The Castle

[Captain Halliday]

Zurich City Festival - part 2

In the early afternoon, the temperature topped out at 31 degrees.

Just walking around the festival was hard work.

Spare a thought for the people performing the gymnastics display.



Nearby a small island on the lake was also transformed into a temporary aero-medical base for the duration of the festival.



One of the many food precincts included an Aussie bar and grill.

It wasn’t doing much business.



Maybe the Swiss just don’t like Brown Brothers.



Or perhaps it was just the Swiss take on Aussie tucker:



Where it did seem very Aussie was on the "beach".

It was packed!



We skipped the festival's night session, which included DJs bands, fireworks, a drone show and plenty more giant coughtails!

 

[Captain Halliday]

Parking in Switzerland

Throughout Switzerland we relied on public transport.

Good thing too, because I’m not sure I would have managed to get my head around the parking.

While most of the world parks between the marked lines, in Switzerland they do it a little differently.

Here’s the car park at Hilton Zurich Airport the day we arrived:



When I first saw this, I thought it was just someone who’d parked badly and just didn't care.

But it was all the cars.



I thought perhaps one person got it wrong and the others followed like lemmings.

But there were plenty of empty spaces.

If so, any number of drivers could have broken the chain and picked a spot between the line.

None did.



I wondered if it was just a quirk of the Hilton, but no.

I watched the driver of this car park outside a minimart and she was on the line too.

When she arrived all five spaces were available.



Back at the Hilton – different day, different section of the car park, same result.






Even in parts of the car park with no other vehicles nearby, people still parked on the line.




Wouldn't happen with an Aussie parking inspector on the job.

 

[Captain Halliday]

The A380 Shop

Like most average travellers, Mrs H doesn’t know planes the way AFFers do.

She wouldn’t know a Boeing from a Bombardier.

This became quite clear as we were heading back to our hotel in Zurich and she said, “oh we just passed an A380 shop”.

Her delayed reaction meant the shop was no longer in view.

Her outlandish claim could not be immediately verified.

I set aside my love hate relationship with google maps and began searching for the answer.

My search turned up nothing useful.

Where Mrs H had seen this place was between eight and ten blocks from the hotel.

So I grabbed a bottle of water and set off in the 34 degree heat in search of “an A380 shop”.

We were staying near the airport, so I wondered if what she had seen was actually a maintenance hanger or perhaps a training simulator.

But it had been spotted in a row of shops in what was essentially a suburban area.

So, I figured it was an actual shop of some kind and most likely a travel agency with a poster or model in the window.

But after what turned out to be a mercifully brief search, I found a large A380 in a shop window.

The shop is called Aeroterminal and it sells mostly diecast models along with a range of other aviation related items.



I spent about half an hour enjoying the store’s air conditioning and looking at models that included many brands long gone.



You can by them boxed to assemble yourself, or select from those already constructed.



Across many of the more common carriers and types, you can even select aircraft with a specific rego:





The owner was a nice bloke who spoke enough English for us to discuss a few items in his store and the details of my trip.

Not surprisingly he was most interested in the aircraft types on which we were flying.



If you really want a full airport experience at home, you can also buy models of all the ground infrastructure.



Fun fact: Captain Joe Gonzalez was the only Filipino to ever take command of a Concorde when he flew a demonstration flight from Paris to Manila via Bahrain and Singapore.

But Philippine Airlines decided not to but the supersonic jet.



For those interested in military aircraft, there’s also abasement section with plenty of diecast military aircraft.



The pricing appeared to operate in the same mysterious way as airfares.

For example, a 1:200 model of a British Airways A380 was CFH145.

The same size model of a Qantas A380 CFH175.



For the record, the store doesn’t sell A380’s.

Not the real ones anyway.

 

[Pushka]

Parking in Switzerland

Throughout Switzerland we relied on public transport.

Good thing too, because I’m not sure I would have managed to get my head around the parking.

While most of the world parks between the marked lines, in Switzerland they do it a little differently.

Here’s the car park at Hilton Zurich Airport the day we arrived:

View attachment 366742

When I first saw this, I thought it was just someone who’d parked badly and just didn't care.

But it was all the cars.

View attachment 366743

I thought perhaps one person got it wrong and the others followed like lemmings.

But there were plenty of empty spaces.

If so, any number of drivers could have broken the chain and picked a spot between the line.

None did.

View attachment 366744

I wondered if it was just a quirk of the Hilton, but no.

