Why Your Airport is Actually the Worst: Newark Edition

It's been a long time since I've posted anything here, and much longer since I've submitted an entry into my "Airports that Suck" category. In the past, with Detroit and Cincinnati, I had expressed a lot of opinions. I am going to do something crazy here and just use cold hard facts . . . mixed with my usual snark. At the end of the day, Cincinnati is still kind of a terrible airport, but Detroit has some redeemable qualities, and I am willing to admit that. Newark (EWR) is actually the undisputed worst airport in the country . . . if not the world.



That's a big claim, Brian! Don't believe me? Just do a google search for the Newark airport's rating and you will find articles from JD Power, Forbes, or Travel & Leisure which ranked Newark the highest on the misery scale this year. Now, as you might imagine, there's a reason I'm writing this right now. For the record, I have always hated Newark since I first set foot in Terminal A more than twelve years ago. This was a time before the United / Continental merger, before TSA Pre-Check, and well before mobile boarding passes. And yet despite these improvements over the years, somehow Newark has actually gotten worse. Let's just go through the whole EWR experience from being dropped off at the curb to (hopefully) your departure. None of the terminals at Newark connect on the other side of security, so if you have to change planes between airlines, things are really going to suck for you because the security lines are the worst in the country.



Let's say you are being dropped off at Terminal C, the largest and most modernized of the terminals. There are multiple security checkpoints to handle the volume of passengers. Unfortunately for you, an angry TSA agent will yell at you and tell you to not use the checkpoint closest to your gate because it is closed for some inexplicable reason. You are then trapped in some no man's land that cannot access the other checkpoints because you will have to go either up or down to walk down to the next checkpoint. Not to worry, though, because the up or down decision will be made for you. At least one of the escalators will be broken. If you do end up going down, this might be your most successful option as the security line tends to extend into baggage claim particularly around holiday times. I am convinced that the whole reason TSA Pre-Check exists is because of the Newark airport. Yet even with Pre-Check, you will be putting in some time in a line. What makes this so confusing is that the Newark Airport is only the 14th busiest airport in the country, yet airports that make up the top three like O'Hare, Atlanta, or LAX somehow operate far more efficiently.

Let's say you have pre-check. Congratulations! You've saved 50 + minutes waiting in line. You will be slowed down at the bin station for unforeseen reasons. As you approach the metal detector, an angry TSA agent will continuously yell, "WALK!!!" at everyone queuing up to walk through. Considering the speed at which you are requested to run through the metal detector, it is unknown why there is ever a security line. Also, the metal detectors are obviously turned off.

Now that you've made it through, congratulations again! You've completed the most difficult part of your journey unless you need to use a bathroom, and odds are that you do because you spent a long time in that security line. I have some bad news for you. The ratio of bathrooms to passengers is something like -50 to 1. If your gate is in the large triangle-shaped concourse serving about 30 United gates, there are two small bathrooms. If you are a woman, I feel truly bad for you because there will just never be a time that you won't have to wait in line. If you are a man, you will be able to empathize with the women because you too will have to wait in line. There are a TOTAL of six men's stalls for the entire concourse. Let's pretend that only smaller 737s are parking at the concourse (which of course is silly because there are 757s, 787s, 777s and other large aircraft parking there as well). But for the sake of argument, let's pick one of the smallest planes United flies and say only 20 of them are parked at the concourse. That's 3000 people in the concourse vying for two bathrooms. You can see why this is absolutely idiotic. Furthermore, if you think the United Club is your ace-in-the-hole for bathrooms, you would be wrong. The United Club has no bathrooms.

Finish your business in the bathroom? Congratulations! You are efficient! You got through security AND the restroom and didn't miss your flight? WOW! Off to the gate! Wanting to grab some food quick? Sorry, only iPad orders are available at sit down restaurants where you can order things like buffalo wings. There are no quick grab-and-go food items unless you walk to the far end of the United terminal by gate 130 where there's a Wendy's, and given what you've just gone through, you definitely do not have time for that. Ok, so hungry and exhausted, you arrive at the gate where they have finished boarding even though it's 45 minutes before your plane is scheduled to depart. The four gate agents working the flight are loudly talking about a passenger they don't like. If you have a confirmed seat, you are in decent shape as long as you were able to get to the gate more than 30 minutes before the plane was scheduled to leave. United gate agents in Newark love to close the door early.

