• Estonian snowboarder with extra abrasions.

• Stubbly-hot chunky commuter in a bad grey suit and a reverse ring-tan.

• "His leg hair says he's an adult, but his clothing says he's 15, probably we should look away now, oh Jesus, is that his mother, or a girlfriend, or what, why does everyone under 26 look like a fetus now?"

• Nervous Indie Chainsmoker (St. Louis-bound).

• Guy whose language you not only don't speak but can't actually figure out what it is, but I mean, who cares, it's not like anybody's at an airport looking for love, except aren't we, really?

• Sporty guy telling long and old "good news/bad news" doctor joke to his friends that's not very funny but at least isn't at all racist, it could be so much worse!

• Traveling dive team in shortie socks. Which one, which one.

• Matt Saracen.

• Weepy-hot: military home on leave.

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Paul: Before we get into the whole New York v. The World debate, shouldn't we talk about which one of the airports that serve New York best represents the city? A lot of people gloss over the fact that we're very lucky to have three airports within easy reach, even if they're all really horrible. We have triple the ability to fly far, far away from the hell gates that are EWR, JFK and LGA.

Alexander: Each of those airports is miserable in its own way. And as with unhappy families, you learn to live with the one that you're stuck with, in this case depending on a combination of location, affinity for airline mileage programs and ability to tolerate the fact that the Delta terminal at Kennedy is infested with pigeons.

That said, the upside of the NYC airport trifecta is that I have multiple options for getting home when things go pear-shaped, weather-wise, out in the great wide world. Then I'm happy to hear those pigeons cooing as I walk through the wafting scent of Cinnabon.

Paul: That Delta terminal is how I imagine the fall of Saigon. Only worse, since you're on a connecting flight to Atlanta, not an Air America chopper to safety.

All three of our airports offer their own exquisite misery, don't they? If we're going to rank them, though, we might as well use the classic tripartite classification system of F/M/K. Which are you killing off, and which best represents New York in the eyes of the world?

Alexander: I have yet to visit a worse airline terminal than the Delta Terminal at JFK. And I've been to Albania.

Here's how I see it: You kill Newark. Sorry, Newark, but you're in New Jersey. You're tangential to my existence, you don't even have New York City taxicabs waiting outside. Despite the presence of a Grand Central Oyster Bar there, there's an insulting quality in flying to Newark. It's even more insulting when there's a delay and you have to WAIT to fly to Newark.

You fuck JFK. It's got a lot of variety, what with all the international airlines. There are all sorts of strange comings and goings, and there are always problems, but for a fling, it's the way to go. Plus the JetBlue terminal is passable, and what's more New York than being stuck on the Van Wyck at three in the morning after a romp abroad?

I say, marry LaGuardia. You know what the problems are, but it’s quiet in the evenings, has a cool mural and is still the easiest to reach, all other things being equal. Ultimately, the approach up the East River, with Manhattan out the left side window, is one of the most beautiful in the world, every time.

Paul: We're completely in agreement about these, which is all the proof I need to declare them the ultimate New York City airport rankings. Also, there's something so wonderfully and anachronistically Jet Set about LaGuardia, with the art deco control tower and the “shuttle flights” and the tiny little terminals. If I'm going to be miserable at the airport, my suffering can at least be attended by a sense of longing for an era that was never as wonderful as we now remember it.

Alexander: I'm shocked! I expected someone to rise to the defense of Newark. It’s an airport safety school, some sort of aviation Brandeis. Perfectly fine, but you know that most of the people there would rather be elsewhere, except for the people who are happy to be there. And you have every right to be suspicious of those folks.

Your Jet Set bubble is lovely, but don't you find that it's burst when you leave New York (as one tends to do when utilizing a New York airport) to find that the rest of the world has ample services, easy rides to the city center and, in some cases, a Krispy Kreme? (Looking at you, Hong Kong.)

Paul: Do not underestimate the easy ride to the airport! While I admire your appreciation of being stuck on the Van Wyck at 3 a.m., there are so many better connections out there, which not only put LaGuardia to shame but also make travelers wonder whether they've moved not just through space but through time.

Reference Copenhagen's Kastrup airport, a facility that's served by commuter rail—with wifi, of course—that can take you from downtown’s Central Station to the check-in kiosks in about 15 minutes. A friend of mine bragged of going from his hotel to his gate, including clearing security, in under 30 minutes. The Danes truly live in the future.

Alexander: Obviously we're not going to win the one seat ride competition. The actual experience of arriving in New York is unpleasant from end to end, whether you're walking through a low-ceilinged corridor to customs, stuck in traffic or, even worse, on the A train. (Yes, yes, the LIRR, I know.) Part of me wonders if this isn't classic, New York-y it's-hard-to-live-here hubris, that our airports are obnoxious because everything else about living here is obnoxious and maybe we like it that way? Whereas, say, Kuala Lumpur's airport is far, far more pleasant than the experience of actually being in Kuala Lumpur.

