A reporter is trapped in the Orwellian transit wing of a Moscow airport hotel while searching for the NSA leaker.
By IAN PHILLIPS
After a nearly two-hour wait inside the terminal, a bus picks me up — only me — from the transit area. We drive slowly across the tarmac, through a barrier, past electronic gates covered in barbed wire and security cameras.
The main part of the Novotel is out of bounds. My allotted wing feels like a lockup: You are obliged to stay in your room, except for brief walks along the corridor. Three cameras track your movements along the hallway and beam the images back to a multiscreen monitor. It’s comforting to see a sign instructing me that, in case of an emergency, the locks on heavily-fortified doors leading to the elevators will open.
When I try to leave my room, the guard outside springs to his feet. I ask him why room service isn’t responding and if there’s any other way to get food. He growls: “Extension 70!” I rile him by asking about the Wi-Fi, which isn’t working: “Extension 75!” he snarls.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Phillips,” the transit desk employee had said. “We have all your details and information. We will come and get you from your room at 6 p.m. on Friday, one hour before your connecting flight.”
Now it’s midnight, and I’m getting edgy. I feel trapped inside my airless room, whose double windows are tightly sealed. And the room is extortionate: It costs $300 a night, with a surcharge of 50 percent slapped on because I will be staying past noon.
(“Can’t I just wait in the lobby after midday?” I asked the receptionist at check-in. “Of course not,” she retorted. “You have no visa. You will stay until you are picked up.”)
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