When the first officer came last

As the inflight announcement commenced, I looked up in blank space, neutering the rest of my 4 senses, to get my hearing sense in overdrive. I don't know if you've ever noticed, but this is exactly what we all do when we try to use one of our senses at the periphery of its ability -shut the others out.

Anyway, so I was paying full attention to this disinterested captain as he expressed his usual, lack of control over the delay and doled out a drawly apology. Apparently, we were stuck because the first officer for this flight had taken another flight to the city which hadn't landed yet.

I looked at my fellow passenger and shook my head with the cynicism of someone who had travelled enough to see through the pretence of these airlines. My fellow passenger, clearly a novice flyer, smiled back and said - " hello". ( The Indian Traveler's guidebook suggests that you should always treat your fellow passengers with utmost indifference. Acknowledging their presence or giving friendly vibes are markers of the less travelled.)

I unclasped my seatbelt, preparing to make myself comfortable for what seemed like a long wait, when suddenly, I heard the captain say the most unbelievable thing ever said from the cockpit of an Indian aircraft.

" Ladies and Genlemen, you are all welcome to come and have a look at the cockpit" , and then added as a careless afterthought, "Please come one by one".

I looked around in utter disbelief. Silence filled the aircraft as everyone seemed to be playing back the announcement in their heads to be sure that they heard what they heard. I guess we all decided to call it bluff, when suddenly, a rotund Sardarji got up and quietly rolled across the aisle into the cockpit.

Hell broke loose as a mob of crazy travelers stormed towards the cockpit. Leading the crowd was a bunch of wild, screaming kids affected by what I could only surmise as a fit of acute avian hysteria. Somebody made a meek appeal to form a queue.

I saw the pilot squeezing himself out of the cockpit and pulling the door shut behind him, horror written all over his panic struck white face. When you throw an offer like this to a bunch of loud Dilli wallahs you don't ask them to come "one by one", you ask them for mercy.

In the midst of this pandemonium, a bulky 6 feet something dude decided that this was the best opportunity to flirt with the air hostess and offered to help by filling in for the first officer. I think the air hostess did well to decline politely.

Just as it all seemed to be getting beyond control, the eagerly awaited first officer arrived. The captain got some courage in his company and sternly refused any more cockpit tours. A few fellow passengers clapped. I whistled. The air hostess frowned.

Image courtesy : google images

Posted with Blogsy

I just don't get the queue

There's something about queues that upsets me. The idea of being a part of a linear arrangement, in anticipation of a fair opportunity at the end of it, has never really appealed to me. It is easy to ascribe these feelings to my North-Indian origin, where general disregard for order of any kind is instilled in every individual. We, the people from North -India, are quite Darwinian in our approach - if you don't have what it takes to shove your way to an opportunity, you don't deserve it in the first place. Over the years though, I have trained myself to be more civil, but my dislike for queues has only grown stronger.

After some serious introspection , I realized that the reason for my condition is actually a gradual depletion of faith in a favorable outcome of queuing up. Every time I am in a queue, my otherwise optimistic outlook towards life turns despondent. It's not surprising that I can't recall a specific incident to narrate, because all of my queue experiences follow a fairly standard template.

It always starts with the complex decision of which queue to join. That's a stumbling block right at the beginning, because I am not the kind of person who usually decides things. Give me a menu and I would starve myself to unconsciousness before I can make up my mind on what to order. That's probably why I often end up eating food that is liked either by friends or waiters. Unfortunately, you can't expect an honest piece of advice from anyone in a queue. There are no friends in a queue, only opportunity seekers , you are pretty much on your own.

Already under pressure of making the right choice, I get overwhelmed by the scene that awaits me at the queuing area. Hundreds of people segregated in several queues, each of which leads up to an apparent god sitting behind a mysterious glass window or a counter, doling out his blessings in the form of tokens, tickets, or burgers. Each queue promises a reward that lies on the far end and I am supposed to choose the one which would get me to it, the fastest.

This is the point where I take a deep breath, spend a few moments identifying the swiftest and the shortest queue, and zero in on the one I must join. Pregnant with self doubt, I then go ahead and join the shortlisted queue, and soon after, one or all of the following happen:

1. There is a system malfunction at the counter of my queue.

2. Someone up ahead gets into an impossible to resolve squabble which stalls the entire queue.

3. The guy at the counter realizes that there's too much water in his system and decides to take a a really long loo break.

In a few minutes, I realize that I have been duped by destiny, yet again. If my life were a motion picture, this would be the time for it to rain and a really sad, violin solo to play in the background. The rain and the violin solo continue as I spend the next few moments, painfully watching other queues move ahead, while my head shakes in disbelief over the unfairness of God.

The queue, much like life, is full of twists and turns. Just as I start recollecting myself, I see this closed, empty counter , right next to my queue. Some activity behind this counter indicates that it might be about to open, and I see this as an opportunity to redeem myself. I find myself facing a choice scenario again; the stakes being much higher this time. If I choose to pursue this opportunity and it materializes, I would be the envy of all the morons who lacked my foresight, but, if it turns out to be a wrong call, I 'd be devastated , and not to mention, a subject of ridicule by everyone else.

You might consider this choice to be difficult for me, but it really isn't so. As a matter of fact, I am completely aware, that no matter what choice I make, I will end up being on the wrong side of luck. I have empirical evidence to prove that there is absolutely zero probability of my gamble paying off. Every time I have chosen to move, the counter has remained closed, and I have had to start over; while every time I have practiced restraint, and stayed back, I have had to grudgingly witness the celebrations of the lucky dogs mongrels some other offensive word ***** who chose to switch. In effect, there is no escaping the rain and the sad,violin solo.

