On the ground at Hobart International Airport, one couldn't help feeling the title was just a tad grandiose. After all, there aren't too many destinations down this way for the eager traveller to head to apart from New Zealand's South Island and Antarctica.
We weren't too far across the Tarmac when Madam claimed the camera that gets carried on my right hip for a couple of snapshots of something or other, and when I saw where we were headed I grabbed the opportunity to secure proof that the incoming passengers enter the terminal via International Arrivals. The move prompted a stern remark from one of the ground staff.
In hindsight you can appreciate the importance of preventing an international terrorist operation, so The Inquisitive Reader will have to take my word for the International Arrivals bit, though I do have actual proof.
One suspects there are at least two reasons for this little enigma. First and foremost, one suspects there's been some international activity at some point in the past. Possibly something in the way of flights to and from Antarctica with incoming scientific types needing to clear Customs, or the odd scheduled flight in the past linking Hobart and, perhaps, Dunedin.
Anyway, there's an area where Customs can go if needed.
Second, of course, are the quarantine procedures that will protect Tasmania's clean and green status, as evinced by the sniffer dogs one encounters in the area where Customs would be operating.
Third, in the era of screening and scanning, you need to separate the departures from the arrivals, and you need somewhere for the arrivals to come in. Presumably the secure departure area doesn't have the capacity to incorporate arrivals.
Finally, you need somewhere to put the baggage carousel. Madam informs me such a beast didn't exist on her first visit to Hobart, so, on the basis that it had to go somewhere...
Hobart International was probably rather swisho when it opened, possibly somewhere around the time the former Whitsunday Coast terminal went in, though Hobart is on a somewhat larger scale. Still. If you're thinking capital city airports, air bridges and such you're going to be disappointed. While we might once have been right up there with the latest in airport terminal design, nowadays things are just a little down at heel.
We made our way past the sniffer dogs and quarantine bins into the Baggage claim area, where Madam headed off for the regulation visit to the Ladies and Hughesy grabbed a spot with a view of the carousel, which sprang into action long enough to bring the first bag around to where I was standing and then decided it needed a break.
Over there, on the other side, a bag looked suspiciously like Madam's, so I headed round to investigate. The carousel area's not that big, and the passenger numbers were such that my place over there was speedily filled by someone else. I ended up finding a spot that would be in clear view when She emerged, and waited there, cabin baggage and red suitcase piled together, figuring she'd be back before the carousel started up.
When she wasn't, predictably, The Black Monster emerged over there and was just about level with my easily spotted but away from the carousel possie. I kept glancing back and forth as it receded towards the egress and once she had emerged managed a mad scramble just before it passed through the flaps that would mean another circuit and a bit more of a wait.