I have a fixation with the arrival and departure boards at airports. Since I was young, I have been fascinated with the names of known and unknown destinations that keep flashing and changing in a wink as flights come and go. Long before today’s tiny blue computer screens started dotting airport lounges, there were the big black boards with flapping white lettering where arrival and departure times and destinations changed like falling dominoes. My favourite one was at the Narita International Airport in Tokyo. In the midst of that highly ordered, immaculate airport was this huge board that indicated arrivals and departures to international destinations that I had never heard of – Subic Bay, Jeju, Irkutsk and Port Moresby, all promising and exotic, whose traffic with Japan was sufficient enough to be served with direct flights to Tokyo.

And the Narita airport for me still remains the most fun airport for its ample opportunities for people watching. Sip wine on the balcony just above the security check and watch pouting Lolitas in Goth platforms share the queue with Chanel addicts and other fresh faces that can’t wait to flash platinum at the duty free inside. Hair bands, eyebrows plucked to a straight edged line, designer totes and flashy finger rings parading down, passport in hand. And that is just the men! Or if you’ve just arrived to Tokyo then nothing beats the silent purring airport limousine buses that whisk you to Shinjuku and other central Tokyo destinations; your luggage deftly handled by white-gloved men who load it into the buses and bid you farewell in unison like an opera cast taking their final bow.

But when it comes to real service, as in the kind that’s related more to your comfort than politeness, none beats Singapore’s Changi Airport. If you’re travelling biz you are of course cosseted, cuddled and spoilt by your airline in their airport lounge. But at Changi I love the luxury that even the cattle class gets. Paying a bit gets access to any of the airport’s lounges, gets you the best dim sums at the airport, a hot shower with Dermatologica products and yes, oh yes, a real bed with a blanket where you can sleep while waiting for your connecting flight. What’s more, they actually send someone to wake you up in time for boarding.

Hong Kong too has a great airport but what I love there, is that super high-speed train that delivers you to the city’s CBD just as you’ve started reading your newspaper. London’s Heathrow Express is fantastic too for its efficiency and gets you to Paddington in just as much time as the BBC World needs to go through the headlines. On this train, in true British style you can actually buy a first class ticket in case you want free newspaper and coffee with extra leg room and no fellow passengers. Going back to Hong Kong, I love that airport also because they seem to have a perennial sale going on in the airport’s fashion mall. On one of my trips, I was able to paw on a great pair of Shanghai Tang jeans, a stunning vintage Lanvin bag, Dior glasses for a wicked price, Baccarat earrings and loads of great Christmas gifts. And it’s the only airport that I’ve seen where the Chanel store is so fully stocked.

But when it comes to shopping, nothing can beat the Fly Buy Dubai duty free. Dishdasha-clad Emiratis rub shoulders with Aussie beach babes. You can come away with cars and carpets and everything in between. It’s humungous and would have been really fun to shop, but for the danger you are always in cause so many shops, so little time, such a huge place; all this means that you could easily get lost and not make it to your flight as has almost happened to me more than once. The Dubai Duty Free is serious about getting people to shop. This zeal also includes hosting tennis championships. Tennis at the airport! So, just last month, they pitted Andy Roddick, Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer against each other. All this effort and seriousness just shuts Dubai’s critics to silence.

Can you imagine what the world was like without duty free? What would we do at airports after check-in? A quick look at Wikipedia confirms that duty free started in 1947 at Shannon airport, Ireland, where passengers would shop while their trans-Atlantic flight stopped over for re-fuelling. But very frankly, even though it is convenient to while away time after check-in, I want to shop not when I leave a country but when I come back to my city of residence. No security headaches and no lugging around whisky bottles through your business trip. Besides, at many airports that have duty free upon arrival, you can just about buy any products from around the globe, at home. Airports like the one in Manila have been clever to incorporate a huge duty free mall in its arrivals section just so that you can stock up right before heading home.

When it comes to small luxuries, you can’t beat the Scandinavian airports. The Stockholm airport in particular is a favourite. It’s a silent airport. So no mispronounced announcements asking people to hurry for flights where they strap and lock you in half an hour before it takes off. Cutting out unnecessary announcements simply cuts the stress at airports. If you were snoozing, you probably wouldn’t have heard the desperate calls looking for you anyway.

But the craziest airport I’ve ever used was the war-torn Jaffna airport in northern Sri Lanka. For some strange reason the security after check-in was asking us to snap pictures from our cameras for ‘safety’ (how?). I had to weigh my luggage myself on those tall red machines where the arrow swings into action, once you place your luggage at the foot. Then I had to wheel my Rimowa to the waiting luggage truck and load it once again all by myself at which point a kind soldier took over and hauled it into the plane’s rear. The flight was equally exciting, especially when after take-off, a friendly South American voice sanctimoniously announced that his name was Jesus and he would be our pilot. The Lion Air flight turbulently pummeled its way to Colombo undoubtedly under the shaky guidance of Jesus. The applause from the passengers, when it landed, was deafening and clearly heartfelt.

But now as airports start resembling nuclear facilities where screening takes on absurd proportions and dogs sniff up people as well as bombs, it would be a nice sign of normalcy to turn them into comfort zones with free Wi-Fi, polite security staff, plants, trees, free water, massages, shopping and a genuinely good dining experience. This better experience would take the edge off exaggerated security measures and turn them into real destinations. Just as when I used to hope and pray that my flight from Narita would take off from Terminal 1 where the airport authority-run café on the second floor, served the world’s best ice cream sundae 24 hours a day, or where Ms Miki, the manicurist on the ground floor, restored your post-packing ravaged hands to perfection.

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