Airport: Impossible

Creation of the mammoth Dallas-Fort Worth Airport, gushed a publicity handout, was "like a combination of The Impossible Dream and Mission: Impossible. " That was last October, just before the world's largest airport (27 sq. mi.) opened for business. From that point on, the complaints have drowned out the publicity, suggesting that Dallas-Fort Worth might be better named Airport:-Impossible.

Located halfway between cities that are Texas' traditional rivals -- and an arduous $14 cab ride from either-- the $700 million airport has been successful only in enraging most of the travelers who use it. They complain bitterly about the outrageous prices and protest that they are "quartered" to death -- charged 25-c- for coffee, local phone calls and even for going from one airline to another. To add indignity to outrage, the quarters often have to be obtained from change machines that return only 95-c- on the dollar. The only free facilities are drinking fountains, and the water pressure is often so low that they are un usable. Worse, the touted technological innovations to move people and handle baggage have turned out to be disastrously ineffective.

The biggest problem is the airport's vaunted Airtrans, a 13-mile computer-controlled system of tracked trams designed to transport passengers around the terminal perimeter. Because the system was apparently oversensitized, the cars grind to a dismaying halt if even a light bulb fails. The trains often skip stations or fail to open doors after stopping, while passengers inside bang on the windows to get out and those waiting to board bang on the glass to get in. Houston Industrialist Howard Purvis says that he was recently trapped aboard Airtrans "for two complete circuits. Finally, I got off close enough to my flight gate to race to it. Barely made it."

The design of the American Airlines terminal, the airport's busiest, was completed before new security regulations went into effect, making it impossible to screen passengers for various flights at one checkpoint. As a result, each loading gate has become a security gate, creating delay and confusion. Baggage-handling problems have been particularly vexing, again because of overcomputerization. Passengers have complained that the system chews up their bags as voraciously as if they were hamburgers, though the operation has been improved. As a result of the snafus at Dallas-Fort Worth, the distance from downtown, and the exorbitant runway fees, Braniff and Texas International have moved part of their operations back to the old Love Field, only five miles from Dallas. Delta also is considering pulling some of its flights out of the giant airport. Southwest Airlines, which never moved from Love (despite lawsuits filed by the city of Dallas in an attempt to force the line to fly from Dallas-Fort Worth), has recorded nearly a 100% increase in passengers and profits.

Indeed, an ever-growing number of Texas businessmen will go to almost any length to avoid the delays and inconvenience of Dallas-Fort Worth. One Dallas businessman even flies from Love to Houston to take a connecting flight from there to Chicago or New York, and points out that this costs him $20 and 40 minutes, only slightly more than the cab ride to the big airport. Gordon Bing, a leading Houston executive, says in un-Texan fashion: "Bigger is just not better. I've been through there once and that was enough--all that delay and confusion between planes. Before Dallas-Fort Worth I thought the worst airport in the country was Kansas City, but now Dallas-Fort Worth has the crown. It's a colossal disaster."

Airport executives, pointing out that Dallas-Fort Worth's remoteness spares area residents the maddening air and noise pollution of most metropolitan airports, are confident that their colossus will eventually function like a clockwork doll. Meanwhile, more and more Texas travelers are turning to Love.

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