Airport Is a Wimp, With or Without Duke’s Name

What would the Duke say? That’s what I’d like to know.

John Wayne, American hero, Mr. Macho, the ultimate can-do kind of guy, has lent his name to an airport that can’t even keep its light bulbs in running order.

This is front page news. And it is humiliating.

From other airports we hear about potential terrorists slipping past security people, customs agents discovering planes with cocaine insulating materials and even tearful reunions between long-lost twin brothers.

This is real news. Full of pathos. Gritty. Intriguing. The tears and fears of the real world.

What do we hear about in Orange County? Light bulbs.

For the second time in 24 hours, Orange County’s John Wayne Airport shut down last Monday night because the runway lights went out. The flights of hundreds of passengers were either canceled or sent elsewhere to land.

And then right off the bat, the authorities roll their eyes skyward, blaming it on the rain.

“This was a water-related problem,” an airport spokeswoman said in the heat of the moment.

Not that it makes much difference, but the next day the airport manager elaborated. Seems the jet blasts blew off the sandbags that were protecting the electrical line. The line got wet (the water-related problem) and the lights went out.

Well, first off, at 6:45 p.m., the time of the alleged water-related problem, I’ll have you know there was hardly enough moisture in the air to bring out the curl in my perm.

And second off, what about the passengers who had to make their way across the tarmac (thanks to the ever ongoing airport improvement program)? Were airport spokespersons worried about rain then? Noooooo.

And third off, sandbags? How’s that for a comforting thought? Sandbags, the

Seems the jet blasts blew off the sandbags that were protecting the electrical line. The line got wet and the lights went out.

foundation of civil aeronautics in Orange County.

I am very disappointed by all this. I spend a lot of my time explaining to out-of-town friends that Orange County is really a sophisticated place. I mention real estate prices, the malls and a few good Italian restaurants.

I tell these friends that just because we don’t have a real city name (like Los Angeles or New York, for example) doesn’t mean that we are a bunch of yokels who have never seen things like urban crime or subways.

Now, I’ll have to mention the sandbags. And then, Lord knows, the whole airport will be up for grabs.

There will be the baggage claim area, a carbon copy of the one in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, a Central American country whose leaders take umbrage with the term “banana republic.” (Just like the Board of Supervisors does here when similar aspersions are hurled at sophisticated Orange County.)

Come to think of it, it’s hard to come up with a more shameful example of an airport than Orange County’s.

This newspaper actually wrote a glowing feature story about the Long Beach airport, the kind of a place where you expect to see Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman on the tarmac saying goodby through the smog.

And the new United terminal in Chicago! It’s enough to bring tears to my eyes. That New Age people mover, the one with the neon light show and mysterious piped-in music, is an otherworldly experience.

And speaking of other worlds, even the airports of the Third World are more pleasant than John Wayne.

At least there are always plenty of shops selling colorful and overpriced examples of native handicrafts. Between that and taste testing the local rum, that’s enough to hold your attention while your plane is delayed for half a day.

But I expect more from Orange County. We have pretensions. We have money.

Yes, yes, I know that the airport is going to get better. There is an official improvement program, complete with overbids and threats of lawsuits, etc., etc.

But really, I don’t want to hear about it. I want to see it.

If they can ever get those light bulbs to work.