America’s Forgotten Gateways: Why Airport Approaches Must Become Symbols of Pride, Prosperity, and Growth

America’s Forgotten Gateways: Why Airport Approaches Must Become Symbols of Pride, Prosperity, and Growth

Airports are the front doors of our cities. They are not just transportation hubs—they are stages where nations declare who they are to the world. A gleaming terminal means very little if the moment you step outside, you are greeted with crumbling highways, overgrown medians, boarded-up gas stations, and neighborhoods that make visitors think twice before stopping at a red light. Unfortunately, this is the reality in far too many American cities.

Take St. Louis Lambert International Airport (STL) as an example. Once the proud home of Trans World Airlines and an icon of American aviation, today Lambert greets visitors with a sobering first impression: an aging roadway, medians that feel forgotten, and a corridor along I-70 that does not reflect the cultural pride or aviation legacy of the city it serves. Instead of being welcomed by the Gateway Arch or reminders of Charles Lindbergh and the city’s role in aviation history, travelers first encounter urban decline. That initial impression sets a tone—and it is the wrong one.

I have flown into airports across the United States and around the world. I have experienced the potholed access roads that connect U.S. airports to their downtowns, and I have seen the manicured, culture-rich corridors that greet travelers in Dubai, Kuwait, Shanghai, or Doha. The contrast is not merely cosmetic. Appearance is perception—and perception drives tourism, investment, and economic growth.

The United States is failing to recognize that what surrounds its airports is as important as what lies inside them. Until we elevate our approach to airport beautification, we will continue to send the wrong message about who we are as a nation.

First Impressions: The Power of Place

Every traveler knows the feeling of arrival. After hours on a plane, you step outside to hail a cab, rideshare, or shuttle bus. The first ten miles set the tone for your entire trip. Are the roads smooth or cracked? Are the medians landscaped or choked with weeds? Are there welcoming signs, cultural landmarks, and lighting that communicates safety and pride—or do you see broken billboards and vacant lots?

That first impression lingers. Psychologists have long observed the “primacy effect”—the idea that our first impressions disproportionately shape how we view an entire experience. When a foreign investor or tourist arrives in an American city and the first sight is dilapidated infrastructure and urban blight, it plants a seed of doubt.

This is why the drive from STL into downtown St. Louis matters so much. Before a visitor ever sees the Gateway Arch or hears the crack of a bat at Busch Stadium, they are forming an impression of the city. And right now, too many of those impressions are of neglect rather than pride.

The U.S. Experience: Crumbling Corridors

Too often, the American airport experience goes something like this:

• Los Angeles International (LAX): After passing through a multibillion-dollar terminal, visitors spill onto Century Boulevard. What should be a grand gateway to one of the world’s most dynamic cities instead feels like a congested, chaotic, potholed stretch lined with outdated hotels and fast-food joints.
• LaGuardia Airport (New York): Recently renovated with a $4 billion terminal that rivals any in the world, but drive toward Queens or into Manhattan and you immediately confront bottleneck traffic, graffiti-lined walls, and a sense that the city never thought through the question: “What should visitors feel when they first arrive?”
• Chicago O’Hare: The Kennedy Expressway that funnels millions of travelers downtown is infamous not only for congestion but also for its unwelcoming grayness. Instead of cultural pride, you are met with endless billboards and weather-beaten concrete.
• Detroit Metropolitan (DTW): Detroit has been in the midst of a slow renaissance, but the I-94 corridor that leads travelers into the city is still scarred by decades of economic decline—abandoned factories, shuttered motels, and infrastructure badly in need of repair.
• St. Louis Lambert International (STL): Once a crown jewel of American aviation and the proud home of Trans World Airlines, STL is a sobering example of lost potential. The iconic arched terminal designed by Minoru Yamasaki still whispers of mid-century ambition, but step outside and the reality sets in. The drive down I-70 toward downtown is cluttered with outdated hotels, vacant commercial strips, and medians that often look forgotten. For many visitors, their first impression of St. Louis is not the majestic Gateway Arch but a corridor of urban decline. Instead of being welcomed by landscaping, lighting, and culture that tells the story of St. Louis’s role in aviation and American history, travelers see the scars of disinvestment.

