How we count dwell between the kerb and the pier
Walk-time tables fail when every passenger is melted into one number. A solo traveller with cabin baggage and a family with a double buggy do not share a kerb-to-pier life. We keep separate columns. The family column is slower, stoppier, and the one that predicts the retail pinch on a Saturday.
We start at the kerbside door the airport actually uses, not the one on the architect’s drawing. If coaches dump at a different canopy, that canopy is the start. A marked column on the clipboard is ugly and readable from a wet sleeve, which is the point.
At security we do not time the lane from the public queue head if the supervisor hatch sees a different truth. The hatch sees trays. The public sees tempers. Both belong on the later board; only one belongs in the walk-time table. Immigration, where it exists, is a third clock. Mixing it into security is how a drawing becomes a lie.
The pier end is the airbridge or the coach gate, whichever the passenger will meet. Remote stands make honest walk-times look cruel. We write “coach” on the table rather than padding minutes in silence.