Lower deck lavatory: A340-600. I have been fortunate to travel in many parts of the world since the age of nine. Although trains remains my favorite mode of ground transportation—especially in Europe where I grew up and during a day’s ride you can see the panoramic landscape transform in front of your eyes—taking an airplane is a must when speedy travel overseas is essential, of course, if you have time, a slower voyage across the Atlantic with the Queen Mary 2 is memorable.
Romantic anticipation of adventure
My first flight was in 1964 when my family relocated from Canada to Europe, however, the flight that I remember most was five years later on a DC-9 (McDonnell Douglas) between Vienna, Austria and Zurich, Switzerland. Because the aircraft I flew in was designed for short-haul routes, the fuselage was narrower and considerably smaller compared with the transatlantic flights of that time (e.g. Boeing 707), or to today’s wide-body aircraft flying intercontinental routes with passenger numbers equaling a village (e.g. over 500 on the A380).
Early commercial air travel, and the piston engines, were rapidly replaced by jet engines, ushering in the eponymous the Jet-Age. This was the new Golden Age of travel. One dressed up for there was an art of travel for this memorable event. Traveling was exceptional in all meanings of the word; not like today when travel has become so every day that travel clothing means wearing sweatpants and the journey is spent complaining about everything from the moment of arrival at the airport to the hours spent in the air!
DC-9 and the rear airstair
What was special to most jetliners at the start of the Jet Age, was that the cabin was accessed through built-in retractable airstairs (with the exception of the DC-9 with an additional integrated staircase in the tail of the aircraft). Entering the cabin through stairs was commonplace in the 1960s as major airports were just introducing direct cabin access from the concourse to the plane through jet bridges.
To embark and disembark from the aircraft passengers had a short walk between the terminal or the satellite waiting rooms. I remember flying into and out of the Geneva airport, admiring the round mid-field extensions that served as lounges, and which were accessed through underground walkways. They seemed so modern and innovative in the 1970s.
The built-in airstairs of the DC-9 were located on both sides at the front of the aircraft with another symmetrically located in the tail of the aircraft, called the ventral stair. Ascending at the rear of the plane seemed for me such a marvel of originality. As I retrospectively better understand the functional strategy of the rear access, I find its design to still be extremely elegant in its integrated approach to the overall end of the fuselage. Upon departure and arrival of the plane, all airstairs would retract seamlessly and fold back to mold into the aerodynamic body of the aircraft.
Stairs, telescoping gangways, or boarding ramps are still common today with smaller airports. However, this is also true in large airports when an aircraft has no available assigned gate, or for security reasons (e.g., the Israeli national El Al carriers are typically are parked at remote area of the airport), or simply because flying with a low-cost airline requires planes to park in a far area of the tarmac. Passengers embark and deplane through mobile stairs and walk briefly to the terminal (think the film “Casablanca”) or are shuttled by bus to a main terminal (Image 3, above).
Interestingly, Washington-Dulles International Airport still uses the lounge/people movers, which stem from a concept proposed by Finish-American architect Eero Saarinen, who designed the iconic Dulles and JFK terminals, which both opened in 1962. The latter terminal, located in New York, now hosts the TWA Hotel. The hotel is an excellent example of contemporary renovation, with the new buildings containing the guestrooms flanking the original terminal now used as the hotel lobby (Image 4, above).
Sitting next to a lavatory
I have flown on many aircraft and experienced my fair share of seating on puddle jumpers traveling up and down the coast of California, as well as on the iconic transcontinental 747 Jumbo Jets, and more recently on the A380. I have often been assigned a seat near the galley, which usually means the lavatory is nearby. (As I write this, I am reminded that genderless bathrooms have existed for decades.)
Before moving on to the new lavatory experience on the A340-600, let me say how painful it is to be seated next to lavatories on a long flight. Anyone can come up with a litany of complaints when occupying such a seat beginning with noise and occasional odors. But for me it can be summarized in the attitude of those waiting to use the lavatory. They often indiscriminately occupy the larger emergency exit space, including far too often when the fasten your seat belt sign is on. I guess many of them have not seen videos of sudden dramatic air turbulence that results passengers who were not strapped in becoming airborne and suffering injuries.
My real pet peeve is seeing passengers standing with a pretend embarrassed smile in front of flight attendants during meal service, often demanding that their personal well-being be accommodated, requiring in-flight personnel to move to a space where the inconsiderate passenger can bypass AND disturb the well-orchestrated workflow of service. Not to mention that this ritual is repeated after the loud noise from the vacuum flush system and occasionally leaving the lavatory door open.