I watched the driver of this car park outside a minimart and she was on the line too.

When she arrived all five spaces were available.

View attachment 366745

Back at the Hilton – different day, different section of the car park, same result.

View attachment 366746


View attachment 366747

Even in parts of the car park with no other vehicles nearby, people still parked on the line.


View attachment 366748

Wouldn't happen with an Aussie parking inspector on the job.

Maybe the line represents middle of the car?

 

[drron]

But in fact Mrs H was right. Did you admit to that?

 

[Captain Halliday]

Another heatwave

After surviving a heatwave in Amsterdam, we braced ourselves for another one in Zurich.

The hotel did not have a pool, so we had three options.

1. Stay in the hotel which had air conditioning and cold drinks in the lounge.
2. Walk three blocks to the local aquatic centre.
3. Proceed as a normal travel day. See the sites. Slowly melt. Object to paying $14 for a bottle of water and end up with heatstroke.

Mrs H was quick to select option 1.

Miss H was all-in on option 2.

I didn't stand a chance.

Lifeguard duty it was to be.

Leaving Mrs H to her 18th nap of the trip, we set out to the biggest, fanciest, council run public pool I’ve ever seen.

Outside it featured a diving pool.

50 metre lap pool.

A wading pool with small water slides.

And a BBQ area and plenty of seating.



Inside was a 25 metre pool.

Another diving set up.

A waist deep pool for aqua aerobics.

And a 25 metre lap pool.



From the indoor section, this "tunnel" led outside to a spa.



It’s difficult to see in the photo, but along the wall on the left were underwater recliners that offer a bubble massage.



In the background of the picture above you can see the final feature.

No, not the garbage compactor.

The “black hole” waterslide.

Stairs from the indoor pool lead to the top.



Inside the slide was pitch black except for several screens on which were projected videos of sea creatures.

For example, at one point you round a bend to see the opening jaws of a great white shark before the slide takes a sudden dip and the screen goes blank.

It didn’t take much imagination to picture yourself becoming a victim of the predator.

Little did I know the black hole was about to claim me as its next victim.

 

[Flyfrequently]

Oh dear, so waiting for the next instalment @Captain Halliday .......

 

[Seat0B]

You certainly have a knack for suspense thriller writing, @Captain Halliday!

 

[Pushka]

We just need to remember he survived the ordeal to post. Those rides can be rather unpleasant if the clothing goes astray. And not exactly safe sometimes for females.

 

[Captain Halliday]

Swallowed by the black hole

The Black Hole waterslide requires riders to sit in an inflated tube - either a single or double.

Riding with Miss H we grabbed a double and set off to have some fun.

The place was packed with kids – many who weren’t bothering with a tube.

They were also ignoring the stop/go light intended to put some space between each rider.

Preparing for our fourth ride, I placed the tube at the top of the slide and waited for Miss H to hop in front as she’d done each time before.

My grip on the tube began to slip.

The force of the water quickly took hold of the tube and it was off down the slide leaving both riders standing at the top of the slide staring at each other.

It was five flights of stairs back down and with a queue of people banked up behind me I took the only sensible, responsible, adult option.

“Right, see ya.” I said over my shoulder to Miss H as I launched into the slide.

I dropped down the first dip but then began to slow dramatically.

As I rounded the first bend, I came to an almost complete stop.

In total darkness I found myself shuffling on my backside and clawing desperately at the sides trying to get moving.

The rushing water sprayed everywhere but did nothing to propel me forwards.

Behind me I could hear children’s voices, giggling and squealing.

I knew it was only a matter of time before someone crashed into me.

Then there was a slight break in the flow of water.

It was a warning sign to brace.

In the total darkness, whoever was coming would have no chance to see me and no way to stop.

Thump.

My left kidney took the first hit – probably by a foot.

A split second later other body parts clattered into my back.

The person shrieked in surprise.

Then laughed hysterically.

A familiar laugh.

Miss H!

“Why didn’t you wait for me to come back up?”

Before she could answer… thump.

She was hit from behind by the next rider the impact reverberating through to me.

“Hurry up!” Miss H bellowed.

But I couldn't go any faster.

I’d shaken most of the water off my hands and was using my palms high up the sides of the slide where it was dry desperate for more traction.

By now we’d passed the second bend in the slide.

But we were still not even a quarter of the way down.

Again, the water slowed for a moment.

The thud of impact was followed by squealing and giggles.

