Easy in, Hard out - A local's cautionary tale

Abhimanyu, son of Arjuna, in the Indian epic tale, Mahabharata, dies trying to get out of the Chakravyuh. He is able to infiltrate the circle of battle strategy but cannot get out. Eerie resemblance of his cautionary tale to my travels on my way out of India, where the wheel of my chariot seemed mired in leaking hydraulic fluid.

...so there i was at the calcutta airport, 13 feb [a friday] almost teary eyed and weary from all the food and travel and fun in india, hugs and good byes', when security informed me check-in, even for international flights dont start an hour early in cal...why? oh union people dont come to work so early. tears wiped, mosquito bites, and fresh tea later, i bid adieu again.

smooth sailing to dhaka.

then chaos, as some form of karmic revenge descends on me [for having
scoffed such an important day] as my poor ears ring in hearts and flowers on other phone's ringtones and tv channels at the airport. the flight is delayed by 4 hours, technical problems. if i see one more dancing, swinging girl on tv accepting roses, i will kill myself, but not yet.

4 hours and counting, still no sight of a plane. there is one, but it looks rather old and frumpy, surely they must be joking.

they were.

emergency landing in jeddah, saudi arabia, after 6 and a half hours in the air - for fuelling and checking of parts[wheels, leaking hydraulic fluid] causes much chaos in-flight. kids puking, mom's yelling after kids who arent puking but are running around, spitting. ashthmatic patients losing lungs [literally] and all this in 55 degrees of heat, at one of the world's most beautiful airports --looks like bedoin tents. but it's restricted country, so we are stuck on the runaway and they wont let us off for 2 hours.

by now, sincerely, one of the more calmer people on board, i have placed wet wipes in every exposed body part, including the soles of my feet, and between my fingers. i used up 2 - 30 packs, and am listening to MOBY, before switching to DEEP FOREST.

cannot bring myself to listen to RADIOHEAD [i would've killed myself, what's the point of living if you dying anyway?]. then i chat up the air personnel who have been sent for inspection and cleaning. as usual, total chaos and the captain warns me, if i de-plane, i might as well have run away and joined a harem. so i stand at the edge of the stairs of the plane amidst garbage bags and walkie-talkies, with more wet wipes on my head and survey the arid vastness.

it's still valentines day in this restricted country where a girls ankles cannot be seen in public. cellphones with GSMs ring in tunes, as if prepped on a double doze of prozac, 'happy valentines day'. i have since popped all of the local valiums i might've been carrying.

6 and a half hours to london. this time, we are flying low. iraq, istanbul, swiss alps, madrid, i see it all. its very beautiful and all but the entire plane smells of piss and puke and we are being served breakfast amidst this garden of smells.

sweet irony, oh scottie, beam me up -- as i arrive at heathrow, from my window, i wave tatah to my air canada, taking off. 1235 london time. i was supposed to have been here almost 6 hours ago.

it's valentines at heathrow. hearts every bloody where. ugh. and love, sweet love.

but air canada wont let me on the next plane. they have received no such confirmation of a missed connection. i lose my shit finally. i threaten, i bargain and i pull the 'it doesnt matter if i take the next boat out to toronto, but once i get there, this is getting written about'. immediately, there is a food voucher and a confirmed boarding pass, as opposed to 2 stand bys. my luggage on the right plane but i have to wait in london for another 6 hours.

amongst more heart filled fanfare. this day will never end. oh, did i mention, i spat in all said countries on said day. nothing like a good spit to show your disgust for all things red and heart-like.

am finally on an overbooked air canada at midnight, with a bunch of kids on a ski trip. arriving in toronto, it's 10 minutes away from the end of the bleedin' day. i love the stale salmon in unidentified white sauce and the overcooked spinach.

since

i am back, safe, well, full of food, underpaid, overworked and tipsy on good wine.