India bit 3: Why I love flying in that big steel bird

Its 48 hours since we arrived in India. And time for V and I to part ways for the rest of our social outing (see this is why I cannot in good conscience call this a vacation – a vacation is something I drink through a straw while gazing at the blue sea holding said V’s hand). I’m on the Kingfisher flight to Delhi and the women at the check-in counter does not even blink when my two suitcases register 32 kilograms on the weighing scale. I exhale as I collect my boarding pass, luggage stubs and composure and head to the gate.

I board the very red interiors of the plane along with a plane-full of folk who don’t look too happy to be travelling. The general air is of great boredom as if this is a chore that they have to undertake, not just a ride in a giant physics defying metal bird. I, on the other hand, am smiling like an idiot. I like air travel and in two short hours I will be home, under the watchful eye and joyous care of parents and the Nik who make me (even at this ripe old age) feel like a child who needs everything provided for them from food and shopping trips that my heart desires to advice, chatter and gossip that are good for the soul.

My seat is by the window and with no passenger in the middle I have only to contend with the pretty young thing seated in the aisle. The first sign of trouble I know is when she sits down and shows no indication of removing her OTT large sunglasses, even in the darkness of the flight. Then iPod extracted by many ringed fingers, her Gucci handbag is plonked in the seat between us. The IPod is switched on, headphones plugged into her ears and some jarring beat threatening my eardrums even at this distance is causing some sort of swaying/ convulsing movement to her neck. I wonder if I should be alarmed or amused. An airhostess walks by and stops at our row. PYT, removes one earphone thingie and while her music escapes towards me unbidden, one arched eyebrow rises questioningly above her sunglasses in the direction of the airhostess.

Airhostess: Madam, please could you put your bad under the seat in front of you. Or would you like me to place it in the overhead locker for you, just while we take off?
PYT: I’ll put it in front of me thanks. (and proceeds to shove Gucci under the seat in front of her)
Airhostess: Madam, you will have to switch the IPod off till we take off and the Captain announces that it is safe to use electronic items.
PYT (in her most nasal and high-pitched tone coming right out): But why? My husband told me it is OK, and he is an engineer you know!!!!
Airhostess: Be that as it may Madam, the rules are the rules.
PYT: But reeeeaaaaally, he is an engineer, he knows about these things. Nothing will happen to your plane.
Airhostess: Madam, I am afraid I don’t make the rules. Please switch it off immediately or I shall have to confiscate it and ask security to come on board.

And that was the end of whine-y’s IPod listening till we took off. Finally we take off. PYT/ Whine-y puts her Ipod back on, decided to dispense with her sunglasses saying ‘Ouch’ for dramatic effect as she whipped them off her head with the ring laden fingers. Just watching her antic made the two hours go by in a flash.

I love taking flights. Mainly because people are idiots, captured to amuse me.