A Whimsical Flight
My craze to travel abroad had never really died right from
my college days; and finally, when the opportunity came knocking at my door, I
decided to leave no stone upturned. Right from applying for the passport to the
processing and stamping of visa I had been relentless in my pursuit. After all,
it was a dream I had nurtured for so long.
As the wife of H1B VISA-holder I was entitled to travel to
the U.S. to join my husband there. I booked myself on the earliest available
Lufthansa flight to Dallas Fort worth. Due to the festive season, all the
flights were packed to full capacity. So, hoping for a preferred seat by the
aisle or the window was out of question.
Still, I found myself lucky to at least have the confirmed
tickets in my hands. My only concern was the weather turning unfair. The
mercury had dipped tremendously and the whole city lay enveloped in suspended
fog for hours together. Christmas and New Year eve were round the corner.
After an endless wait, finally, the D-day arrived. To avoid
the weekend traffic and keeping the three hour checking time in view, I left
from home exceptionally early. The flight was scheduled at three in the
morning. And promptly at midnight, beating the cold and the zero visibility, I
reached the airport with my bag and baggage. Seeing the long meandering queue
at the ‘immigration check’ counter, I almost fainted. The initial shock was
enough to brace me up both mentally and physically. With cabin baggage
straddled across my left shoulder, and the handbag dangling from my right, I
thought I was doing just fine. I couldn’t stop marvelling at the way I had
handled things single-handedly. Almost an hour was gone and we hadn’t moved
more than just a couple of inches. Passengers in the queue had started feeling
restless.
Though I had been on domestic flights quite a few times, I
had never undergone such a series of conflicting emotions – panic, fear,
excitement, tension, nervousness, confidence – all at once. “What if my visa is
rejected, oh God? In that case they won't give me the boarding pass!” Cynical thoughts just wouldn’t leave me. I mumbled a short prayer and proceeded to the
counter. Except for handing me an Embarkation Form, he didn’t ask me a thing.
Just mechanically stamped my ticket and the boarding pass and shifted his
attention to the next passenger. What an anti-climax it turned out to be!
At the personal security check too, nothing significant
happened, and rather than feeling relieved I started losing my nerve. To my
psychedelic mind, once the panic button was triggered, the worst was bound to
come; it was yet to come!
The boarding had begun and in spite of all my alertness I
found myself waiting almost at the tail end of the
three-hundred-and-fifty-passenger-strong queue. By the time I made it to the
aircraft cabin there were only the middle seats left unoccupied. And the added
misery was that the one that came my way was between two male passengers! The
window seat was occupied by a Chinese while the one sitting by the aisle was a
middle-aged German. I didn't have to wait a moment longer to get to my seat,
for even before my hand reached for the baggage bin to keep my stuff; the
freckle-faced German had already left his seat and was shifting and pushing
baggage, making room to accommodate mine. I politely acknowledged 'thanks' with
a nod of my head and a smile. The formal gesture must have been encouraging
enough for him, as, the next moment I heard his heavy German-accented voice -
"Come, let me take your coat, ma'am". I was totally unprepared for
this social etiquette or else I would have worn something less disconcerting
under that coat. The clinging fabric of my quarter-sleeved T-shirt left no
scope for relaxing, leave alone breathing freely. In a short while it was time
for the nightcap. An attractively equipped trolley was wheeled in by an equally
attractive flight attendant. All heads promptly turned in that direction and
started ordering their preferences of liquor and wine. My mind was as such
worked up with a lot many things going on inside it; the topmost one being --
'ask for a blanket’...’ask for a blanket'...'ask for a blanket'...playing
repeatedly like a tape recorder. And that is precisely what I did, when my turn
came. Both my fellow passengers looked astonishingly amused as they chuckled
mischievously, reclining back on their seats after having ordered Vodka each. I
noticed helplessly that, they had by then, encroached upon a substantial part
of my territory and both my arm-rests were gone! My condition at that moment
was no better than that of a captive; or rather, even worse than that. I rested
both my hands on my lap, stiffly avoiding any contact with their elbows. I
realised very soon that it was sanely not possible to sit through the long
hours of flight in that ridiculous posture. I thought and thought for a long
desperate moment, but was unable to find any viable solution. This whole
situation was driving me insane. "Enough is enough!" I said to
myself. And, much to my own surprise, the next thing just happened on an
impulse. I pressed the buzzer and
ordered for a shot of Tequila. And with that came the announcement- “Passengers
on board are requested to fasten their seat-belts." So, at last there was
something positive happening after all! We were finally going to take off! With
that Tequila shot down my throat, it felt much better. I closed my eyes to
relax myself, somewhat, and also to drink in, every bit of that golden moment.
In order to contain my excitement, I started counting backwards......
Moments later, another announcement came, but I couldn't get
a word of it due to the sudden uproar amid the clicking sound of the seat
belts. All that followed seconds later was, unacceptable, at least to me.
Imagine you are all set to take off and then asked to disembark the plane! Why?
Because of the blessed fog! And you end up as a layover passenger; that too for
an uncertain period, 'until further notice'!
