Travel Travails

I am a seasoned traveller. That means I have travelled in all seasons. I am also a weathered traveller. That doesn't mean I travel in all weathers but rather that I am rusted and totally beat. And there's a sound reason for that.

On most occassions, the normal man flags down the ubiquitous autorickshaw, climbs in and zooms off directly to his prefered destination while in the Big Bad City. Snaking through trecherous terrain and serpentine rows of honking vehicles stuck in traffic jams while the merciless rain drums down relentlessly is quite the normal affair for the Common Man.

Unfortunately, as I have pointed out in my earlier compositions, whenever anything is applied in my context, it ceases to be normal or common anymore. The laws of physics hold good only so far. In case you were ever wondering where your hard earned tax money vanishes, then you'd be extremely gratified to know that over half of it is employed in funding reasearch of the Me phenomenon. No wonder our nation is forever in need of accomplished scientists.

Anyway, life throws quite interesting "common" problems my way. One of God's favourite ones is providing me with sufficient adventure and excitement while I am trying to reach the darn airport on time. His Chief of Staff has decided that my dull dreary life needs to be enlivened and the only time it is appropriate to do so is when I am in a mad dash to reach the airport in time for my flight.

So today, Mr. Chief of Staff (hereby refered to as CoS for brevity but mostly because I am too lazy to type such a long phrase again and again) decided to personally help me get to the airport.
Dad was out on the road waiting for our ubiquitous rickshaw to arrive. There was no sign of any. Of course when you don't want them, they keep getting in your way like an overgrown belly and often you have to walk around with a huge red-and-white signboard screaming "I do NOT want any autorickshaw".

After about ten whole minutes of frustrated waiting, we had to pick up my bags (which weighed about a ton with all the goodies mom makes for me - the 'overgrown belly' reference isn't entirely without a history of its own mind you) and start walking towards the main road in the hopes of getting one rick. We found one rather quickly after that and before the driver could change his mind, we parked ourselves with authority and got ready to be whisked away.

However, the minute the rickshaw turned the corner, one of its tyres got punctured. Muttering unprintable expletives under my breath ('coz my Dad was right there so I couldn't say them out aloud. We Indians pride oursleves on our culture) I clambered out and immediately started looking for another one.

The CoS was getting warmed up so there were no other rickshaws in sight. When dad finally managed to flag a couple, they refused to go to the airport and scooted off faster than the Roadrunner. Finally, after much flagging and other antics whose details I shall spare you, we got one that agreed to take us to the airport. As luck would have it (rather as the CoS would have it), the minute we settled in, the back panel popped loose and the driver started expending all his energy in fixing it up. This rickshaw wasn't going anywhere either.

We extricated ourselves from the interior and started our flagging business again (my arms have quite toned up I observed). I have a notion the CoS was getting bored with this routine so he sent us a rickshaw to get us to the airport and we were finally on our way.
He sent some other distractions for variety instead.

Remember the serpentine rows of honking vehicles stuck in a traffic jam referenced above? Yeah, every line here has a history as you may have noticed by now. So, our rickshaw was stuck somewhere in this serpentine row of honking vehicles in the traffic jam and was contributing in some measure of its own, to the decibel levels by effective and well-paced honking.

I got a wee bit uneasy and decided to call up the airlines to explain my predicament and see if they could let me tele check-in. They politely told me to piss off.

CoS must have been enjoying himself.

I figured there was no need to get upset and worst case I'd miss the flight and end up getting more vacation than I had bargained for. I immediately brightened at that thought and grinned to myself. Now that I was looking at things in the right perspective, I was beginning to positively beam at the traffic, the rain and the local cat. Just when I was about to offer a friendly advice to the driver to turn back and head for home instead, all traffic vanished in a puff of smoke (pun unintended) and we reached the airport in no time flat.

Cursing CoS for spoiling my plans again, I quickly hopped off and rushed to the terminal to catch that blasted flight. I was the last person to arrive before the gates were closed.

Fly away yonder

Once upon a time, people looked aghast when someone offered the idea of flying to their destination instead of using cheaper alternatives like the bus or the ubiqutous train.

Today, its exactly opposite. Not only does your uncle, sis, cousin, friend, friend's friend travel in an aeroplane, but so does the paan-waala, chai-waala and doodh-waala.

Thanks to the wonders of modern science, a booming economy and a flood of bold innovative entrepreneurs, flying away is no longer a dream. Its affordable to one and all.

And there, ladies and gentlemen, begins the problem, the nightmare. Though there has been an exponential increase in the number of airlines and aircrafts, the poor little airport remains the same - poor and little. Right from the entrance of the airport to the plane, you are walking in a sea of people. The asphyxiated airport can barely sustain the burgeoning populace.

Fat people, thin people, rich people, poor people (yes, them too!), nice people, bad people, pickpockets, chain-snatchers, rock stars, fashion models, businessmen, foreigners, the neighbourhood cricket team - all can be seen rubbing shoulders with each other - literally!!

I was sitting in a corner of an especially packed departure hall, looking more like furniture than a person (the slightest movement resulted in my elbow poking into the eye of an enormous Punjabi woman who looked too dangerous to mess with), counting the minutes to my flight. As usual, the flight was delayed, this time by one hour. I looked around watching people, trying to get rid of my boredom. As the minutes ticked by, so did my patience and I found it very difficult to sit quietly. Finally, the boarding announcement came and I rushed for the gate, swallowed by the wave of humanity.

I looked around for the vehicle that transports passengers from the building to the aircraft. A public transport bus came and stopped right in front of me. I blinked. Talk about low-cost!
We were crammed into it and taken for a ride (pun unintended) to the plane. We had to stop about five times on the way to let the other aircrafts take off (yeah, looked like all planes were parked along the runway, some even on it).

The rest was relatively smooth. We were bundled into the aeroplane and whisked off to the destination.

My supposedly "fast" journey from Bangalore to Mumbai had taken 6 hours. My friend, meanwhile, opting to travel by train, reached a few hours later, refreshed and rejuvenated by the luxurious journey but bored to death due to lack of people to talk to.