Tuesday, January 06, 2015

Mile high with an Indian!

Fatigued I was when I walked up to board the plane.  

As with life itself, when everything goes well, then the experiences are not tiring.  But when it is glitch after glitch, especially when it is not our fault, then life is a drag. A pain. We want to punch somebody in the face to get rid of our frustrations.

No, I did not punch any airline personnel; easy there, dear reader! ;)

In fact, a stranger, after listening to my response to what I was doing in Denver, commented "after all that, you seem to be taking it all well."  I took that as a wonderful compliment.  Whether it is an awful experience when flying or in life, well,  keep calm and carry on, right?

I dragged myself into the plane.  The stewardess wished each one of us as we passed her with a big gap-toothed smile.  There was something different, something familiar about her.  Could she be?  Could it possibly be?  I mean, the answer to this question from a few months ago?

I didn't want to ask her that right away.  For one, I was a tad anxious that the plane might not take off because of some technical glitch and that I will be stranded in Denver for a lot more days.  Also, I thought it would be rude to ask her that as I passed her.

I reached my seat by the window.  I buckled up.  I hoped that I would finally reach home.

The beverage cart rolled by and there she was in the aisle.  She asked the passenger in the aisle seat if he wanted anything to drink.  "Black coffee" he said.

His son was in the middle seat.  Perhaps about nine years old.  "May I have some orange juice, please?" the kid asked so politely.  I was impressed.

Now my turn.

She mumbled something to me.  I thought it was my darn hearing that was playing up when I could not understand what she said.  She repeated that mumble.  And then perhaps seeing my puzzled and confused expression, she asked me in English.  I had not understood her because initially she didn't ask me the question in English!

As she handed me my gin and tonic ... nah, you know by now I don't care for that--it is always a smooth bourbon.  Ok, ok, it was cranapple juice; happy now?  

Anyway, as she handed me the juice, she asked "you are from India, right?"

I nodded a yes.

"Which part?"

"From the southern part. From Chennai."

"Vanakkam" she said with her gap-toothed smile.  "I am from Andhra Pradesh.  Well, my father is from there and I spent some years in Delhi. So, I know a little bit of Telugu and Hindi."

So, I was right after all.  The cosmos finally answered my question.  The cosmos cares about me.  Yay!

She continued down the aisle.  

I was re-energized.


Ramesh said...

Yeah - since you were moaning about the lack of mile high Indians - are you now "satisfied" !!

By the way, when you are next stranded in Denver , please go to the Nuggets game and cheer Ty Lawson and Timofei Mozgov. Both of them are in my fantasy team and need to do well for the next 4 months. Root for them, please.

Sriram Khé said...

A better pun in this context of "mile high" Indians--better than "satisfied"--might be that this had a "happy ending" ... muahahahaha ;)

I will rather be stranded in Denver and walk all the way to Eugene in the bitter snow and cold than to cheer for some stupid sports teams and their overpaid athletes who are a deadweight to society! ;)

Anne in Salem said...

So glad you found your mile high Indian. When I spent the night in the Madrid airport, all I got was a broke Nigerian who wanted to marry my daughter. Three movies on the plane - Jersey Boys, The Hundred Foot Journey and Saving Mr. Banks - salvaged the trip. Very glad to be home.

Sriram Khé said...

I assume you don't have that Nigerian for a son-in-law ;)
Welcome back!

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