Beyond the third bend the slide dipped and some momentum returned briefly.

But our train of bodies slowed again on the fourth turn.

Thump – another passenger joined the blockade.

This continued all the way to the bottom.

By the time I shuffled into the unloading zone I’d accumulated 12 children.

They were smashed together like the derailed carriages of a train.

A mass of tangled limbs.

I feared carnage.

Broken bones.

Head injuries.

But when I stood up and tuned, all I saw were happy faces.

There was hysterical laughter.

Even cheering.

Everyone thought it was hilarious.

“Again?” I asked Miss H.

“Only with a tube!” she replied sternly.

“Spoilsport” I retorted as I grabbed a tube and headed back up the stairs.

 

[Flyfrequently]

Swallowed by the black hole

The Black Hole waterslide requires riders to sit in an inflated tube - either a single or double.

Riding with Miss H we grabbed a double and set off to have some fun.

The place was packed with kids – many who weren’t bothering with a tube.

They were also ignoring the stop/go light intended to put some space between each rider.

Preparing for our fourth ride, I placed the tube at the top of the slide and waited for Miss H to hop in front as she’d done each time before.

My grip on the tube began to slip.

The force of the water quickly took hold of the tube and it was off down the slide leaving both riders standing at the top of the slide staring at each other.

It was five flights of stairs back down and with a queue of people banked up behind me I took the only sensible, responsible, adult option.

“Right, see ya.” I said over my shoulder to Miss H as I launched into the slide.

I dropped down the first dip but then began to slow dramatically.

As I rounded the first bend, I came to an almost complete stop.

In total darkness I found myself shuffling on my backside and clawing desperately at the sides trying to get moving.

The rushing water sprayed everywhere but did nothing to propel me forwards.

Behind me I could hear children’s voices, giggling and squealing.

I knew it was only a matter of time before someone crashed into me.

Then there was a slight break in the flow of water.

It was a warning sign to brace.

In the total darkness, whoever was coming would have no chance to see me and no way to stop.

Thump.

My left kidney took the first hit – probably by a foot.

A split second later other body parts clattered into my back.

The person shrieked in surprise.

Then laughed hysterically.

A familiar laugh.

Miss H!

“Why didn’t you wait for me to come back up?”

Before she could answer… thump.

She was hit from behind by the next rider the impact reverberating through to me.

“Hurry up!” Miss H bellowed.

But I couldn't go any faster.

I’d shaken most of the water off my hands and was using my palms high up the sides of the slide where it was dry desperate for more traction.

By now we’d passed the second bend in the slide.

But we were still not even a quarter of the way down.

Again, the water slowed for a moment.

The thud of impact was followed by squealing and giggles.

Beyond the third bend the slide dipped and some momentum returned briefly.

But our train of bodies slowed again on the fourth turn.

Thump – another passenger joined the blockade.

This continued all the way to the bottom.

By the time I shuffled into the unloading zone I’d accumulated 12 children.

They were smashed together like the derailed carriages of a train.

A mass of tangled limbs.

I feared carnage.

Broken bones.

Head injuries.

But when I stood up and tuned, all I saw were happy faces.

There was hysterical laughter.

Even cheering.

Everyone thought it was hilarious.

“Again?” I asked Miss H.

“Only with a tube!” she replied sternly.

“Spoilsport” I retorted as I grabbed a tube and headed back up the stairs.

Captain Courageous - you have my vote for The Dad Of The Year!

 

[Captain Halliday]

Aspire lounge Zurich

Next day we set of for Dublin, via London.

From Zurich we were flying BA and this meant our first stop was the Aspire lounge.

We departed mid-morning and breakfast was still being served.

This included a continental buffet of cereals, yogurt, fruit, pastry and a couple of small hot selections which included scrambled eggs.

All drinks including coffee and alcohol were self-serve.





There was ample seating and plenty of charging points.



The lounge overlooks the cavernous check-in area and was a quiet and comfortable space for our 90 minute wait.



It’d rate it as about the same as the better QF domestic J lounges.

 

[Captain Halliday]

Zurich to London

From Zurich to London we were on BA711.

Our aircraft was an A319 seen here in the middle.



From 1C, I watched the relaxed looking flight crew go about their pre-flight.



And noticed the electronic compass (I think) was unserviceable and covered with a yellow sticker.



It must have been a MEL item because we departed anyway.

From a service perspective, this was a terrible flight.

