travel

Travel

“Take your crutch with you” said my grandson, “then we can go in the handicapped line and don’t have to wait.”

“I can walk,” I protested, “I just need you to carry the lap top bag.”

Finally I agreed and we took the crutch.

“Do you need a wheel chair?” Asked the helpful Emirates staff at the counter.

“Okay,” I said, and sat in a wheelchair with my hand baggage and crutch.

There was an entire wheelchair brigade from Chennai. No one had a crutch, splint, limp or any other obvious handicap except me.

When I mentioned it to my son once I reached the USA, he said, “Yeah it’s a scam. They don’t want to wait in line. The children in the USA encourage it. It makes life more predictable for the relatives. If they are actually in a wheelchair they will reach the gate on time and are less likely to get lost in the airports.”

My wheelchair attendant was actually quite shocked that I really limped and lurched when I walked. “Give me Rs500” he demanded.

“I thought the service was free? I can walk. I don’t need you.” I waved my crutch.

We reached a stalemate.

“Okay, “ he said and we compromised on Rs 100.

(Made me all the more determined to stand erect like a coconut tree as soon as possible, and double my exercise to do so.)

The seat in front was meant to seat three people but had a sole occupant, an elderly lady. She lifted the arm rests and stretched out with a pillow. Periodically she would raise her head over the back of the seat.

“Beta,” she said, reclining luxuriously and looking at my grandson r,”Zera go to pantry and bring me a tea.” Next it was biscuits. Then water.

“Don’t mind it,” she said, “I have a grandson just like you!”

My grandson was speechless.

We had an obese individual next to us attired in jacket monkey cap and a muffler. He sweated profusely for 16 hours and was unable to get in and out of the seat without the arm rest being lifted. (BMI 40?).

Before leaving USA people were being requested to step aside and asked ,”How many $ are you carrying?”

“Nothing ,” said a lady. They found $25000 in her bag.

“Its not mine,” she said.

“Then you won’t mind if we confiscate it,” said the official.

I did not know what happened after that. She was taken to another room.

On our return the hub was Dubai. The notice clearly said “One hand baggage weighing 7 kg.” They were boarding with alphabetic zones. Our country men did not care. They pushed and shoved. They had three to four hand baggages. One man was attempting to carry 21 kg. A couple with a small child in a perambulator had stuffed the bottom and side with things. The child was perched at an angle on the top of this pile.

“What is this?” asked the attender,.

“Food for the child,” said the father smugly.

“Is your child going to eat this much in three hours?”

They added the weight of items purchased in the duty free shops in Dubai airport.

They started removing luggage.

Between the shoving, the arguments , and endless pleading I began to wonder if the flight would ever take off.

Once safely in Chennai, I told my grand son ,”Use the toilet now. The immigration lines are very long.”

In the restroom three ladies were in animated discussion. They had jewelry and currency. They were wearing long sleeved jackets with zippered linings. They stuffed everything inside and walked out nonchalantly. Courier mules perhaps?

No wonder every now and then gold is found in the Chennai airport toilets!

Glad to be back in home sweet home.

http://velloretimes.blogspot.in/