The International Contrast: Putting the Best Foot Forward

Now contrast this with airports abroad:

• Dubai International (DXB): The drive out of DXB is a showcase. Pristine highways, modern skyscrapers, palm-lined medians, and cultural icons project wealth and ambition. Visitors know instantly that Dubai takes itself seriously as a global player.
• Kuwait International: Wide boulevards, immaculate landscaping, and national monuments line the routes into Kuwait City. Even if the city itself has areas of poverty and struggle, you will not see them first.
• Shanghai Pudong International: Visitors are whisked along spotless highways lined with greenery, lit with state-of-the-art lighting, and designed to project modernity.
• Doha Hamad International: Roads are lined with architecture that reflects national identity, blending tradition with modernity. It feels intentional. It feels like pride.

The difference is not that these cities are richer or more capable. Many of them were far behind the United States economically within living memory. The difference is that they view airports as symbols of national identity and economic opportunity.

Why Appearance Matters: The Economics of Perception

Skeptics may dismiss this as cosmetic—“Why spend money on medians and highways when there are bigger problems?” But appearance is not just surface-level. It is directly tied to economic growth:

1. Tourism: A traveler who arrives in St. Louis through a crumbling I-70 corridor is already forming negative associations that no marketing campaign can erase. If their first impression is decay, they may never return.
2. Business and Investment: Investors and executives landing at STL are forming judgments before they even reach the Arch or the convention center. A shabby approach suggests neglect in governance and infrastructure, undermining St. Louis’s ability to attract new corporate operations.
3. Civic Pride: Beautification is not just for outsiders. When St. Louisans see their city’s gateway upgraded—landscaped medians, murals celebrating Lindbergh, or lighting that honors the Arch—it builds pride. That pride translates into stronger communities and higher property values.

The Missed Branding Opportunity

Cities spend millions on branding campaigns, but neglect the most powerful branding tool they already have: the airport corridor.

For St. Louis, this is a glaring missed opportunity. Few American cities have the aviation pedigree STL does: Charles Lindbergh flew mail routes from Lambert; TWA made St. Louis a hub of global travel; the airport itself was once the nation’s busiest. Imagine if that heritage were woven into the very fabric of the I-70 approach:

• Public art installations of classic TWA aircraft.
• Murals of Lindbergh and the Spirit of St. Louis.
• Landscaping designed in the shape of wings, propellers, or even the Gateway Arch.

Instead, visitors encounter vacant hotels and aging strip malls. The story told is not one of innovation and pride, but of decline and neglect.

This is not just an aesthetic problem. It is a failure of economic strategy. The airport corridor is branding in its purest form—and St. Louis is letting it go to waste.

Toward a New Standard: Airport Gateway Districts

It is time to rethink how we approach the space between airports and city centers. Cities like St. Louis could lead the way by designating Airport Gateway Districts: zones where infrastructure, beautification, safety, and culture are coordinated under a unified plan.

For STL, that could mean:

• Infrastructure upgrades on I-70 to smooth the ride and ease congestion.
• Landscaped medians with designs honoring St. Louis’s history in aviation and music.
• Cultural markers that let visitors know instantly they’ve arrived in the Gateway to the West.
• Public-private investment in hotels and businesses along the corridor that complement—not detract from—the city’s brand.

St. Louis has the cultural assets, the aviation history, and the iconic imagery (the Arch) to make its airport gateway one of the most memorable in the country. What it lacks is the will to prioritize it.

Conclusion: STL as a Symbol of America’s Choice

Airports are our modern cathedrals—the places where the world passes through our doors. Yet we have allowed the corridors leading to those cathedrals to crumble. Meanwhile, our competitors abroad are projecting power and pride through theirs.

St. Louis Lambert International is the perfect case study. It embodies America’s aviation heritage, yet today its approach tells the story of decline. Revitalizing STL’s gateway would not just uplift one city—it would serve as a model for how the United States can reclaim pride in its front doors.

The choice is ours. We can continue to treat airport approaches as afterthoughts, or we can embrace them as opportunities to welcome the world, showcase our culture, and invest in our future.

Because in the end, appearance is perception. And perception is power. If St. Louis—and America—wants to remain a global leader, it’s time to start caring about how we look at the front door.