In Continuum.

There and Back Again Part I: Wings of Stupidity

For some reason the topic of this entry sounded dreadfully like a chapter from some fantasy novel.But oh well,considering the fact that i can hardly keep my eyes opened and the lack of more appropriate topics(I considered "The India Trip",but that's just too straightforward for my liking),ive decided to forgive myself for the similarity.

Anyway,18th of February,Saturday.A whole bunch of army guys dragged their duffel bag along with themselves to the airport before 7am,what a lovely hour indeed.To me,that was the second worst part of the whole India trip...thing.The fact that i had to wake up early to catch a bloody flight was just...dreadful.But anyway,the moment i pushed the cart loaded with my luggages into the departure hall i was hit by the news that our flight was delayed for a full three hours.That also meant a lot of freetime to kill,as well as some quality sleeping time.

As i mentioned a few entries ago when the blogger side of me got revived,the airport is a great place for photographers,for some reason.That's what my sister claims,anyway.I have found a better use of it,other than the avaliability of coffee and food,there's the abundance of good sleeping spots.Somewhere in the corner of the viewing gallery is where the rows of benches are for you to just sit back and chill,while planes take off before you through the tall window.So there i was,with my back to the seat and eyelids feeling heavy.Point to note,due to the knowledge that i wouldnt be able to surf the net,talk to friends,play the guitar for the next two weeks i stayed up till 3am the previous night,foolishly.

Air Sahara,that was the airline SAF booked the lot of us to fly to India in.Let's face it,none of us has heard of this airline before,needless to say the safety issues of it all.When we first witnessed the size of the plane(Which was really damn bloody small),we were just plain horrified and worried.I decided to munch away on a Subway sandwich before the flight to kill the anxiety while others prefered to play cards and doze away in the holding area.If a Boeing 747 is the Fullerton in the air,then the plane we took was the streetside motel.


Badly tended wing of the plane.

Seriously speaking,people.Have you ever been on a plane,that is so small that you can see from the front of the plane all the way to the back?Worst of all,the aisle is just wide enough for the food cart,which means if you experience extreme bowel movements while they are serving drinks and other beverages you would have to search for a barfbag or just crap in your pants,because the air stewardess would stare at you with doubtful eyes and 'kindly' ask you to return to your seat,until after the drinks are served.The actual serving part,however,takes ages.First of all,you can hardly understand the accent the Indian stewardess were trying to say.Surprise,surprise.You expect the word "Sahara" to be related to the desert,and because of that relate the stewardess to exotic looking Arabic women.But no,they were Indians.It's like calling an airline "Gobi Airline" but the plane is full of Jamaican air stewardess.It's just strange.

I dont have a grudge against Indian women.Because seriously,i have declared my love for Indian women to Jonathan and QinYou after the trip.The truth is,a beautiful Indian woman truly is,astoundingly beautiful.But then again,it sucks to be an Indian woman because as i toured through the streets of New Delhi and Agra i hardly saw any attractive male Indian,from a woman's point of view of course.Just when you think Singapore is short of handsome looking men,think Indian women,ladies.


Crammed up.

Anyway,you would expect before takeoff that the plane would be air-conditioned.But no,it was a burning inferno in the plane and no air-conditioning was anywhere to be found.We were all fanning ourselves with survival guide books and menus,disregarding the little dance routine the stewardess put up along the aisle.It was ridiculous,almost enough to rival the routine Dave Grohl did in the "Learn to Fly" video.

Also,i recieved one of the most stupid question in my flight history.I must say,that i have quite a lot of travelling experience when it comes to flying by the plane,and this is by far the dumbest question ever.So i was sitting in row 12(An interesting point to note,you can never find row 13 on Sahara Airlines because it is deemed unlucky.So the numbers go 10,11,12,14 and so on),and by the time the trolley came to my seat the non-vege meal was out.Yes,out.And here's the little verbal exchange we had.

Stewardess,"Vege or non-vege sir?"
Me,"Non-vege please."
Stewardess,"I'm sorry,but we have run out of non-vege meals."
Me,"Then why was i given an option?"

She,was dumbfounded.And i dont blame myself for making her feel embarrassed.Seriously,that's just plain stupid.Really.I hated the way they are so paranoid about almost every single thing as well.Look,i had a big bag with me and your aisle is narrow.Very,narrow even in my standards.Now,of course it will take some time for people to settle down with their bags on top of their heads and stuff,right?You dont need to walk up and down the aisle,squeezing your asses pass mine just to tell me to put my luggage at the top.Because I KNOW that fact.You dont have to bloody tell me what to do.This is only my millionth time flying,and im pretty sure i have a higher cumulative milage as compared to you,so if you dont mind CALM DOWN and do your job.

We touched down in India shortly before nightfall,and we had to take a bus from the plane to the actual arrival hall at the Delhi airport.We were greeted with a cool breeze blasting through the opened hatch as we walked down the stairs,and thought of how the weather's going to be great for training,yada yada.


Myself and QinYou,just glad that we are alive.


Amos,as optimistic as ever.

Anyway,the airport of India's a total rundown.It doesnt even seem,or feel like an airport at all.If you take away all the planes at the side of the runway you would feel like the airport is some forgotten warehouse in the city.Unlike the busy departure hall,the arrival hall was virtually empty.If not for the SAF guys barging into the airport i dont think the security guys wouldve moved their asses off their chairs and stop munching on a box of chocolate coated donuts.It was just a big ass chaos as we loaded our luggages onto the buses,and braced ourselves to the long bus ride ahead.Approximated travelling time on bus:12 hours.That's a bloody long time,and within that tad bit of excitement there was a twist of fear as well.Perhaps for the unknown,and the great world beyond.


So it begins.THE bus trip,that almost paralyzed me from the waist down.