Pakistan has left India
Our short visit to this small part of India was about to come to an anxious end. We came back from the Nandi Hills with plenty of time on a Friday afternoon – after a nice visit with Suresh’s family, and the family pet squirrel.
Really, it’s a squirrel named Jenny. She has her own pathways in the form of rulers, branches and strings that are tied willy nilly across different corners of the house so she can run a clear path from the inside to outside. She also disappears up Ramesh’s (Suresh’s brother) pant leg to reappear on his shirt collar. A bit uncomfortable perhaps, but damn cute to watch.
Suresh was going to stay with his family a bit longer, so we spent a bit of time talking about what was done to delay his return flight. Johann and I were quite ready to brave the 7 hour layover at Colombo, Sri Lanka that night.
Ramesh drove us to the airport, after a brief stop to buy some last minute souvenirs. A rainstorm and Friday night slowed the traffic to almost a standstill, such that I could look out the car window at things that caught my attention… a road named “Ravindran Avenue Street”, and a building by the major noisy road that hung a sign “Music School” out its window. Ramesh’s brother finally got us to the airport after taking some superb short cuts through places that I desperately wanted to get out and walk around in, but as with so many things in life, there just wasn’t enough time.
We had 45 minutes to make the flight, a bit of a push but we saw the short queue and thought it was okay. Suresh said goodbye, we ambled our way to the check-in counter.
After a longer than expected wait for the girl in front of us to finish her overweight baggage negotiation with the staff member, it was our turn. It’s alright, we’ve been later before… I stood there drumming my fingers on the counter, letting Johann do most of the talking since he’s just a nicer person than I am. Then I heard “Sir, your reservation is for the 6th of September.”
That was THREE days later!
After vociferous objections along the lines of it couldn’t be, we were issued tickets that clearly said the 3rd, what the HELL was going on, what kind of system do they have, we have to get on board to make our Colombo connection, any number of righteous reasons we could think of to fix this problem.
And of course it was handed off by Mr. Staff Member to Mr. Manager, who went into an invisible office out back to “check on your booking”. Minutes ticked by mercilessly while we saw more people get checked in, and we started to plan in our heads how to explain this to our bosses on Monday.
Mr. Manager came back, and said they could get us to Colombo, but we were on our own to find our way from Colombo to Singapore. We were too relieved to care, so we watched impatiently while Mr. Manager handed the tickets back to Mr. Staff Member who had to consult Miss Staff Member when his computer froze. After several dubious bangs on the keyboard, our boarding passes were issued and we were told to cut the queue on immigration line.
As to be expected, the mustachioed portly gentleman behind me at the immigration line had a few choice comments to say. I pleaded.
But Sir, I’m sorry, our flight takes off in 10 minutes and the Manager suggested I should cut the queue. Please, I’m sorry.
What 10 minutes? Young lady haven’t you heard of India Standard Time? That flight isn’t taking off for another 25 minutes. Get back in queue.
I ignored him, he continued to bluster, and I was up next at the immigration counter. The multiple security checks that occurred next flew by like a blur, and we finally boarded. Sitting down with big sighs of relief, we were catching our breaths to ready ourselves for the next battle at the transit counter of Colombo International Airport.
I pulled out my passport folder, and that was when I realized what Mr. Staff Member, in his frustration and hurry, had printed on my boarding pass.
Oh yes, Pakistan has left India.
Really, it’s a squirrel named Jenny. She has her own pathways in the form of rulers, branches and strings that are tied willy nilly across different corners of the house so she can run a clear path from the inside to outside. She also disappears up Ramesh’s (Suresh’s brother) pant leg to reappear on his shirt collar. A bit uncomfortable perhaps, but damn cute to watch.
Suresh was going to stay with his family a bit longer, so we spent a bit of time talking about what was done to delay his return flight. Johann and I were quite ready to brave the 7 hour layover at Colombo, Sri Lanka that night.
Ramesh drove us to the airport, after a brief stop to buy some last minute souvenirs. A rainstorm and Friday night slowed the traffic to almost a standstill, such that I could look out the car window at things that caught my attention… a road named “Ravindran Avenue Street”, and a building by the major noisy road that hung a sign “Music School” out its window. Ramesh’s brother finally got us to the airport after taking some superb short cuts through places that I desperately wanted to get out and walk around in, but as with so many things in life, there just wasn’t enough time.
We had 45 minutes to make the flight, a bit of a push but we saw the short queue and thought it was okay. Suresh said goodbye, we ambled our way to the check-in counter.
After a longer than expected wait for the girl in front of us to finish her overweight baggage negotiation with the staff member, it was our turn. It’s alright, we’ve been later before… I stood there drumming my fingers on the counter, letting Johann do most of the talking since he’s just a nicer person than I am. Then I heard “Sir, your reservation is for the 6th of September.”
That was THREE days later!
After vociferous objections along the lines of it couldn’t be, we were issued tickets that clearly said the 3rd, what the HELL was going on, what kind of system do they have, we have to get on board to make our Colombo connection, any number of righteous reasons we could think of to fix this problem.
And of course it was handed off by Mr. Staff Member to Mr. Manager, who went into an invisible office out back to “check on your booking”. Minutes ticked by mercilessly while we saw more people get checked in, and we started to plan in our heads how to explain this to our bosses on Monday.
Mr. Manager came back, and said they could get us to Colombo, but we were on our own to find our way from Colombo to Singapore. We were too relieved to care, so we watched impatiently while Mr. Manager handed the tickets back to Mr. Staff Member who had to consult Miss Staff Member when his computer froze. After several dubious bangs on the keyboard, our boarding passes were issued and we were told to cut the queue on immigration line.
As to be expected, the mustachioed portly gentleman behind me at the immigration line had a few choice comments to say. I pleaded.
But Sir, I’m sorry, our flight takes off in 10 minutes and the Manager suggested I should cut the queue. Please, I’m sorry.
What 10 minutes? Young lady haven’t you heard of India Standard Time? That flight isn’t taking off for another 25 minutes. Get back in queue.
I ignored him, he continued to bluster, and I was up next at the immigration counter. The multiple security checks that occurred next flew by like a blur, and we finally boarded. Sitting down with big sighs of relief, we were catching our breaths to ready ourselves for the next battle at the transit counter of Colombo International Airport.
I pulled out my passport folder, and that was when I realized what Mr. Staff Member, in his frustration and hurry, had printed on my boarding pass.
Oh yes, Pakistan has left India.
posted by tygertyger at 11:33 PM
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