Paul: An interesting thought, the microcosm of the city in an airport gateway. Singapore's airport, just down the road from KL, is exactly what you'd expect from a micromanaged nanny state. I think you and I would agree that Vancouver's airport is imminently British Columbian. And hello, Frankfurt, you are very efficient and slightly terrifying!

But for every example of an airport being representative of its home state you can work to come up with an example to the contrary. I remember Lima's airport being quite clean and pleasant, two adjectives that have never been applied to Peru's capital.

Alexander: Well, there are certainly airports which are like online dating profiles. Think of Lima's airport as an intense close-up with duckface, hiding the recent divorce and lack of height. You can only control so much, besides, even at the nicest airports. Prague’s is great but there's still nothing to eat but cheese and sausages and beer. Now, I happen to think that is the ideal travel diet—just go ahead and pre-dehydrate yourself, amirite?—but at 8 a.m. it's tough to stomach.

What do other airports in the US and across the globe have that we here in our NYC airports do not? Cleanliness, sure, but that's obviously not a priority to many New Yorkers, at least not the ones within a mile of McSorley's on St. Patrick's Day. Efficiency? That's a thing we like, but I'd argue that oftentimes we do have an efficient system. It's expensive and stupid as hell but against all odds people come to and fro every day. Amenities? Well, in that regard NYC's airports are a lot like McCarran in Las Vegas, whose operating philosophy is, let's make this airport as terrible as possible so you spend more time gambling instead. Good restaurants in the terminal are for places that you want to leave, and our abiding attitude in New York is and always will be: why would you want to leave?

Paul: So you're saying we should be happy with our miserable terminals and terrible ground delays and awful transportation connections because if you can make it here you can make it anywhere? You sound like Chris "Don't Tunnel Me Bro" Christie!

Alexander: Go fuck yourself. LEST YOU FORGET we already gave two shots to the dome of Newark, did we not? Chris Christie. Eating at Newark’s Oyster Bar could be a weight-loss plan for that man, though.

Paul: As much as I love eating oysters, I don't like my fellow passengers scarfing them down right before they board a plane with me. Too risky.

Maybe the best airport, then, is the one that just gets you on the damn plane. No oyster bars, no chair massages, no swimming pools on the roof: Just touch my junk and strap me in.

Alexander Basek and Paul Brady are both on the Internet.

Photo by Songquan Deng, via Shutterstock.

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Sloppy thinking in New York City might tell you that the best way to go long distances is via cab. You don't have to think, you can see the speed you're making and, you know, you feel like a rich lady. But the transit systems of New York have been improving radically over the last ten years (though the improvements can destroy your weekends!) and now? No one agrees on how to get to JFK from North Brooklyn. I asked, people answered, and no one agrees. Taxi! Livery service! LIE! LIRR! The... J train???

Obviously, if price is an issue, the pub transpo is your best option. You can get to JFK, if you play your cards right, for like one subway and one bus fare. Also you might die of boredom. Also you can spend $45 easy (or $450—see helicopter suggestion). And then the problem with cabs is: who knows! Time to airport can be +/- a full hour.

In the middle is the car/train combo (smart!) and the LIRR, which is mildly more expensive than the subway BUT has departure and arrival times, which are ALWAYS exact. It's a great reason to take the LIRR. You never know about the subways. But and then...

This is an opinion I especially value, as it truly smells like a person who knows what she's doing.

I mean, obvs. Also? SEAPLANE.

But here is from Hamilton Nolan: G to Court Square, E to Sutphin Blvd., then Airtrain.

What? This sounds CRAZY. But let us look!

The secret here is the E's total number of stops on that route. VERY FEW. It's almost all straight-up express. He suggests you set aside an hour.

(Also, let us never forget? The Airtrain, God bless it, ain't all that great! You can wait for 15 minutes for one of those! Which seems inexcusable?)

Google Maps also suggests the L to the A to the Airtrain, and the L to the Q03 bus (WHAT).

But then Google Maps also says a cab from Williamsburg to JFK takes 23 minutes. Um, GO BACK TO MOUNTAIN VIEW.

Can you do better? I don't think I can. But I'm doing one of these right now.

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I first met Edward T. Hall III last October at TEDxGotham, one of those independent TED offshoots that spring up around the world. A friend had invited me to attend her presentation on social robotics. Edward—Ted to his friends—distinguished himself from the rest of the speakers by reading a poem on the steps of Cooper Union after the event.

As the poem concluded, he wept openly, tears streaking his cheeks between long locks of hair. There’s a special kind of person who can authentically cry in public, bridging the gap between goony political hack and genuinely heartfelt devotee. Later, I discovered that Ted was the grandson of world-renowned anthropologist Edward T. Hall, Jr. whose obituary reads more like an astronaut’s.

Last month, I was surprised to learn that my pal Ted had made the tabloids and then became news around the world while trying to catch a plane departing New York City's JFK airport for San Francisco using an extremely unconventional approach. The consensus among various news outlets is that Ted, desiring to see a woman named Maya, tried to board a United Airlines flight without an ID, and then, when he was denied, he attempted to crawl through the baggage carousel to gain entry to the tarmac. I chatted with Ted not long after his release from jail.

Zachary Urbina: First, what were you thinking?