Do you have a standby ticket to Los Angeles? Oh no. I'm so sorry. Gosh, that's . . . that's just terrible. You're flying standby on one of United's most profitable routes in the system. That means almost every flight is at capacity. But I get it, flights are expensive. Good luck. Those gate agents have called for final boarding. You are patiently waiting at the gate, checking your phone and the screen in case you are miraculously cleared. A woman and her very young daughter approach the gate because they were somehow split up and would like seats together. All four gate agents attack the problem by telling the woman they can't possibly do anything about it. No standbys have been called. You wait patiently because your employee travel manual tells you not to bother the gate agents while they're "working." Every other airport either calls you by name or clears you via a mobile app. Newark does not do this with any sort of consistency, so I hope you've pounded on the desk and reminded them that you're flying standby. Because if you've followed the rules of nonrev flying and were a patient, courteous, and non-intrusive passenger at the gate, they've already closed the doors and told you it was your fault that you didn't force the issue and throw yourself in front of the door. They let you know it's not their responsibility to clear standbys, similar to how it's not their responsibility to help the woman and her young daughter. The plane closes the door 40 minutes early with multiple seats open and standbys stranded at the gate. 8 passengers show up 30 minutes prior to departure, but the gate is already "closed," even though there is surely still a line of passengers slowly inching their way down the jetbridge. These passengers who were denied boarding are now competing with you for seats on the next flight, which is oversold. Your day will not improve. You will slowly begin to starve to death while soiling yourself due to the lack of bathrooms. Your name will slowly be transferred from one flight to the next. This is the only way anyone will ever know your name. Unfortunately, nobody will care because you're in New Jersey. Your humanity has been reduced to a standby listing that will likely never bear fruit. Over the airport PA, you hear your name called. A gate agent is doing their job! In the greatest of tragedies, you don't have the energy to get to the gate. A cart runs you over and your body is dragged past five gates. As if by miracle you see the LAX flight boarding right in front of you. You have been given a seat. You limp down the jetway, looking forward to any sort of sustenance even if it's just a small bag of pretzels.

You wait 50 minutes for the plane to push from the gate. The pilots tell you there's a maintenance issue, but claim it's been resolved and they're finishing up the paperwork. They push from the gate 35 minutes later. It's a sunny day, though light rain showers are forecast 8 hours from now. United operations in Newark blames the delay on weather. The control tower also delays all flights arriving/departing the airport due to strong winds and severe weather. The last recorded wind speed was 15 kts, a pretty average wind if there ever was one. You are #15 for departure. 38 passengers will miss their connection to Tokyo out of LAX. They will not be compensated with a hotel because the delay is on "weather." Two hours after it was supposed to depart, the 757 finally lifts off and climbs away from Newark in a sharp banking turn. A woman screams. A baby cries. A dog  emotional support animal barks. The flight attendants are complaining about the captain. The captain is complaining to the first officer about the flight attendants.

The pilots roll out of the turn. There is a single chime over the PA. They are soon out of Newark's airspace. At that moment, a silence falls upon the cabin. The woman has stopped screaming. The dog  emotional support animal has fallen asleep. The flight attendants phone the captain to see if she would like a meal, or perhaps even an ice cream sundae. The captain tells the first officer that she has never worked with a finer group of flight attendants and makes a note to submit their names for recognition by the company. The first officer is meditating, which is pretty standard practice after leaving Newark's airspace. The rest of the flight is calm minus a few pockets of light chop enroute.

