Some people actually walk from nearby stations. This is reserved for minimalists and people who pack like they’re going to a weekend yoga retreat. You’ll see them—fresh-faced, rolling a tiny bag, breathing in that weird jet-fuel aroma. They judge you for your heavy backpack. Let them.
But here’s the universal truth: the final approach to City Airport is always the same. You see the control tower, the Swissport vans, and the faint outline of a plane parked on the tarmac. Your heart skips. You made it. You’re basically a traveler now.
Whether you stumbled off a boat, survived the DLR, or paid a ransom for a taxi, you’re here. And you’ll do it all again on the way back—probably grumbling, eating a sad sandwich, and forgetting why you ever left your couch. That’s the magic, really.
So next time you plan the trip, just remember: focus on the rhythm. The boat ride, the tunnel, the shuttle bus—they’re all part of the same weird dance between your home and the departure gate. And if you see someone struggling with a suitcase on the DLR, just nod knowingly. You’re in the same club now.
