While driving to the Seattle airport before it was even bright and early, so early in fact that is was late as opposed to early, I realized why I like the Denver International Airport (DIA) so much. Unlike other airports comparable to its size and traffic flow, DIA doesn’t bombard you with signs.
There aren’t billboard-size signs every three inches, like the media buy was buy one get eight free. DIA doesn’t panic you. As the signs progress they don’t make you question the one before it. While driving through other airports you think, Oh departures left and arrivals right, but that last sign just said port access left? All the while you are attempting to navigate through and around taxi drivers who are shouting at you for not going faster. Unlike the veteran taxi drivers, I have no idea which signs are telling the truth. They are all just green and white signs. Oh no that last sign was blue. What do the blue signs mean? Wait this road goes to Milwaukee?
No. DIA would never worry the mind. The airport is quite visible from a distance so you just drive toward it. Just one highway with exits. There aren’t unnecessary amounts on and off ramps with tricky turns. You are, after all, trying to figure out how to get to your proper location, not taking drivers test: deluxe edition. If you ever question, Is this the right way, which you won’t all you need to do is drive toward the monstrous mountain-circus tents and reassure yourself, yes indeedy you are getting closer to those whales of the sky.
Now, about the signs. They are enormous and scanable: just find your flight on the list and you’ll know which terminal you need to head toward. They give you this information nine miles before the airport so you need not panic. There are only two choices to make: terminal west (nearer to the mountains) and terminal east. They don’t have useless information on the signs before it becomes imperative that you know the information. No excessive signs saying right lane this left lane that.
Navigating through DIA is as easy as the succumbing to overwhelming urge to knock the shit out of the child who woke me from my airborne slumber on the Orca (I flew Alaska Air) screaming, 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 I declare a thumb war!
photo: me on the orca this morning before being woken up.
i sat in 13B, which is where the little splashes are after the white dot near the eye.