A Frustrating Flying experience

The winter break has just set in and despite my repeated attempts to resist going back to India after every single semester, I sit in a burgundy yellow colored seat of Air India, (insert random number) miles above sea level making my way back to home sweet home.
Speaking of sweet, did you know that Air India's gajar ka halwa smells like Vivel soap and tastes like soggy oats? This is something my taste buds have discovered in the past few distinctly unappetizing minutes aboard this flight. So here I am typing away on my half-charged laptop (that I cannot charge because there isn't an outlet) mainly to give constructive criticism to Air India but mostly to make time go faster. You see I wouldn’t be in this uncomfortable position, twisted at odd angles like Ram Dev baba- bored out of my mind had it not been for certain circumstances created by Air India.
Unfortunately, I don't think Air India can do anything about the baby crying somewhere right behind my head, because, well babies are cute and they have the right to cry. I guess babies don't really like planes or maybe crying is the baby's response to the gajar ka halwa.I don't know for sure. I also don't think Air India can do much about the person sitting behind me jabbing his finger at his screen that makes my head lightly jerk like a chicken, because I have been doing the same thing to the person in front of me as well. I don't blame passenger 34 F for poking the screen in vain because the screens really do take a couple of jabs and hits to start working. Considering Air India represents a country that produces the most number of engineers, you would expect the technology to be on point if not the gajar ka halwa.
Coming back to food, because why not, I was really looking forward to Air India's meal but when the cabin crew slid a plate onto my table the sky became a shade darker and the world felt a bit smaller. I was disappointed, and my hopes sunk to the level of my crammed up feet. I won't go into specific details about the food except point out the fact that I confused the salad for a face pack. Staring at the half-cut tomato in front of me, I was eager to ask the air hostess 'Am I supposed to rub this on my face?' But then I noticed the look of highly annoyed frustration on her face and re-considered.
Having spent six hours waiting at the airport, I had planned out a couple of things I would do. I was prepared for the boredom to come, I had calculated and adjusted my sleep cycle so that I would be insanely sleepy on this flight. But just when I was ready to doze off I woke up to the sound of an air hostess walking down the aisle screaming 'Tea!' and 'Coffee!’ I assume that the tea and coffee were compensation for the food, but I wish the cabin crew would understand the logic of coffee. Coffee does the opposite of putting people to sleep and serving coffee means that their job will be more difficult because then the baby won't be the only one who is hyper and cranky. Me writing this blog is a real-time proof of that. Nevertheless, the entire scene of people walking through the aisles with tea and coffee was reminiscent of a local train with chaiwalas. I have nothing against chaiwalas ;) but I am pretty sure I booked a flight ticket not a train ticket.
Option two was that if I couldn't sleep, I could at least watch a movie- well, the headphones plug needs to work for that. But I guess people who want to adjust can really find alternatives. For example, there is a seventy-something-year-old lady who sits beside me watching Dilwale Dulhania Le Jaenge with English subtitles. Scratch that. She was watching, she's almost asleep on my arm at this point. She also ate the carrots in the salad even though she has about five teeth. I really shouldn't crib if she can get through this 14-hour flight without saying anything. I am going to resort to option 3 for the rest of the journey and read a motivational and mature book (Harry Potter) and then try to sleep (Who am I kidding)

Until inspiration strikes me

Rashi S.  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Culture of being Clean

Dreaming in Dollars