It demonstrated why people use the acronym BA to mean something other than British Airways.

First, the flight attendants clearly didn’t want to be there and gave off a permanently grumpy vibe.

On many flights the crew need to move a few bags to make things fit, but on this flight they went one step further.

They teamed up in pairs to shove bags with full force to the back of lockers.

I was surprised to find my ipad still worked when I was able to retrieve it in London.

The lunch service in Euro business was two slices of processed chicken with four green leaves.

While picking at this a crew member flung the forward curtain onto my tray.

Only my quick reflexes prevented drinks and food going everywhere.

Twice during the flight the crew smashed the forward cupboard door into my right knee.

Then they capped it off by dropping another passenger’s open butter on my leg while clearing the trays.

All of these might just indicate 1C is a poor seat choice.

Accidents happen, but this just seemed more indicative of a careless crew who just wanted the service to be over as quickly as possible.

Additionally, both the wifi and in seat power on this aircraft were inoperative.

To give credit where it’s due, the CSM was proactive and twice offered drink refills despite it only being a 90 min sector.

On the bright side, at least we didn’t need an ambulance on arrival like someone on this flight that pulled in just ahead of us.



My overall rating for BA711 Zurich to London: Bloody Awful.

 

[Captain Halliday]

BA F Lounge

Our layover in London was around three hours and when I arrived at the BA F lounge all three of us were directed to the J lounge.

This seemed odd because my status allowed me, plus one guest.

In hindsight, it was a clue that my frequent flyer number had dropped off the booking.

But at the time, I missed it.

With a further four BA sectors on our Classic Flight Award, including LHRxSIN-SYD in J, not noticing at this point proved to be Seriously Costly and Soul Crushing. (IYKYK)

After showing my FF card, Miss H and I were allowed in.

Mrs H headed upstairs to the J lounge where I'm told she completed her 10-thousand steps for the day just looking for a seat.

In the F lounge, seats were abundant.

On the tables, QR codes encouraged guests to order from the a la carte menu.

But anyone at a table seen fumbling with their phone was swiftly approached by staff and advised there was no a la carte on offer.

No reason was given.

So we headed to the buffet.

There was a good selection available and all of it was better than the processed chicken on the previous flight.



You could order drinks via the app which included a selection of coughtails.










Despite being a bit young, the South African Syrah was very good.



After an enjoyable lunch, the guilt started to kick in that Mrs H was on her own in the J lounge.

So we decided we should join her.

Leaving the F lounge I noticed this helpful sign.



Why it faces passengers leaving the F lounge is a mystery.

But it was very helpful for us, because after seeing the loadings in the J lounge we decided not to add to the overcrowding.

A 180 degree turn and we were headed back into the F lounge for a second ice cream.

When Mrs H sent a text to say she’d secured two additional seats we finally went upstairs to join her.

She was by the window so we were able to watch the action outside.



Including AY operating services for BA.

This A320 came in as BA553 from Rome.



More than 15 minutes before boarding was due to begin, Mrs H advised it was time to “go to gate”.

Miss H and I looked at each other in resignation and set of to stand in a queue.

 

[Captain Halliday]

BA Sauna
As it turned out, our time standing in a queue at the gate was closer to 30 minutes.

This was because the engineers almost outnumbered the passengers.

It seemed like anyone in greater London wearing a fluorescent vest or holding a clipboard had been sent to our aircraft.

I figured being BA’s hub they’d either fix the issue or sub the aircraft.

They did neither.

So when we boarded our flying sauna, the only thing going in our favour was that we were in row one and just a hint of the terminal air conditioning could still be felt.

Our flight to Dublin was under the command of Captain Obvious.

With most passengers on board, he made a PA advising the APU was inoperative and “…you might have noticed the air conditioning is not available.”

In contrast to our previous BA flight, the cabin crew on this sector were terrific.

Every passenger was given a pre-departure beverage.

Just water, but still appreciated in the heat.

As we sweated it out waiting for that elusive “final piece of paperwork”, I made small talk with the CSM.

He said his display panel showed the cabin at 31 degrees.

It was beginning to smell like it too.

Fortunately the delay after boarding was no longer than any other flight and we pushed back about 20mins late.

Once the engines were turning things began to cool down for the passengers.

But that's when they heated up for the crew.

 

[Captain Halliday]

London to Dublin

No sooner had the seatbelt sign been switched off and the crew jumped into action.

With the Euro J layout they had ten rows of “business” class to serve on a flight with a block time of just 70 minutes.