Somewhere in 19A, an orthodox jew bites into his inflight meal and realizes it's not kosher. He laughs heartily at this misfortune. A woman in a hijab sitting next to him offers pita and hummus to the man. He graciously accepts and the two share earbuds and watch, "Into the Spider-Verse" together.  Back in Basic Economy, a NYPD cop and a young man from Harlem swap their favorite Dad jokes. A middle-aged white man in a MAGA hat connects to the in-flight wi-fi and logs on to facebook. "Your argument contained so many valid points," he replies to his trans niece. "I can't believe I have been so narrow-minded in this regard. Look forward to seeing you at the lake this summer! I promise to stop posting right-wing memes, LOL."

One must experience the ultimate low that is Newark Liberty International in order to reach the nirvana that is physically leaving Newark Airport. It is a feeling that cannot be disregarded. One emerges a more thoughtful, kinder, better person. While I wouldn't wish for my worst enemies to go through Newark, I will know that if they emerge intact on the other side, they will no longer be my enemies. Namaste.

Back in the "City"

For what would be my longest amount of time off for the entire month of March, I double-legged it from Seattle over to Newark by way of Minneapolis, my old stomping grounds. Doing it that way allowed me to arrive at a reasonable hour instead of 6am after a red-eye. Thanks in part to loud refrigerators in my hotel rooms and faulty climate control, I didn't sleep well for the previous few nights, so sleep was a priority.

I touched down in Newark, where the pilots said the temperature was 70 degrees, albeit very windy. It didn't last. The following day was in the 30s and then 20s. I can't seem to find decent weather anywhere. My first day in New Jersey was spent relaxing. But my main purpose for being on the wrong side of the country was thanks to my girlfriend's parents buying us tickets to see Billy Joel at Madison Square Garden.

He does performances at the Garden once a month and plans to do so until people stop coming. By the looks of things, it may be a while before this happens It was notably an older crowd, and very very white.

I had recently watched a documentary about Billy Joel going to the Soviet Union as one of the first American artists to be welcomed in under Gorbachev. In it, they kept remarking on how the Soviet party leaders were holding their ears and walking out of the performance because it was not a sound they had heard before.

The documentary credits him for bringing rock to the Soviet Union, but it's just odd for me to think of Billy Joel as a "rocker." To me, he's mostly a piano player who gets played on easy listening radio stations. One of his band mates from the Soviet Union tour was the guy in this picture who has aged markedly better than Billy Joel himself. Let that be a lesson kids -- don't turn to a life of alcoholism. It turns you into a humpty dumpty potato face.

At one point, Billy got up from his piano to "rock" out to We Didn't Start the Fire while holding a guitar. Not playing, holding. I'm not sure why he was given the guitar if he wasn't going to play. He had the appearance of an old drunk uncle at a wedding, playing an inflatable instrument. At other points, other musical relics of the past made brief appearances to perform with Billy. The Young Rascals came on stage to perform Good Lovin' and John Mellencamp also showed up to do a song. (Not to be confused with John Cougar Mellencamp).

Needless to say, the mostly older crowd, reached for their knee braces and pacemakers to sway slowly back and forth to these nostalgic reminders of what once was. I exaggerate only slightly. As much as I poke fun of it all, he really is an impressive performer. When back at the piano, he was in his element, playing the keys aggressively and with purpose. No sheet music whatsoever. After performing for almost 2 and a half hours straight, he performed a few more of his hits and called it a night. He slowly got up from the piano and made his way off the stage to standing ovation. The years have not been good to Billy Joel.

We set out into the cold Manhattan night and back to beautiful New Jersey. For the rest of March I will not really have any downtime. I will be working for most of the month, with just two days off in a row at any given time. It's not ideal. Who works five days in a row and only gets two days off? That's just craziness. I'm not sure how anyone can live like that.

It's Up to You, Newark, New York.

Yes, I'm still here. The fact of the matter is that I can count on one hand how many overnights I have had over the last two months. Two. I was in Fresno once and ate at Quizno's twice. This fact is perhaps not worthy of a blog post. And last week I was overnight in Leon/Guanajuato where I took this picture during my preflight. I have not turned into a "Slam-Clicker," the term for crew members who arrive at the hotel, latch their door, and don't emerge until their next report time. My last trip to Mexico didn't arrive until close to 9 pm after some delays, and I had an early morning report, so I simply went to bed.


