Airport Encounters

My reader count has shot ominously since the last few days, ever since I started writing about nothing at all, nothing in particular. So its true then, the butterfly chasing, the giving up and then the sitting of the butterfly on thy shoulder story, or maybe I am just that awesome, that very popular but people are realizing it just now.

A few of you might have noticed that, I have begun quite a few posts in a similar way. For those who have- its called blogging license, I can do and write anything I like so just shut up and keep your comments to yourself, and those who didn't-lite lo and read on.

So as the title says, I'm going to relate some of my encounters with the fair sex. But as I am all out of them, just as I was 15 years ago, I'd rather keep it normal and tell you about a couple of funny incidents at airports.

Up until BITS, I had never travelled by plane. Well, actually there was this once when my mom was pregnant with me, but I didn't have much chance to screw up then. Though my 2 year old elder brother more than made up for it, by dropping hot coffee all over the unsuspecting airhostess. 

The first time, was after first year when I travelled by Kingfisher to Goa. I know most of you are smiling, and yes I too was smiling as I boarded the plane. But at the Delhi airport, which was my first look at one, I got into the wrong line and misguided around a dozen people behind me.

I arrived quite early had plenty of time to use the loo. For those who are curious and 'achambit', the best way to see how much money was spent building in a public building is to have a look at the loo, more specifically the urinals. The answer will probably be wafting in the air even before you reach it.

So basically I realized at the last moment, when the guy ahead of me asked how long it would take to reach the Gateway of India after we landed. So I hurried off and was the last in line. We were on schedule, but once I entered I could feel all eyes on me, as though it was a bus that would have left earlier had I not been late. I could hear whispers "yeahi hai woh, saala, jisne late karwaya." The plane had a stopover at Mumbai, and I had half a mind to get down, but somehow managed not to screw up.

The second time, I was again at Delhi airport. This time I had humungous luggage, weighing as much as 3 Kingfisher airhostesses put together. One is allowed 20 kg luggage, excluding hand luggage. When I put my luggage on the machine, it showed 33 kg, and she asked me to pay 900.

900, that's half the cost of the frigging ticket. But she wouldn't budge. I tried a few bargaining tricks, "C'mon ma'm, I am a student. Am going home after a year and a half and besides I don't have any cash." The !@#$% didn't budge, so I had to go back, open up the scanned luggage, and change my main luggage bag to my handbag and vice versa, and get it scanned all over again. It was dreadful, I was in Delhi airport, pulling out pieces of shorts, undergarments, socks and what not, and stuffing them into my so called hand bag.

Now this final "hand bag", looked as though it contained a dead body and I looked like one of those workers at a construction site, carrying around bags of cement. The security guys were all staring at me. One even said, "Bhai sahab, yahaan sirf hand bags allowed hain". Huffing and puffing and out of breath, I dropped my bad with a thud replied, "Yeh mera hand bag hi hai, hand mein hi hai na". 

The fun doesn't stop here. After the half hour wait, when the announcement was of the plane's arrival. I got in line, and the lady security guard stops me, and why? The guy who metal-detects you, and tidies you up later, hadn't stamped my boarding pass. She asked me to repeat the whole fucking process.

I had quarter of a mind, to argue. But the Sherpa lady guard, with a huge bun and a mole under her nose, looked like one of those rakshashis in Ramanand Sagar's Ramayana. So I obediently returned, to behind the metal detector. When I went forward, they asked me to go back and deposit the mobile so it could go through the scanner. Unbelievable! It was as though the bloody X-Ray scanner would scan all contacts, find possible links to the underworld and remove any chances of it being a bomb. 

My worst fear was that, if I sped to anything over a casual walk, chugging along this dead body,  moving against the line, I'd be mistaken for a suicide bomber and shot. Jaane tu ke climax mein saalon ne dikahaya hoga, saale abhi karke dikhao, goli se uda denge.

Now again I was late to board, and again those meaningless stares, "Yehi hai woh, yehi hai". 

Mostly, when you reach your seat, the airhostess helps you put your luggage in the upper compartment. But looking at my luggage, the bag of cement, she didn't even bother. So I somehow pulled it to the top, punched it gently a few times, after all kidney wagairah bachani thi na bechne ke liye. Finally reached, safe, sound and bruised.

In continuation

You know what? I just realised that blogging is difficult, seriously. I mean, if you're just another blogger its okay. But with a blog as popular as mine, as seen from the VIZCOUNT thingy to the right, (the code gives the count in multiples of 10*) the expectations rise and you're under so much pressure to improve, and blog better. Whew! But you guys are lucky ki main bhaav nahin khaata, and I love all my fans.

Alright, so the trip. The trip to the Goa Campus was not very eventful. Except for the fact that I was expecting a little family get-together typish lunch, but I was met with a cluster of over 50 Goa BITSians, (our brothers from another mother (winners of the OASIS championship)), some of whom when told by Raman sir that Mr. Arjun Kamath is coming, thought that I was some balding, wrinkling, stripe shirted Physics professor, and greeted me with a confused look "Where is you father, Mr. Arjun Kamath", totally confused when I explained to them that I was a Goan Board topper, from Pilani campus, currently studying there, ex-Gen Sec, not in PS-2 (this one took a while), coming home for Diwali without telling my parents, who met their Director at the airport and was invited for lunch. I wonder why all this was difficult to digest?

There wasn't much that happenned the rest of the time. You see, my friends there aren't like us. They study and do reports two days before the deadline. A shame, that they still haven't learnt to manage their time.

So for the last day, decided to get a tattoo, just for fun. Only one guy, Rohan, a dear friend from 5th std, came along. We shared the enthu of getting our skins embellished by a symbol, as a statement of our sentient humanness, to shout out to the world that we will not conform to the arbitrary rules of an intolerant society, that we are different, we don't care about what we look like, and are happy and satisfied just as God has made us. Simply put to look(rather to feel like we looked) cool!Its a chinese symbol, that means "The Ultimate" or "The highest point". Its on my right shoulder blade, I mean the muscle covering it. :)

So that basically covers the Goa trip. Overall very very enjoyable, great memories. There was this one incident that happenned on the flight back to Delhi, that is more memorable because of the where it was done rather than that what. It gave me a great sense of accomplishment, my wingies too gave me a pat on the back. But because of the wider audience of the blog, it would be inappropriate to reveal it here. So just be happy for me.

So long and thanks again. I love all you fans.

*HAHA, joking. Actually its multiples of 9

PS: A note to bloggers using ScribeFire to blog on Mozilla. It's good,but beware, save regularly. I had to write this post twice.