RIC Airport looks like new, but I wouldn’t call a bogus speed trap on its most baffling stretch of road an improvement.
The chic décor inside implies that Richmond is a welcoming, cosmopolitan place – but just get in your car and they’ll fleece you like you’re in Podunk, Nowhere.
My tale started last Friday when a weekend houseguest flew into RIC. Using the free 30 minutes of parking in the hourly lot, I met him in the terminal.
Leaving, we got stuck behind Mr. Pokey-Pants at the checkout gate, who dragged out my visit to exactly 31 minutes. The gatekeeper knew I was there on time, but she charged me $2 for that ONE extra minute anyway.
Petty, annoying, and unnecessary. But little did I know it could get worse. Much worse.
On Monday at noon, I returned to drop my guest off. On the straight, 2-lane stretch entering the airport with no other traffic in sight, I was cruising toward the terminal, trying to read the myriad conflicting, confusing signs that point in every direction and seem to change with every visit.
Suddenly, an unmarked black car pulled up behind me, lights flashing, and I got a ticket for doing 41 mph in a 25 mph “work zone.”
BUT NO WORK WAS BEING DONE.
The officer’s demeanor over my “crime” was so grave, you’d think he’d seen body parts hanging out of my trunk.
The speed limit on that same road leaving the airport is 45 mph.
So 3 ½ decades of clean driving are down the toilet and I now have a court date – that’s my thanks for bringing business to RIC.