For the last few days, I was in beautiful New Jersey, an expression I use with just a hint of sarcasm. One day, Nicole and I went into "the city" as folks around here refer to New York. As Nicole's birthday was coming up, we prepared for a crazy night in New York  the city to celebrate. After driving through the Lincoln Tunnel, we emerged into a land of bad drivers, aggressive taxis, slow tour buses, and millions of angry New Yorkers city people. Horns were blaring everywhere. Every man for themselves! It was clear this was not Japan, where people are respectful -- even in crowds.

Our first order of business was to find B&H Photo, a major online camera retail store whose flagship store is in New York the city. Over the years, I have ordered many products from B&H, so I was eager to see this mythical land. Having recently visited Yodobashi Camera in Japan, B&H was a surprising letdown. Whereas the Kyoto Yodobashi I visited had seemingly every camera product available for sale, B&H displayed only the most expensive camera products from each major brand, but you had to ask to take a look at lenses or other options by lining up at a counter. Not nearly as fun.

We didn't leave empty-handed, because Nicole was mesmerized by a speaker system that had water and lights that bounced to match the music. While Nicole was sucked into the vortex of the hypnotic lights and water, I purchased said speakers for her birthday. Then we had dinner and went to see my very first broadway musical. I have seen broadway shows in Milwaukee, Chicago, London's West End, and even Green Bay, but never physically on Broadway. Nor have I ever seen Cats, so this was a day of firsts. Meeeow!

At intermission, I was a bit confused. I was trying to figure out the story until I realized there wasn't one until meow. It was like a roll call of different cat characters, and what I could only conclude was an expose on sexism in the cat world because nobody wanted to befriend the older lady cat (played by British pop star Leona Lewis), but had no problem befriending the older men cats. Meow why is that? The dancing was impressive, particularly toward the end of the show and meow that I had accepted that there was no story, I could appreciate it for what it was.

Cats at one time was the longest running Broadway musical of all time, but disappeared for a while and is now coming back. I was always wondering what all the fuss was about and meow I know. After the show, we fought off the crowds and began heading out of New York the city. We drove through Times Square, an area I had not seen since I visited back in 2001, prior to 9/11. I felt fortunate to be in the safety of a car. Everything just seems so chaotic and overrun by tourists. This part of the city is simply not my scene. New York is over-romanticized on TV.

Nicole suggests a spinoff of the show Friends that centers around a cast of characters who also frequent the Central Perk coffee shop, but are angry New Yorkers who can't believe how this one group of oblivious friends keep taking over the nice couches and chairs. I have lived in many a city over the years and there's just something about New York that brings out the worst in me. It's like I want to fight everyone. Of course, this is evidently how everyone else feels and every one goes about their day with a chip on their shoulder and a clenched fist.

The following day I watched in horror as my flight from Newark to LA went from 18 available seats to Minus 40. Something happened in the morning where dozens of passengers kept getting rolled down to the following flight, which grew exponentially over the course of the day. I couldn't risk doing standby on a day like this when I had to work the following day. I could see from the standby lists that multiple people were already asking for the jumpseat, a prospect that I did not find appealing for a six hour flight anyway. With few options, but lots of unused airline miles, I secured a seat in first class. Chocolate sundae, yum!

Ah, the Stress of Holiday Travel

We find our heroes in Michigan's upper peninsula. After a significant delay due to low visibility, we finally acquired the aircraft, flew it to Detroit, turned around, and did an approach to minimums in Escanaba, Michigan. The following morning, we all woke up at 5am in an attempt to take the first flight to Detroit and go home, or in my case -- New Jersey. Then the problems began. The weather automation system at the airport was broken, and since the airport is not towered, there was no one there to either fix it or create their own weather report. Thus I was stranded in Escanaba indefinitely. I seriously contemplated getting a rental car and driving to Green Bay or Appleton just to get out. The problem with this plan was the lack of a car rental company that was open. Eventually by sheer luck, or "prayers," as an elderly passenger claimed, the weather automation was back on line and the 11 of us that remained at the airport boarded a nearly empty plane and were off to Detroit.