They were frantic but professional.

Unlike our morning flight up from Zurich, I wasn’t assaulted with the forward locker door.

The curtain to the galley stayed out of my meal.

And no butter was dropped on my leg.

When the captain asked the crew to prepare for landing they were still serving row 8.

They picked up the pace as crew from the rear came to help.

Meal trays were gathered with a smile and the crew showed poise down the aisle.

But from 1C I could see that the moment they slipped behind the curtain it was carnage.

Service items were being shoved into any available cart.

As the seat belt sign came on the CSM picked up the interphone: “we need at least another five minutes” he said.

He nodded, hung up, then turned to the other crew and said “we’ve got to 500, if not he’ll go around.”

The race was on.

By now we’d crossed the Irish coast.

We were well below 10,000 feet and seemingly on a long final.

The galley looked like a war zone and trays continued to appear from down the aisle behind me.

How four crew even fit in there, let alone move trays, empty coffee pots, stack glasses in racks was a sight to see.

It was like watching a human game of tetris.

I looked out the window… were now clearly on short final.

The last cart was stowed.

Like some kind of gymnastic routine, the CSM jumped over his colleague into his seat.

He simultaneously grabbed the phone and his seat belt.

“Secure.”

I looked out the window – we’d crossed the airport perimeter fence.

I looked at my watch.

36 seconds later we touched down.

The cabin crew exchanged a glance – relief.

At the gate the captain and CSM spoke briefly.

“How close?” I asked.

“550 feet.” the CSM replied. “He was going around at 200. Plenty of time.”

The door opened and I was hit by the cool Irish air - a stark contrast to the sweltering way our journey began.

“Sauna and a show.” I said to the CSM

He laughed and wished me safe travels.

 

[I love to travel]

London to Dublin

No sooner had the seatbelt sign been switched off and the crew jumped into action.

With the Euro J layout they had ten rows of “business” class to serve on a flight with a block time of just 70 minutes.

They were frantic but professional.

Unlike our morning flight up from Zurich, I wasn’t assaulted with the forward locker door.

The curtain to the galley stayed out of my meal.

And no butter was dropped on my leg.

When the captain asked the crew to prepare for landing they were still serving row 8.

They picked up the pace as crew from the rear came to help.

Meal trays were gathered with a smile and the crew showed poise down the aisle.

But from 1C I could see that the moment they slipped behind the curtain it was carnage.

Service items were being shoved into any available cart.

As the seat belt sign came on the CSM picked up the interphone: “we need at least another five minutes” he said.

He nodded, hung up, then turned to the other crew and said “we’ve got to 500, if not he’ll go around.”

The race was.

By now we’d crossed the Irish coast.

We were well below 10,000 feet and seemingly on a long final.

The galley looked like a war zone and trays continued to appear from down the aisle behind me.

How four crew even fit in there, let alone move trays, empty coffee pots, stack glasses in racks was a sight to see.

It was like watching a human game of tetris.

I looked out the window… were now clearly on short final.

The last cart was stowed.

Like some kind of gymnastic routine, the CSM jumped over his colleague into his seat.

He simultaneously grabbed the phone and his seat belt.

“Secure.”

I looked out the window – we’d crossed the airport perimeter fence.

I looked at my watch.

36 seconds later we touched down.

The cabin crew exchanged a glance – relief.

At the gate the captain and CSM spoke briefly.

“How close?” I asked.

“550 feet.” the CSM replied. “He was going around at 200. Plenty of time.”

The door opened and I was hit by the cool Irish air - a stark contrast to the sweltering way our journey began.

“Sauna and a show.” I said to the CSM

He laughed and wished me safe travels.

View attachment 367873

You have such a terrific writing ability. For the second day in a row you have given me a LOL moment. Thanks for your efforts.

 

[Flyfrequently]

London to Dublin

No sooner had the seatbelt sign been switched off and the crew jumped into action.

With the Euro J layout they had ten rows of “business” class to serve on a flight with a block time of just 70 minutes.

They were frantic but professional.

Unlike our morning flight up from Zurich, I wasn’t assaulted with the forward locker door.

The curtain to the galley stayed out of my meal.

And no butter was dropped on my leg.

When the captain asked the crew to prepare for landing they were still serving row 8.

They picked up the pace as crew from the rear came to help.

Meal trays were gathered with a smile and the crew showed poise down the aisle.

