Cleveland (CLE): Still a hub, barely

Hopkins International Airport in Cleveland will have to wait another day for a full exploration, as I just changed planes there (on Monday, Feb. 27, 2012) with little time to spare, and my camera's batteries ran out in the process. But a few thoughts.

The airport, formerly the smallest hub in Continental's network, is now a really small hub within the gigantic United/Continental network. With no international flights (except to Canada and Mexico), and with powerhouse globally connected hubs all around it (Newark, Dulles, O'Hare), it's only a matter of time before Cleveland goes the way of Pittsburgh, I think – no connecting banks of flights, just each carrier with a handful of routes to other hubs.

Spring 2014: Just to update, United has indeed pulled the plug on the Cleveland hub. As of June, the D Concourse will be mothballed, and most of the C gates abandoned as well. I last flew through this hub in February/March 2014, and I'll miss it. So much for not having to connect in Newark.

The place already has that kind of feel to it. Changing planes took me from the C to the D Concourse, and virtually every plane in sight was a regional jet—mostly extra-small Embraer 145 twin jets, or turboprops. I think I saw two “mainline” 737s of United/Continental in the whole airport, fewer than what Southwest had parked at its gates! The passenger counts for United must be abysmal.

And that's odd, because Cleveland was once a major city for the old pre-deregulation United. In the early 1970s, the airline flew DC-10s non-stop to Los Angeles and San Francisco. But United abandoned Cleveland in 1985 in favor of building up a hub at Dulles in Washington D.C., which prompted Continental Airlines (then under Frank Lorenzo) to move in.

Now, all these years later, United and Continental have merged, and Cleveland is back as a United hub—the smallest in the network, not counting Guam. And yes, United once again flies non-stop to the west coast, but now with 737s: two each day to LAX, one to SFO. Other than that, it's mostly regional jets: about 80 percent of UAL's flights out of Hopkins. Some hub! From the look of things when I passed through (the mid-morning lull), you'd be lucky to get a full-sized jet on any leg out of Cleveland.


The C concourse, where we pulled in, seems tired and uninspired, as unwilling to face the week as the few people stumbling through it were. Upon exiting the jet bridge, I found myself in a circular pod with low ceilings, beat-up carpeting, and weird signage that directed me clockwise (the long way around) the pod to get to the D concourse tunnel. With virtually no other gates occupied, the place was deserted except for a trio of security officers, who of course immediately swarmed me when I pulled out my camera.


“Did you get a photo the guitars?” one asked in that slightly-too-helpful tone used when they're checking for nutjobs. She was referring to a display promoting Cleveland's Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. Could have been a tie-in with the canned music I was hearing in the quiet C concourse, but no—that was some kind of hangdog country music tune. In our brief chat, the officer at least provided a helpful suggestion: that I should come back and take photos of the “new terrazzo floor” due to go in.

And about time, I thought. Cleveland is burdened with a lot of carpet in high traffic areas, and much of it looks ready for a trip to the dump: dirty, stained, and in some places sporting waves of wrinkles.


Out in the C Concourse's long corridor, the white linoleum floor was in the process of being pulled up, revealing the original flooring, which looked a lot classier, I thought. Must have been nice to get on one of those DC-10s to LAX back in the day.

I then took the long escalator down to the underground tunnel leading to the D concourse, of much more recent vintage and added when Continental was building its Cleveland hub in the 1990s.




The tunnel is nothing special (especially when compared to United's spectacular walkway in O'Hare's Terminal One), but does sport some “Time Flies” metal artwork in a space otherwise dominated by paid advertising. Unfortunately, the grey metal artwork is barely visible to passengers moving through the mostly grey tunnel. (Here's where the camera's batteries gave out, but I eventually managed to find my spares.)

Strangely, the tunnel is anchored at both ends by odd bulging lighthouse-like structures that remind me of the portals used in older 19th century tunnels, such as Isambard K. Brunel's celebrated pedestrian walkway under the Thames.

Not sure what the reasoning is in Cleveland, but the shafts, topped only by a narrow band of windows around the top, are visually jarring and perhaps a little frightening. What were they thinking?