A new lavatory experience
On a recent transatlantic flight to the Baltic States via Frankfurt, I traveled for the first time on a A340-600 operated by Lufthansa. While most airbus aircraft are familiar to me, this plane offered a hurray experience because of the location of the lavatories. Contrary to the typical position of those facilities within the passenger cabin, these were situated on the lower deck; meaning that they were found in the belly of the aircraft where cargo would typically be held, thus often called “Cargo Hold Bathrooms.” My interest ended up not focusing so much on the design of the lavatories—although these seemed slightly more generous than usual—but an appreciation of the overall spatial experience with several lavatories situated around a little foyer below deck.
I was made aware of this airbus A340-600 feature during the safety video prior to our gate departure (Image 2, above). Somewhere in the middle of the information messaging, it was mentioned that “The area outside the lavatories in the lower deck is also equipped with oxygen masks,” and “After putting on the mask, sit on the floor and hold on to the handrail”. This chance remark (as most safety procedures (now branded and entertaining) are similar, thus easily avoided by most passengers) heightened my curiosity.
Experiencing the spatial sequence
Shortly after the first round of cabin service was completed, and lights dimmed to cross the Atlantic, I decided to discover this new lavatory concept. Located on the right-hand side of the aircraft (Image 6, above), the airline had to change the seat configuration of six seats to place a space age entrance to the lower level. Sculptural in form—similar to a clamshell design you could easily find in a Star Trek movie—the staircase features a roof-like canopy jetting from the lower level, which incorporates a Blade Runner lighting system. At the top of the entrance, one finds a swinging saloon gate that protects passengers from falling (Image 8, above).
To access the lower level, the steep staircase leads you to a foyer-like space. As I descended carefully, I was thinking how do mobility impaired passengers descend? I guess they can use the business class facilities. Upon arrival at the lower deck, five lavatories are organized around a central space, which includes a separate entrance for staff quarters that hold bunk beds (Image 10, below).
Contrary to the activity around the typical galley kitchen near the lavatories, this space seemed calm and rather special. At the time of my visit, I encountered a crew member entering the rest area. During my second visit, a couple of people were there, but I didn’t encounter the cluster of confusion typically found near upper deck lavatories.
The lighting illuminating either side of the doors reminded me of those encountered in the corridor during an overnight train ride in a couchette compartment. Each door was lit, thus punctuating the corridor to indicate the door entrances, and also visually to cut the long narrow perspectival space with vertical lighting. (Image 9, right, above)
The lavatory
Manufactured as compact units, airplane lavatories are small and, depending on the airline, snugger than a decade ago. Efficient at best, they provide basic fixtures: toilet, minuscule wash basin, extensive mirror (to expand the space), soap dispenser (I remember the carefully wrapped soaps on Swissair in the early 1970s), toilet paper, hand paper, garbage can, grab bar, and, in some lavatories, a changing table.
Let’s not forget the call button, electrical outlet, smoke detector, and believe it or not, an ashtray. Beyond those amenities and the obvious difficulty moving around within such a pocket-size space, as an architect, I remain curious—in fact fascinated—with how designers calibrate “adequate levels of safety, hygiene, and comfort” given the restrictions (Image 10, above).
While I have never spent time in a capsule hotel room, I could imagine how that similar space requires a clever dense use of program, and much technical ingenuity to calibrate movement, and would have a futuristic atmosphere.
Conclusion
“The distinguishing feature of great beauty is that first it should surprise to an indifferent degree, which, continuing and then augmenting, is finally changed to wonder and admiration.”
Montesquieu, French 17th century author and philosopher
“Art lives from constraints and dies from freedom”
Leonardo Da Vinci
The greatest lesson for me which I wish to impart to students in particular, is that being an architect is to appreciate and observe our environment. There should be nothing that does not attract our eye, especially in today’s climate where much is designed. The bathroom on the A340-600 may seem mundane, but I got a kick out of experiencing the spaces that are typically nasty little closets, regardless of the class you booked your flight on.
Second, I enjoy finding correlations with my own autobiography to draw parallels and conclusions. The lavatories on the A340-600 gave me a feeling of surprise similar to the airstairs that I took almost 40 years ago and upon reflection they have a formal resemblance (Image 2, above).
Finally, as mentioned briefly, I am always attracted to how appropriate design thinking can resolve and calibrate spaces that are small in dimension. It is easy to accommodate functions in a space that is generous and as an architect, there are moments where too much space become a crutch. I have often paraphrased da Vinci’s statement to say that “art is born by constraint and dies by liberty.” Although I have now lived much of my life in the United States, my general attitude towards design finds delight in overlapping functions and negotiating tight spaces.