But from 1C I could see that the moment they slipped behind the curtain it was carnage.

Service items were being shoved into any available cart.

As the seat belt sign came on the CSM picked up the interphone: “we need at least another five minutes” he said.

He nodded, hung up, then turned to the other crew and said “we’ve got to 500, if not he’ll go around.”

The race was on.

By now we’d crossed the Irish coast.

We were well below 10,000 feet and seemingly on a long final.

The galley looked like a war zone and trays continued to appear from down the aisle behind me.

How four crew even fit in there, let alone move trays, empty coffee pots, stack glasses in racks was a sight to see.

It was like watching a human game of tetris.

I looked out the window… were now clearly on short final.

The last cart was stowed.

Like some kind of gymnastic routine, the CSM jumped over his colleague into his seat.

He simultaneously grabbed the phone and his seat belt.

“Secure.”

I looked out the window – we’d crossed the airport perimeter fence.

I looked at my watch.

36 seconds later we touched down.

The cabin crew exchanged a glance – relief.

At the gate the captain and CSM spoke briefly.

“How close?” I asked.

“550 feet.” the CSM replied. “He was going around at 200. Plenty of time.”

The door opened and I was hit by the cool Irish air - a stark contrast to the sweltering way our journey began.

“Sauna and a show.” I said to the CSM

He laughed and wished me safe travels.

View attachment 367873

Kudos to that Crew !

 

[Captain Halliday]

Say what you mean and mean what you say

On our previous trip to Ireland we arrived after a long series of flights and I was very tired.

I just wanted to clear Immigration and customs and be on our way.

But as Mrs H will tell you, I’m prone to giving literal answers.

This can be problematic when I'm tired.

When the Immigration officer asked “What brings you to Ireland?”

My response was, “A plane”.

I was confident of my answer, but it was an odd question in an airport, so I looked around just to ensure we hadn’t somehow ended up at a seaport or land border.

Nope.

We were definitely at Dublin airport.

Despite my answer being completely correct, some people, including both the Immigration officer and Mrs H, seemed to think it was wrong.

This was apparently why it to so long to clear immigration.

On this trip I was caffeine fuelled and ready for them.

None of their sneaky Irish ask one question, expect the answer to another nonsense was getting past me.

I approached the counter confidently handing over the passports already opened to the photo pages.

“So, what brings you to Ireland?” asked the official.

A hint of a smile crossed my face.

So predictable.

“A plane." I replied, before adding, "But do you mean why are we visiting Ireland?”

I felt a kick to the back of my left leg and a whack to my right hip.

I also heard a half sigh from Miss H and under her breath “this again”.

The Immigration officer gave an unimpressed look.

“Yes.”

“Oh well in that case we are here to attend a wedding.”

The immigration officer didn’t ask any more questions.

She swiped the passports, stamped them and waved us on our way shaking her head.

Then the questions really started.

Most of them beginning with “Why?”

 

[Captain Halliday]

Loo with a view and a view of the loo #2

Something about the Immigration experience had given my travelling companions the sh…

Er, what I mean is, they they needed to use the loo.

In the terminal, we found the facilities and went our respective ways.

But as I entered the gents, I was suddenly on high alert.

It seemed the Dublin dunny is a place of high crime.

Something sinister enough to require operatives in place of cleaners?



I proceeded with caution.

And scrutinised every person I saw.

First was a man in a dark suit, carrying a newspaper.

He moved swiftly.

Obviously an operative.

At the washbasin stood a guy with long dreadlocks.

Aged in his early 20’s he was carrying a huge backpack.

He avoided eye contact.

The backpack looked too heavy for an operative.

Must be a crook.

I began to consider what possible illegal or nefarious activity might be going on in the loos to warrant this semi-covert operation.

One thing was clear: Dublin Airport management was determined to catch the culprits.

They were making it as easy as possible for their operatives - giving them quick access and good visibility.

So easy they didn’t install doors on the stalls.



There was nowhere to hide.

Even if you’re not a criminal and just need to do your business, there’s still no privacy.

Then it dawned on me.

Maybe the crooks are stealing the Dublin dunny doors!

Jokes aside, surely this a design error or oversight?

If so, why wouldn’t Dublin airport retro fit doors?

It wasn't as if the door was broken.

There were no hinges, no latch.

No signs a door have ever been there at all.

I’ve never seen a public toilet like it.

One thing I will say is that the loos without doors were incredibly clean.

It was almost as if no one was using them.