Travelling
I make a trip to
the USA every year. My son lives in Iowa. That is exactly across the globe on
the other side from Vellore India where I live. (When they do not have daylight saving there is a
12 hour time difference). Every year I undertake (what is literally a pilgrimage
) to see him.
I say nothing. The journey speaks for itself. 3 hours and 40 minutes to Delhi. Then 19
hours to Chicago. Another hour from Chicago to the nearest airport to Iowa, a
place called Cedar Rapids. Not really a holiday. I arrive exhausted, jet
lagged and dirty. By the time I recover
it is time to go home again!
This time I
decided to fly Air India. It was the cheapest by Rs. 20000. No surprises there,
their pilots were on strike. Other airlines actually had begun advertising,
“fly an airline not on strike!”
As soon as we
boarded the flight, the airhostess started the safety lecture, flailing her
arms around as she showed us the emergency exits.
The elderly Indian woman next to me clutched
my arm, “I don’t like it when they do that. I feel afraid. Anyway if we crash
we will all die.”
I decided it was
going to be a very long flight.
The air hostess
continued, “the oxygen masks will drop down from overhead” etc etc .
The gentleman in
front of us (open shirt collar and visible gold chain) unbuckled his seat belt and jumped
up. He started to fiddle with the overhead hatch. The air hostess stopped in
mid sentence and tried to push him down. The purser arrived. Finally they
strapped him back in.
“Don’t get up from
your seat “ announced the hostess later, “we will be serving the meal shortly”.
Immediately three
people (2 women and a man) got up and went to the toilet. The came out after
some time and got jammed up behind the trolley. Great manoeuvres went on while
they tried to get past, as everyone hungrily eyed the unappetising air line
food.
Things could only
get better. Another lady got up and left
the overhead bin door open. A bag fell out, but luckily did not brain the
passenger below.
“We are stopping
in Frankfurt to refuel.” The announcement reduced the lady next to me to
further panic . “I thought it was a direct flight?”
So did I, but with
the on-going Air India strike may be the
pilot had refused to fly the whole distance?
At Frankfurt we were told, “please remain on the aircraft
.” Immediately a tall woman clad in burkha got up and walked out the open plane
door.
“Where is she
going?” asked Ms Panic.
“Perhaps she is
getting off at Frankfurt.” I reasoned.
“No, this is a direct flight to Chicago.”
It was a little
unnerving.
The security
officials boarded the pane. “Everyone please
identify their baggage.”
A brown suitcase
remained an orphan.
The security
official lifted the bag and disappeared through the open door.
“Whose do you
think it is? That lady’s?” asked Ms panic, “do you think she is a terrorist?”
“If she is , don’t
you think she would have chosen a less conspicuous black bag? That brown is so
bright!”
Departure time and
there was panic. The hostess kept asking a Ms Siddiqui to identify
herself. No one moved. Ms panic and I
suspected she was the one who had
offloaded herself. We discussed this softly in Hindi. Finally an hour later we
were ready for departure. Siddiqui and the brown suitcase never reappeared.
Chicago resembled
the hive of a honey bee on a working day. Everybody rapidly conveying
themselves, walking, on rapid transit systems and escalators, purposefully
moving -----.
I found my
terminus and gate and settled down. It was easy to pick out the seasoned
travellers. They kept their eyes down
and fiddled with their gadgets or read books. The large screen television
repeated the news over and over again.
It was a welcome
relief to see Cedar Rapids—except, my luggage was apparently still in Chicago.
Oh well, I always
leave a few clothes in Iowa, they promised to locate and deliver the luggage in
24 hours and tomorrow is another day!
Dr Gita Mathai can be
contacted at gitamathai@yahoo.com