Ted Hall: Ha ha! I wanted to spend a little more time with Maya. The universe conspired for this to happen. I decided to buy a ticket at the last minute from one of those ticket kiosks. I didn’t bring my ID to the airport, but they let me buy a ticket. We waited in the security line and when I got to the front of the line, they said they had to find a way to validate my identity.

I was determined to make this flight. I waited while they tried to check my identity but it was very close to the time the flight was scheduled to depart.

At some point, I asked security, “What will happen if I just go past you.” Their response: “You will reap the consequences.” Really, I wasn’t thinking about other people. I realize that especially in New York, I was trespassing on social norms, but I was just thinking about spending more time with this girl. Eventually, I decided to return to the United ticket kiosk to see what they could do for me. In my eyes, I was a customer and they should be able to help me. United. UniTED. There’s so much Ted in my life! At that point I realized I was getting on this flight, or getting arrested. I felt a certain magnetism. I remember thinking, I’ve gotta do it myself. I’ve just gotta try. If I get arrested, so be it. Love can be that strong.

Zachary: At what point did you get on the baggage carousel?

Ted: I was at the ticket kiosk and I half-jokingly told the person at the counter. “Could you zip me up in a bag and send me through?” I saw a bag moving through those floppy plastic dividers. At a certain point they could tell that I was actually rather serious. They said “Well, there’s nothing stopping you...."

I stepped over the scale. I didn’t jump. I walked over to the baggage carousel and climbed onto the conveyor belt. Over my shoulder I heard people yelling, “Sir, sir you can’t go in there.” By the time I got to the plastic dividers, they stopped the conveyor belt, and I had to crawl on my hands and knees. It was like that scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, where Harrison Ford and that Asian kid were on the mine cart. Low ceilings and totally dark in some places. I had to push someone’s bag out of the way. Eventually it opened up into a corridor.

There was a baggage handler who saw me emerge. He looked surprised and said, “What in Scott’s name are you doing?”

The security guys were just doing their job. They took me to the control office. Someone else told me “We’ve never seen anything like this before.”

I waited for the police to show up. I thought that the worst that would happen was people would tell a story about New York City and airplanes that wasn’t terrible. I realize now that I worried my frienda and family.

Eventually I was cuffed and dragged out. The NYPD was very respectful toward me. My experience with the police was ideal. I felt like they were looking out for me. Incredible, awesome people.

One of the officers asked me, “What were you thinking?” It was really more about doing.

Zachary: What can you tell me about your time in jail?

Ted: Jail was an interesting experience. Airport security was flabbergasted. I saw mostly smiles, and a couple of scowls. The police on the other hand, were peeved.

Security and flying are sensitive topics in New York. I most certainly freaked some people out. The police station that they took me to had a 9/11 mural on the wall. I’m sure that some of the officers involved lost friends on 9/11.

A few of the cops were a bit rough, but it was nothing that I wouldn’t understand. I did something so asinine around such a sensitive place.

After they questioned me I was led into a solitary cell. The jail cell was 10x10. I was in there alone and I mostly meditated. The cell was painted all white and had in it a toilet and a bench.

There was a Russian gentleman that I tried to start a conversation with, but he wasn’t having it. There was also a Spanish fellow that was having an asthma attack. I had chronic asthma as a kid and I tried to help.

What I’ve learned is that even if you have good will toward something, people will use it as an opportunity to vent. This was a sobering experience, but I’m not letting go of the passion. I wanted the world to know that I really want to see this girl.

I’m accepting of any punishment they have for me.

Ted was eventually charged with misdemeanor trespassing. Three weeks have now passed since Ted’s initial airport drama-comedy. I caught up with him to get a sense of what perspective he'd achieved regarding his unique adventure.

Zachary: It's been three weeks. Have you since seen the girl?

Ted: I have not seen Maya. Haven’t yet taken the trek to San Francisco. I plan on surprising her in some fashion. We‘ve discussed a Burning Man collaboration. After the wreckage, I don’t know if I still have the freedom to travel as I once did.

Zachary: That brings me to my next question. Are you allowed to fly?

Ted: I don’t know. I suspect that I am. I recently went to JFK to pick up my bags and a few other things. I didn’t get tackled by security or anything like that. Actually, the people at the security office treated me like something of a folk hero: “Wow, it's that guy,” that sort of thing.
I’m still facing possible trespassing charges, but as of now, they’re calling it conditional discharge. I’ve since quit my job at Columbia and lost my apartment.

Zachary: One final question. Are you happy?

Ted: Yeah, very happy.

Conditional discharge in New York State means that if Ted stays out of trouble for a year, he stays out of jail. When he was not actively looking for trouble or trying to spend a little more time with Maya, Ted was previously employed as a research assistant at Columbia University’s Center for Research on Environmental Decisions: his specific discipline, human impatience.

Zachary Urbina's narrative nonfiction has been published consistently since 2006 and his photography has been published in print and on the internet, in both New York City and Los Angeles.

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Previously: Chainsaw on a Stick!

Amy Jean Porter makes drawings of charm and wit. She would totally make some for you, you know.

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