Once in Detroit, I had to exit through security, take a bus to another terminal, reenter security, and run to my gate (which of course was at the farthest end of the terminal). It was Christmas eve and the airports were crowded and oversold on flights. Knowing I had basically no chance of getting a seat in the back, I asked for the jumpseat up front. It was a short flight over to Newark, where it was . . . 72 degrees on December 24th.

At any opportunity, I tried to get outside. Each day in New Jersey got a little bit colder. By the end, the temperature had dropped to the 50s (still unusual mind you). Nicole and I visited numerous parks, such as the one you see here in Verona. Nicole practiced her beam routine and was thankful the French judge was not there to deduct 4/10 of a point for that small bounce at the dismount. After that we went to a mansion in Montclair called the VanVleck House. It would normally have lush gardens and look very elegant. It is evidently popular as a wedding venue, but when we arrived, it looked haunted and spooky. I guess this is to be expected when it is December and everything is dead.









The next day, I was on six different flights. One to go from Newark to Minneapolis, and then five more flights that made up my work schedule for the day. This was the most I've ever done in one day. It was not too stressful, though, because I got to land at Appleton International, an airport that I have not landed at since 2001 when I was flying a Cessna 152. There was something poetic about returning to the place where I had my first solo. A lot has changed since then. A new terminal building was built, two of the airlines that used to fly there (Midwest and Northwest) no longer exist, and despite all my flight training being grounded after 9/11, going to school in D.C. for a degree unrelated to flight, attending graduate school in California for a degree unrelated to flight, and almost 15 years after that first solo, I had returned to the airport that started it all. It took a while, but it was worth it.

Fall in Jersey

Two days off. Where should I go? Well, across the country of course. Nicole was keen to return to her motherland in order to shake hands and fist pump with a new arrival to her family, so I tagged along. My disdain for the garden state and the majority of its residents is rarely disguised, though I do admit a peculiar small town quaintness to much of the state. Having left triple digit temperatures in Los Angeles, it was also good, in some ways, to be reminded that it is actually October. The trees were changing color and there was a crispness to the air that I haven't felt in years. Exhaling into the air gave way to smoke -- a novelty to me as a child...and now. Nicole and I embarked on a walk through Grover Cleveland Park in Caldwell, NJ. Yes. Grover Cleveland: a president you think so little about you may not have known he was even a president. But he was not just any president. Nay, he was the only president to have been elected twice in two non-consecutive terms! Ooooh. Aaaah. His first lady was also his sister. And obviously, with a park named after him, he was born in Caldwell, NJ. And now you know. 

The trails around the park were filled with walkers and joggers, all dressed as if it was the middle of July. The joggers had to be careful not to run too close to people in the midst of a conversation lest they get smacked by a rogue hand gesture. (There's a lot of hands when talking in New Jersey) That evening we partook in a typical New Jersey meal of salad, pizza, eggplant parm, and pasta with vodka sauce. I think there was something else there too, but I digest...   I can't stop myself. I established bad precedent some years ago when I had flown in to New Jersey on a redeye for a wedding and was very tired and hungry and proceeded to eat my rehearsal dinner steak and that of three others around me...as well as a plate full of desserts. From that moment on, I was labeled as the eater. No turning back now. 

The following day, we headed to Wightman's Farm in Morristown, New Jersey for another example of old school Americana and quaintness. Children were picking out pumpkins, and also walking into my knees. People were making hand gestures to describe the shape of pumpkin they wanted...or possibly just asking one another how many is too many meatballs. It is unclear. We looked at gourds and pumpkins and cider and all kinds of autumnal produce. Freshly made cinnamon donuts were purchased. Donuts were eaten. After bloating once again, I rolled back to LA and then on to Fresno to report for another week of west coast flying.