The good news in Cleveland is that the D concourse shows at least a little imagination and concern for design. Where the C concourse (and the others at Cleveland, from what I can tell) are mostly window-less corridors that do nothing to link travellers to the tarmac and the aircraft on it, the D concourse sports wide open windows with generous views all around. Also, they're tilted forward a bit, which, coupled with an angled ceiling line, creates some nice energy. It's not a big place (just a handful of gates), but it's certainly sporty.


The gate areas play off the overall shape, with doorways tilting in the opposite direction of the windows, providing a satisfying balance.


And between gates, there's room for interesting amenities such as a massage service and three-seat shoeshine stand, unmanned when I passed by.


Here and there, you'll find details that mimic the overall design.


Alas, there's carpeting, and in some places it looks just as tired what's in the C concourse across the tarmac. Replace it or use something different! And one big complaint about the D concourse is that stores and amenities are concentrated in the middle of the structure, blocking views and light from the other side. Maybe there's no easy way around this.


Worse, one restaurant I went in had the windows totally blocked at eye level by over-sized booth seating, as if to say that no one in their right mind would want to be reminded he or she is at an airport. Pity!

I was surprised to see birds flying through the D concourse, but something tells me they're not supposed to be there. Maybe they're looking for all the earthworms. (See "interesting fact" below.) And below is an example of that pesky airline terminal bugaboo, the "window without a view." Why bother?


Interesting fact about Hopkins, courtesy Wikipedia: In September 1972, hundreds of thousands of earthworms crawled onto the airport's longest runway. Four pilots complained that the worms caused poor braking. Heavy rains apparently brought the worms to the surface, creating enough of a safety hazard for the strip to be closed for a half-hour for earthworm removal. Workmen used a motorized broom to sweep the squirming mass away.

Philadelphia Airport: Surprisingly Good

I changed planes at Philadelphia Airport on Saturday, May 7, 2011, and liked what I saw. Nice surprises included vertical windows in some concourses, an absence of blaring TVs in gate areas, a fantastic food court, an interesting on-the-tarmac bus shuttle service, and some wonderful plane-watching spots equipped with rocking chairs. Here's the detail:

Arrived late afternoon on a U.S. Airways regional jet flight from Manchester, N.H. Pulled up to Concourse F, which handles all the airline's commuter flights at this busy U.S. Airways hub. Flew in on a CRJ200, which docked at a jetway leading up to a concourse raised one story above the tarmac.

After disembarking, I was surprised to see the floor of the other side of Concourse F (opposite of where we arrived) to be flush with the tarmac. People were coming off a plane by descending steps and then just walking into the gate area. I have to imagine this was done to handle smaller craft (too small for jetways, anyway) more effectively. Never seen it anywhere else. Unusual, and very smart!

The F concourse, which opened in 2001, was a cut above most new commuter hub complexes. For one thing, the main part of the structure is built on a slight arc, which I think is far superior than the straight “death march” kind of concourse you usually have to settle for. It's less intimidating. Also, the place has high ceilings and larger windows in some gate areas. Alas, the dreaded horizontal window does make an appearance here and there, but it's almost acceptable as a source of variety, I think.

The whole place culminates mid-concourse in a two-story atrium designed to funnel people on and off a system of shuttle buses that carry connecting passengers to the other concourses used by USAirways at Philadelphia: A, B & C. (But they're on the other side of the airport. Who planned this out?) The atrium, decorated with some really unattractive "crazy crap" art hanging from the ceiling, is dominated by video displays listing arrivals and departures, which in turn are surrounded by a huge billboard for Amtrak's Acela Express train service featuring the slogan “You have the right to reduce your carbon footprint.” Whoever came up with that positioning should get a bonus.

The bus loading area was somewhat chaotic. One problem: It's not immediately clear that separate buses head to different concourses, and it's also not clear which buses go where. So you get several harried employees shouting, and things still aren't clear. Well, one thing is: time-pressed connecting passengers do not want to stand in a non-moving line, and they especially don't want to find out it's the wrong one. And once on the bus, the announcements were so distorted as to be unintelligible.