Usually, by this time, I turn stoic. With all hope and optimism gone, I m reduced into this zombie; moving forward , one step at a time, oblivious and unaffected by the happenings in the queue. I am jolted back to consciousness only when I reach the counter, at which point, one of the following is likely to happen:

1. I realize that they don't accept credit cards , and I don't have cash.

2. They don't have what I want. They also don't have what might be my second choice , or, my third.

3. An unforeseen and, possibly, unheard of event unfolds. (like this one time when the computer at a rail reservation counter burst into flames)

Contrary to what one might expect, my reaction to such a conclusion is not at all dramatic. I usually close my eyes, spread my lips in a Buddha smile, and go back home to write a blog post.

I decided to write on the subject after reading a post on a friend's blog. The rib tickling post paints a wonderful picture of the way we Indians queue up. Go read!

Image Source: google image

A diary entry from the airport

It’s an interesting view from where I am sitting – the 4^th chair in the third row right across the donut shop at Delhi’s international terminal T3. A Sardar ji is gliding across on a segway and there’s a bunch of kids chasing after him. In the last 12 weeks I have made a total of 11 visits to Jharkhand and Bihar - That takes the total count of my flights to 22 - I am a buddy to the security guards at the terminal and the coffee shop serves me my ‘regular’ even before I have asked for it.  Almost all of my flights have been have been with Air India and the air aunties and air uncles - yup, am talking about the in-flight crew – also know me well. While a lot has been written about the hostility offered by the AI crew, I am kinda comfortable with them or let’s just say I have made my peace with them. So it doesn’t really bother me now when the coffee is thrown on my face if am not quick enough to grab it with my hands or the food is shoved into my lap when I have failed to open my tray fast enough. In fact, I am almost apologetic when I have to ask for some water. After all how much patience does it take to hold on to your thirst on a 1.5 hrs flight? It’s definitely not worth giving ol’ aunty the trouble of maneuvering herself across the aisle while avoiding getting stuck in between the seats. Their waistline is clearly not the airline’s business.

What’s even better is that the DNA runs throughout the organization.  Last evening as I was rushing through my office work to prepare for the early morning flight today, I got a call from the AI call centre:

Call centre aunty: Hello..

Me: Hello..

CCA: Sir, I am calling from Air India. I wanted to inform you that your flight IC 409 is ……

Me: Hello… sorry I couldn’t get you.. please come again?

CCA: Sir your flight ……

Me: I am sorry, there’s a lot of disturbance, can you please…

CCA: Click.

Something had happened to my flight. No clue what it was. I should have had the ears to hear what she wanted to say ..after all she had made 2 attempts. I am sure she was a strong contender for the outstanding performer award .

Anyway, I took the logical next step and called the AI helpline – Surprise surprise, there’s a helpline!

Me: Hello, I wanted to find out about the schedule of my flight please

CCA2: Sir, please tell me your flight details

Me: ya.. it’s IC 409.. to Patna

CCA2: www.indianairlines.com

Me: Sorry?

CCA2: Sir, please check at the website. It is for you all only no?

Me: hain?.. well…

CCA2: Click.

I had never felt so small and insignificant in my life. I swallowed my pride and self respect and typed the web address in my browser. The damn site didn’t exist.

Breaking News:

Indira Gandhi International Airport- T3, 10:00 am

The strike at the airport

Three AI employees have been cornered by around a dozen agitated passengers. The flight to Patna which was supposed to take off at 6:45 am hasn’t taken off yet. The gentleman in the front row of the rabble rousers claims to be a ‘Gold member’ or something and is demanding that he be taken to Patna anyhow for it’s a matter of national urgency. A Dubai returned gentleman is enquiring about the technical specifications of the AI aircraft, questioning why it can’t take off in the current weather conditions. Apparently he faced similar problems with AI in Dubai and wants to know if it’s the same aircraft.  In the meantime, one of the passengers has started shouting slogans of – Air India hai hai.. He has taken his seat comfortably on the carpeted floor and is inviting other passengers to join.

I walked up to the elderly AI staff to figure out if other airlines were taking off. He assured me – “Sir, Jet waale jaa rahe hain, magar unse pehle apni flight nikaal dunga. By God.”

Ladies and Gentlemen,this is fantastic stuff. I could spend the whole day here; Patna can wait. The Sardar ji on the segway just passed by again. The bunch of kids is much bigger now. It sure looks like fun to me; guess I would join the chase.

Ciao.

The last bit: It’s 40 past 10 and I have boarded the flight. There is absolute chaos as almost half the passengers are unable to locate their seats .Mr. Dubai is helping everyone out- “ Plij go aage bhai”, “Flight is full, Pilot ji -chaliye bhai”. I can tell the man has a sense of humor or at least he thinks he has one while he advises a fellow passenger looking for a place to put his luggage – “ Anywhere place kar dijiye.. it ij not BUM (bomb) hai na.. hahaha”.

As he turned his laptop on to entertain his newly acquired friends with ‘Munni Badnaam Hui’, one of the air aunties yelled at him to shut it down. Not to be outdone, Mr. Dubai got into an argument with her and asked her to figure out the technical reason behind the rule if she wanted him to turn it off. As aunty left in disgust, he turned to me and said- “ Telling me..! This is all AI problem, In Dubai you can do anything” I smiled and obliged.

The lady seated next to me wants IC’s in-flight magazine. She has been declined since the month’s issue isn’t in.  She then asks for the last month’s issue instead and is given a fitting reply – “Pichle mahine ka abhi tak kyoon nahi padha?, ab nahi hai” .Unbelievable.

Signing off now (before air aunty snatches my laptop and smashes it to pieces)