Saturday, September 30, 2006

Getting to India

9/28/06

My morning started out by checking in at the America West ticket counter in Phoenix. There was an announcement on the loud speaker for everyone to take a moment of silence on the behalf of the Southwest Airlines worker that was recently killed in Afghanistan. “Great” I thought. Is this supposed to be some kind of warning sign? But I ignored it and continued my check in, not letting the woman know that I was flying to Afghanistan after Delhi.

When I arrived in New York, I had to figure out how to get to my correct terminal. Riding on the sky train from Terminal 7 to Terminal 4 I was reminded by just how HUGE New York is. And more than anything, I am constantly amazed by how diverse the city is. I mean, there are so many people from so many parts of the world there, it is really frickin’ cool.

Arriving at Terminal 3 I still had to figure out where Air India was among the many choices of airlines. Luckily, I was able to locate it by the bright red turbans I saw in the distance.

Wazhma and I connected and made it on the plane to London. We put out some fires by switching seats so two Indian families could be united on the plane. I’ve never seen so much drama on an airplane as on this flight! The stewardesses were GORGEOUS. We had a stewardess named Rita with caramel skin, Asian like features and a bright red silk sari. A red dot adorned her forehead, while a green dot adorned the forehead of the other (equally beautiful) stewardess. I still haven’t figured out what the different colored dots mean, but I plan on getting to the bottom of this by the end of my trip ;). I wondered if the stewardesses had beauty requirements in order to work on the plane.

Arriving in London, we deplaned and had to go through security again. An anxious Australian couple waited in line behind us, fretting over missing their flight. We finally connected with our dad (who flew from Chicago) and he informed us he almost didn’t make the flight because they had oversold the Indian Air flight. And boy did it look oversold. There were so many people flying on this flight. Probably 1200. On this leg of the flight Wazhma and I were stuck on the back of the plane surrounded by several children, one of which wouldn’t stop screaming the whole way there. My eye mask and ear plugs helped shut out the deafening roar of the engines, the babies, and the gossiping travelers, but it wasn’t enough. Wazhma and I started plotting how we could upgrade to first class on our way back.

We finally made it to the Delhi airport and made our way to the baggage claim. My dad started panicking as we watched the endless number of suitcases pass us by, with his no where to be seen. Luckily, Wazhma’s and my bag arrived but my dad’s didn’t. It’s not a trip to Kabul without my dad’s luggage getting lost!! He ran around in a frenzy trying to arrange for his luggage to be sent to Kabul, all the while cursing the head of the flight agent that checked his bag in.

We were concerned about getting a hotel in Delhi because this is the height of the tourist season in India. Wazhma and I thought we should call some hotels before taking off, but before we could find a phone our dad was out the door looking for a taxi. The air felt balmy and the darkness and quiet were a relief from our long flight with the screaming Indian child.

Our taxi driver was sweet, trying to make small talk with my dad, who was simply not interested at 2 in the morning. We arrived at the Westend Inn and a man in an Indian outfit and red turban opened the door for me and carried my luggage. I felt a wash of guilt come over me—I always feel weird with people waiting on me like they’re my servant or something. Eww!

Much to our dismay our dad haggled with the hotel man for our rooms and we were in bed by 3 am.

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