The bus shuttle is a good thing, though, as it gets people out on the tarmac among the taxiways and aircraft, always a good thing that adds to the experience. What's more, our bus ride entailed some unexpected drama. Rounding the end of Concourse E on our marked path, our bus driver came nearly nose to nose with a Southwest Airlines 737 turning into the gate area. We stopped to let it go in front of is (I guess 737s have the right of way), but then it became apparent that the jet wasn't turining to cross in front of us. Rather, it was heading for a gate right at the end of the concourse that we happened to be blocking!

So we had to back up, and the 737 continued its way into the gate, but the starboard winglet passed just above the driver's cab—close enough for him to back up just a bit further to ensure clearance. Meanwhile, our windshield was filled with the landing gear as it rolled past. Nice! In my book, anything that gets people closer to the planes is good, and this was truly up close and personal!

My departing flight (to Chicago O'Hare) was at the C Concourse, which is entirely devoted to U.S. Airways mainline flights. It's pretty cramped, all the more so flights converge, which is what I got to experience. Very little aviation feel walking to my gate; instead, it felt like an undersized shopping mall. It was hard to believe you were in an airport and about the experience the miracle of flight, especially when some of the few spots where windows DID open up onto the tarmac had been colonized by shopping kiosks so we can buy more crap made in China.

But then I reached the far end of the concourse, which dead-ends in a T. There I saw three things that were welcome indeed. First, a wonderfully open waiting area (with banks of vertical windows!) tucked into the gate area of one side of the T. Looking at the TV screens, I saw a “visual page” for a passenger, a service offered to passengers hard of hearing, which was pretty neat. And then, looking out at a U.S. Airways Airbus 320 painted in the retro paintscheme of Allegheny Airlines, one of its predecessor, I noticed that instead of the usual CNN TV blather washing over the waiting passengers, there was classical music! Yes, TV screens were present, but the sound was either off or so quiet I didn't hear it. Instead, I heard Mozart. Big plus!

But that's not all. Heading over to Concourse B, I got to use a nifty moving walkway that by itself is nothing special, but its location is superb: all along the back wall of the terminal that anchors the two concourses. So for a few minutes, connecting passengers are treated to a fantastic view of aircraft, the apron, and the runways beyond. At the halfway point, where the walkway breaks, there's a small area where you can sit in sturdy rocking chairs and watch the action. Inspired!

There's also an inner connecting passage between Concourses B & C that acts like, yes, another shopping mall, but it's rooming and less claustrophobic than the gate concourses themselves. Lots more rocking chairs helps, as does a surprisingly large food court at the half-way point, midway between B & C. Dominated by yet another multi-panel arrival and departures board (crucial for people connecting), the space has a wonderfully dramatic feel to it, and also looks out over the area of the terminal outside the security zone, so it breaks down that barrier and feels a lot more open and airy: good things for an airport to be!

One word on airport food prices. I get torqued at prices that are obviously predatory, and this seems to happen a lot in airports. For example, at my own airport, Manchester-Boston Regional, I was stunned to see an ordinary package of Doritos on sale for $2.39! You could get it for 99 cents at a gas station just off airport property. In Philadelphia, they seem to have this under control. Yes, the same package of Doritos was $1.99 (still way overpriced), but just down the concourse an Express Asian place gave me a big heap of spicy coleslaw for just $4 plus tax. Inexpensive, and healthy to boot. Why can't this be as prevalent as overpriced processed food?

I didn't pass through Concourse A or the airport's relatively new international terminal this time, but I have in the past, and they're pretty good, too. Not sure I understand the long, low rising arc design (the International Terminal at Chicago O'Hare is similar), as the way it hugs the earth seems to be the very antithesis of the magic and excitement of flight. But at least they're trying – and well they should. As a major domestic and international hub for U.S. Airways, and a key destination for other airlines, the place ought to have a terminal complex that bespeeks the city's ambitions. From what I saw, it comes closer than most.