Cabin Pressure

Don’t get ideas with that title above. I was referring to the cabin pressure inside my head when I participated this adventure recently for the first time in my life.

I travelled by air. The pressing circumstances made my superior opted for me to travel by air. I was joyous on one hand and a little apprehensive on the other.

For I am scared of heights… what you call Acrophobia. Besides this the recent spate of terrorist attack made everyone act as if they were stepped on toes. I am distinctly uncomfortable in atmosphere that’s charged with premonition.

Not knowing the etiquette of what to carry and what not to carry, I packed a twin track razor in my small bag of toiletries. Half a way towards the airport I called a colleague to debate how meaningless it is to consider that a twin track ready shaver is a threat to humanity. He is more experienced in these matters and flatly told me either to get rid of it or be ridden by airport security.

I sulked and opened the bag to pull out that pretty yellow handled razor. It looked at me sadly while I contemplated its unintended fate of becoming a sacrificial lamb towards the cause of world terrorism. It served me well. Perhaps I shaved with that razor for about 30 times and yet it was as young as Jane Fonda and looks and performance. I have this irreversible propensity to love things that serve me well.

Gosh… I just closed my eyes and hurled that razor in to a gutter.

Then like someone who is completely in compatibility with my about to happen adventure and style in commensuration with what I was about to do… I hailed an auto rickshaw (That’s because in that area known as Ville Parle there are no taxis). And to my utter astonishment no auto was ready to come to Domestic airport. I gaped at this unforeseen reality and could not quite understand what the auto guy said. I was about to reconfirm what I heard but that auto zoomed past as if he did not acknowledge my existence in this world. I called another auto and it’s the same. I wanted to scream to the whole world (Err... I mean whole autos that I am gonna catch a flight that could fetch a million autos in its cost and….goddamn these auto guys have no respect for an aircraft if not for me).

Some sense prevailed and I started walking towards domestic air port in a very interesting twist in the vertical alignment from waist upwards. I mean… my lower body was confident that I am not gonna get any auto and I got to walk.. That was totally agreed by my legs from my thighs and further components downwards and then my torso still was in an illusion that I shall find some means of transportation and hence its twisted sideways to find an empty auto.

I found so many empty autos. And none of them were ready to take me in. I was gritting my teeth despite the fact that one of my teeth with a hidden cave (Cavity) was hurting.

But then suddenly I laughed out loud. Haaaaa…. I reached the vicinity of domestic airport in my ensuing frustration and anger. I would no more entertain any pests and parasites that run autos or taxis.

I straight away went to a machine gunner who was protecting the entry of departures terminals. Looking at my angry face, sweating body and eagerness to reach him he was disturbed for a moment in a professional way. I thought I am dead amongst the hail of bullets that’s liberated by his twitching fingers. Both of us looked at each other the way two over grown desert lizards look at each other. Then I asked him which way to reach Jetlite??? He was relaxed to know that I was not asking which way to fire or which way to lobe grenade. Why must he be tensed? After all… All the entire new generation terrorist look posh and polished unlike me.

I ran inside and the gate X-Ray conveyer guy was kind enough to grab my bag before I ran deep inside and make myself more visible. He scanned and asked me if it was a hand luggage. I said of course (What else it could be you moron??? Am I not carrying it in my hands??? – Later I came to know that there is this classification of hand luggage and cabin luggage). Anyways I carried my luggage on my back the way King Vikram Carried the Demon Behtal…

Then I reached this Jetlite counter where they issued this boarding pass. Looking at me the counter guy suddenly screamed… Zakir Hussein looking side ways at his friend. I turned around to see if that Tabla maestro was somewhere around. When I found none I came to know that he was calling me on that name. I felt proud of unmanageable thick Medusa like curls. His sarcasm or mischief has no effect on me.

He asked me politely if I want a window seat. Of course window seat…what else do I need??? Especially when I wish to see human turning ant look a like when I fly high??? He gave me 14A and I ran in to security check.

Here it was more than what I anticipated. They literally were disrobing everyone in the name of recent terrorist attack in Mumbai. I wondered if at all 007 of British secret services comes here how would he probably manage bypassing our CISF.

Then a few minutes wait in the lobby and again we were shooed in to a waiting bus that hardly travelled at all depositing us at the steps of air craft. I climbed in anticipation assuming that a hoard of yummy looking air hostess would welcome me like an unknown African kingdom prince. Gosh… there were none and I had to find my own seat and when I sat in my seat I realized that the boarding pass guy has booked me exactly near the emergency exit. Now I do not know if I should call this prudence or humiliation. Obviously he must have seen that its written all over my face that I am travelling in air for the first time. But… did he expect that I would open the emergency door and run for life???

And like a true blooded idiot I placed my luggage before my feet in the empty area that’s given as allowance for emergency door. The airhostess came and rewarded my foolishness with a bright 32 teeth solute and asked me to put the luggage on over head rack. I bitten my own tongue but I insisted that I was making room for other travelers luggage. She could have none of that.

Ok… then I was so happy looking out of the Perspex window that was right beside my face. Like a little kid who is so impatient for the movie to start I have been getting irritated about being kept on hold for 90 long minutes to board the plane and then made to sit like… sitting duck in shooting gallery.

Then came thunderous jet engine roar… wow… I wondered if the aircraft is equipped with Pratt & Whitney Engines, or GE turbines or Rolls Royse equipment. I was deliciously chattering my teeth to the vibration of the power. But then I had my own doubts about that kind of intense vibration long before the aircraft take off announcement was made. For some reason I looked sideways discovered the reason for that roar that caused the vibration.

Just a seat ahead of me in my own row, I saw this gentleman… (Grrr… Gentleman) who dropped his chin on his chest and started snoring. I was so pissed off and thought of calling the aircraft pilot to ask him if we could use this humanoid jet engine as an auxiliary turbine in case engine failure takes place. But then I saw a boarding pass jutting out of his breast pocket and grumbled that I could do nothing about that.

Then there came the airhostess who was honestly doing her job of explaining emergency procedures to two women who sat before my row. I was impressed with her diligence in making that activity lucid but could not quite comprehend as to why that airhostess was looking at them the way an intelligent teacher looks at an arrogant rich bratty student over whom she could not scream. I took an initiate to lean a little forward and I discovered that both of these posh ladies must have millions of air miles under their collective asses… for they pulled out two greasy burgers and munching them with no compunction.

That poor airhostess girl came to my row and asked if I wish to know the procedures of safety in aircraft. I smiled at her and told her that I was keenly listening to her when she was explaining those two burger happy Ballerinas (Yikes... Ballerinas??? They must have at least a million burgers tucked tightly within their parts of physiology that’s speak able and unspeakable and thank god… they could lower themselves within those seats with a downward pressurized force to exceed the width tolerance of seat construction. They seem not to be in need of any seatbelt while the aircraft took off).

My answer must have made that airhostess day. She smiled sweetly and told me that she is still willing to explain if I am willing to listen. Of course I would like to listen. I made big cow eyes at her and pointed my ears toward her like a sweet young jackal.

She recited her lesson and later brought me Chaco lets.

All in all… I did not like air travel. because I wish not long journeys to be terminated in short time. When I know that the place I need to reach is a few hundreds of kilometers, I would expect a healthy amount of time waiting for that place to come and greet me as I rest and relax.

I love travelling by bus and train. I prefer to sit beside window and wave my hand to little children who wave back at me with innocent smiles on their faces. They expect no one to wave and most of the time no one waves, but I feel so happy to not a spark of recognition within them when I wave back at them.