Before landing, I watched from above at Phoenix and the curious rock formations in its vicinity and got for the second time the impression that Phoenix was a big city. That impression was reinforced by the huge airport terminal. It wasn’t due to the number of departures and arrivals – after all you always need just one plane – but the extensive commercial activities taking place on every available spot of the terminal.
On my second visit to Phoenix, I was practically trapped inside the airport for a few hours. I needed to wait for my next flight and leaving the terminal – though possible – would have meant to pass the security checks all over again. In a sudden attack of laziness, I postponed exploring the city for my next visit – I knew it would happen in about a month – and decided to take a look at the terminal. As in most other airports I visited, the Sky Harbor offered few entertainment options. Looking at a screen showing a news network constantly displaying a tiny clock reminding there were still two hours and thirteen minutes until my next flight was not a good way to pass the time.
Despite being one of the busiest airports in the world with more than forty million passengers per year, the Phoenix Sky Harbor had been designed spaciously and the crowds weren’t oppressive. In my visits, there was always enough space to look at the shops across the corridor. The airport featured many services aimed at international passengers, including a surprising amount of money exchangers. In that aspect it was better even than the more important San Francisco International Airport; I visited both airports in tandem several times and had a good opportunity to compare between them.
An inherent advantage to its generous design was that exploring the place and trying to decide in which coffee shop to sit down (it was the first and only time I had troubles deciding where and what to eat while in an American airport) occupied most of the waiting time to the flight; there wasn’t even a well defined restaurants’ area, and exploring them through the dilapidated terminal required the determination of a mountains’ climber. Moreover, the only place where the substantial activity of the airport was evident was at the lines to the food shops; sitting inside them was impossible. I opted for taking the food out to one of the many coaches available for the passengers and for once I appreciated the paper cups (instead of the more solid versions given abroad) used by Starbucks. My second choice for a snack was at Quizno’s, which offered excellent sandwiches at reasonable prices and a free refill for a coffee. The last turned out to be a life-saving feature when my next flight was delayed.