned “unique challenges” that much more challenging. But hey, isn’t that just part of the charm of Bean Town? As I was once told, “if someone honks at ya and flips ya the bird, just remember that’s how we say ‘welcome’!” I can’t wait to go back for more abuse later this year.
Jackson, WY
Landing at the Jackson Hole Airport feels less like arriving at your destination and more like being dropped into a Wild West time machine – with a first-class ticket to “Whoa, where are we?” You step off the plane, not into a terminal, but onto the actual tarmac. Yep, you’re walking across the runway like you’re part of a very outdoorsy fashion show, minus the catwalk and plus the occasional whiff of jet fuel. All while the Grand Tetons photobomb your every step like a majestic postcard come to life. It’s August, but the air has that crisp, clean bite that says, “Hope you packed a flannel, city slicker.” Suddenly you’re wondering if Kevin Costner is going to ride by on horseback yelling “Cut!” because clearly, you’ve stumbled onto the set of Yellowstone. And truth be told, you find yourself kind of hoping you have. Forget airport chaos. This is frontier luxury – with a baggage claim that somehow makes you want to buy a cowboy hat and reconsider your career path. Or maybe that was just this gal.
Denver and Washington/Reagan (DCA)
When I was kind of new to this “work travel” life, and before I wised up to the ways of the world, I repeatedly flew innocently into Denver and DCA. Those two beasts gave me PTSD, what I call “Pretty Traumatizing Security Delays”. After entering the airport and checking my bag (cuz that’s what I do), I’d head to the security checkpoint with a “this is no big deal” attitude. Slow your roll, rookie. Gliding down the escalator to get to security and seeing those long AF lines would send my pulse racing and turn my optimism spiraling down faster than a broker on a bad day at the NYSE. That’s when I knew it was time to invest in TSA Pre-Check, AKA, the ‘VIP Fast Pass for people who have trust issues with airport lines.’ Seriously, after Denver’s labyrinth of gates and DC’s ‘Surprise! Another security checkpoint!’ vibe, I was one emotional support pretzel away from snapping. Pre-Check saved my sanity — and my socks from being publicly shamed one more time.
And finally, I give you…DFW
Oh, Dallas/Fort Worth, what can I say? That airport – the third busiest in the world, mind you – feels less like a travel hub and more like a surprise obstacle course with planes. Its massive terminals can and will make or break your trip, especially when connecting during severe storm season or what us Okies call Mother Nature’s Thunderdome. Is that thunder I hear? Ground stop! Tornadoes in El Paso? Sure, why not. Delay all arrivals and departures! I’ve learned the hard way over the years – DFW between April and June is a gamble. And not the fun and debaucherous Vegas kind. There’s nothing quite like running at whatever “top speed” might look like for you (I’m somewhere between “determined jog” and “winded power walk”) through your arrival terminal, up and down escalators to the SkyLink, then doing it all again in your departure terminal. During a recent adventure to San Francisco with some of my lovely colleagues, we connected through DFW on our return. And – you guessed it – Friday afternoon weather delays galore! I’ll spare you the suspense of wondering: no, I am not Sha’Carri Richardson. Get the picture? The only thing I was sprinting for was my pride and gate C27. Thankfully, I was wearing sneakers, so I managed what could generously be described as a “low-stakes sprint” successfully and made it in the nick of time. Now, I can hear you asking: “BSG, do you have anything good about DFW?” Why, yes. Yes, there is! If you’re blessed with extra time (read: stuck during a delay), treat yourself to a soothing stroll through Terminal D. You’ll think you’ve found nirvana right there in central Texas. It’s like someone said, “What if an airport was also a spa, a museum, and a foodie paradise?” Art installations, luxury shopping, and actual edible food. Terminal D is DFW’s apology letter in architectural form. Conversely, Terminal C…let’s just say if Terminal D is Beyoncé, Terminal C is your eccentric uncle’s garage sale. I could go on and on (and believe me, I have lots of thoughts) but will take a page from my Mimi who often told me, “If you can’t say something nice…” Thanks Mimi. You saved a terminal today. Now for a nugget of exciting news…given the city-sized volume of passengers cycling through DFW and the miraculous patience of airport staff everywhere, it’s no surprise that a brand-new Terminal F is underway and, praise be, poor old Terminal C will also get a reno/refresh. In the immortal words of Mrs. Doubtfire, “help is on the way, dear!” So, let’s give a Texas-sized yeehaw to the airport gods and the overflowing piggy bank of the Lone Star State for this ambitious upgrade. But if you’re smart – and I know you are – do yourself a favor and do as I say, not as I did: and avoid connecting through DFW in the springtime unless you enjoy gambling with your sanity. I’ll be over here, awaiting your thank you notes…and possibly catching my breath.
We’ve now arrived safely at our destination, and while we wait patiently at baggage claim, rather than the usual Cautionary Tales and Helpful Hints from the Road, I want to turn the tables and ask which airports do you love and loathe? Where are you headed next and are you excited to get there or dreading the arrival/departure process? I’d love to hear your thoughts!
Here’s hoping Big Suitcase Girl continues to offer insight, suggestions, highlights and, at times, a smattering of lowlights, mixed with a bunch of levity around the big world of travel, no matter the airports and cities you visit or the size of suitcase you choose to bring. Until next time – happy travels!
You never know where my travels might take me, but I always make the most out of each journey, as seen here two summers ago at Lake Tahoe.
Big Suitcase Girl 
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