What was going to happen next? No one had any clue, and
there was no one to even tell about the further plan. It was already day-break
and through the window-pane of the airport shuttle I tried to figure out where
we were headed. The drive seemed never-ending. Only when we hit the Ring Road
to Hyatt Regency did I gather my whereabouts. The entire Lufthansa crew along
with the layover passengers was put up in the hotel until further notice. I
rushed to the reception counter anticipating a long queue again, and asked for
my room keys. But I was puzzled when the clerk at the desk handed a sealed
envelope instead. Incidentally, this was for the first time that I was checking
into a Five-Star hotel suite. I sheepishly took the elevator to get to the
fifth floor. The room that I had been allotted was right at the end of the long
corridor. Feeling tired and drowsy I found even my hand bag and coat weighing
heavy on my shoulders. I just wished to drop dead in bed. I eagerly fished for
the keys in that sealed envelope but could only find a card. "What am I to
do with it?" I wondered. And the answer to my question appeared with the
arrival of one of my co-passengers. From the corner of my eyes, half shielding
my face, I saw her insert the card into the slot on the door knob and push open
the door with such casual ease that I almost envied her. Through that clever
imitation technique I had taught myself to 'enter' alright, but what if I got
locked inside and was unable to unlock using the same trick? Logic doesn't
always work, and I was taking no chances there! So, although it might sound
weird but I left the door wide open and even placed a chair against it lest it
should close accidently. Then, I cautiously sat at the edge of the huge cosy
bed and made a phone call to my husband in order to inform him about my delay.
He was in the middle of some important meeting at work, so, did not seem to
register the message good enough. The moment I dropped the phone it rang again.
The receptionist informed of the rescheduled flight. I almost lost my mind when
I heard that it was freaking fourteen hours later! And the worst part was -
there would be no room service provided to layover passengers. We had to
collect our meals from the Hotel restaurant in the basement, only on producing
our boarding passes. And catering to a crowd of three hundred and fifty meant
spending the rest of the day in endless queues with boarding passes in our
hands, like vagabonds standing with their begging bowls!
This was the price I was made to pay for my oh-so-perfect
planning! And to think of it as only the beginning of my ordeal, gave me
shivers! Nevertheless, there was no looking back now, so I looked ahead,
upbeat.
It was two in the morning when we landed at the Frankfurt
airport. The touchdown was somewhat shaky and bumpy enough to jiggle me out of
my listlessness. I was so enormously relieved, I just can’t express in words!
With all sorts of pressures building up all night, my plight was as distressing
as my flight, both mentally and physically. My stomach was distended, my limbs
were cramped and my neck, stiff as hell! Somehow, with great effort I gathered
myself up and with my bags strapped across my right shoulder, I rushed to the
loo of the aircraft cabin. I was so relieved, the sign on the door read -
'VACANT'!
I let my eyes roam the wide expanse of this extremely busy
airport, but could not spot a single 'help desk' or counter of the Lufthansa
crew. My heart sank! I had no agent to guide me. On my boarding pass, the
details to board the connecting flight said - Terminal no. 48. "How do I
get there? Who shall I ask?" I was completely clueless. I couldn't even
make any calls since I needed to buy a calling card and the exchange counter
was yet to open. A tall and hefty guy had been watching me for a long time. Or
was he staring? My old phobia returned. I suddenly became conscious and felt my
fingers tightening their grip around my handbag, drawing it closer,
protectively. From the corner of my eyes I saw him approaching towards me.
"What should I do? Who should I run to?" My mind was completely
blank. With a tattooed arm and pierced eyebrows, the man looked notorious.
"He could be a gangster.... a kidnapper....a rapist....robber..." My
heart had started pounding now, violently. And that gave tempo to the rest of
my body. I charged blindly in the opposite direction towards a kind of alley,
and went on running till I came to the point of almost collapsing. And
collapse, I did, with the sudden reappearance of that man before my eyes,
giving me that 'why did you run away' look. Thankfully, I had landed myself on
a 'sky rail platform' where I could see a few passengers waiting for the
airport shuttles to reach them to their respective terminals. Yet, what was disheartening
was, that they were not of my flight, and there wasn't a single Indian.
I promptly skipped into the next shuttle. Being the only
occupant I was nervous like anything. Except for the local trains of Mumbai, I
had no experience of travelling by these shuttles. I wasn't even comfortable
using the modern hi-tech gadgets that they were equipped with; especially the
door locks of washrooms and elevators. Closing my eyes in a silent prayer,
earnestly, I wished for the company of a lady passenger. The company of a
passenger I got alright, but not of a lady. I found the same fellow seated
opposite me! Cornered and trapped in the compartment with this stranger, all
that I could do now was, make peace.
"Hi. You seem to be on the same flight that I am
travelling by. Are you?
"Yeah hi! You're right. We ARE on the same
flight."
"Lufthansa A-320.
Right?" I confirmed, still suspicious.
"That's right; and my seat is right behind yours."
I fell silent for a moment, feeling rather stupid for
causing myself all that unnecessary anxiety.
As unexpected as it turned out to be later, Davis, was the one who came
to help me with my luggage at the conveyor belt and also at the customs.
When I introduced him to my husband in the parking lot, he
smiled and said,
"Davis is my assistant in office. I sent him to ensure
your safety"
~Manisha Gupta
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