You know the type: the one who’s bolting through the airport or train station, complaining that there was traffic or public-transport delays, or that they couldn’t find their keys. Meanwhile those of you early-arrival types, sipping your cappuccinos or beers in a café, mulling the shops or magazines in the departure hall, shake your heads and wonder, “Didn’t they leave a buffer?”

Yes, I’m one of those who often forgets the buffer, though I have become better as I’ve matured (cue your sceptical “Have you, though?”). Nonetheless, this column is in defence of us late-arrivers because we have been marginalised of late (and because I haven’t really changed). The most recent example is from London’s King’s Cross train station, where rail authorities, in their infinite wisdom, have resolved to remove trains from their boards a full three to four minutes before departure to avoid people falling over themselves in that last-gasp rush to the platforms.

As someone writing this piece on a German train from Magdeburg to Berlin, which I caught with one minute to spare, I resent King’s Cross for its nanny-state approach – and for its pointlessness. For one, we all have apps that tell us the platform number, so you won’t be able to fool us late-arrivals that easily. And if this is about safety, all you’re doing is shifting when we have to sprint, not if.

Airports are no different: digitalisation has given check-in desks an easy excuse to refuse latecomers. I recently arrived to check in for a flight at Heathrow with 57 minutes to spare and was told by a computer that I was too late. The attendant confirmed that she had no way of overriding the online check-in and got rather annoyed with me for asking. Contrast that with a flight that I successfully made 15 years ago at JFK in New York, with only 35 minutes from arrival to take-off, after I dared the check-in desk lady to let me try. She had no online terminal to override and so accepted my challenge. I made the flight. The system worked – so why change? Efficiency is no excuse. An airline that refuses my check-in is left with an empty seat on the plane and, unless you’re Ryanair, has to politely book you on the next flight. 

There is a point to all this beyond my personal gripes. Ask anyone who cuts these things rather fine and they will espouse the advantages of their habit. Timing your arrival exactly means finishing that one final nagging task; avoiding the drudgery of airport terminals and questionable food service; spending an extra few minutes embracing a friend or loved one who you rarely see before they have to head off again; and swerving the tedium sitting at the arrival gate or being one of those people who lines up instantly when the gate-announcer declares that it’s time to board because you have already been sitting there for 30 minutes. Time can be better spent than waiting at the airport.

“Militant arrival times suck the joy out of travel. If I want to risk a 100-metre dash through the terminal, that’s my choice.”

On a personal note, I have my rights: if I chose to arrive just in time for a train and engage in a dance with destiny, shouldn’t that be allowed? My parents try hard enough to keep raising me into my 40s – do I really need the train attendants to do the same? Granted, this is not a lifestyle choice for everyone but I do speak for a minority of chronic late-arrivers who time their departures to the minute, while the rest of you enjoy a cosy meal and drink in the airport lounge. Yes, we should do better but militant arrival times also detract from the beauty and flexibility of travel. Not everyone wants a flight to take over an entire day of their lives. 

As for me, I’m learning to become the person who actually enjoys a bit of food and shopping at the airport. After my one-minute train scare in Magdeburg, I’m finishing this column with a two-hour buffer at Berlin Brandenburg Airport. This is because I’m tired of the stress – not because anyone told me to be early. On principle, however, I stand firm: I should have the right to fall back into bad habits and prove to myself that I can, in fact, run a terminal-length 100-metre dash. 15 minutes to Terminal D? I’ll make it in 5. Watch me.

It’s not up to King’s Cross to teach me a lesson. If I miss my connection, then I should have only myself to blame.