Seven days seven flights

Flying from south east Asia to the far west America through Europe has always fascinated me and at the same time driven me crazy at times. This post captures some of those moments during my recent travel. A perfect blend of horror and nightmare.

I was scheduled to travel around the globe for two weeks when hurricane Sandy hit the eastern coast of the United States. Not having much information on weather, I started for the airport in Bangalore. Upon checking in, I enquired whether connecting flights from Europe and Washington are on time. About the same time, I received the text message on possible cancellations of both connecting flights. Having no other options left, I had a subway sandwich at the airport and returned home. That was by far the most expensive sandwich I have ever had. One consoling reason for having been to the airport.

Rescheduled the flights for next week. Now I have to cover both USA and Germany in a week. Totally seven flights in seven days. One common thing is nightmare.

The horror started while leaving USA for Germany. My flight to Chicago was late by two hours - the duration I planned for transit before boarding next flight for Germany. The flight landed ten minutes before my other flight's departure giving a hope. I ran, ran, and ran. After about two miles of running - with nothing eaten earlier for four hours - got to see my flight taxiing for take off. I can only wave my hand and wish others a safe journey.

It was already 11’O clock when the airline rescheduled my flight for the next day. Had to call my company's travel centre to book a hotel in Chicago for that night's stay. General fact is that travel centre people hardly travel. They know nothing about journey. Map-idiots is the term. They put you on hold no matter from where and at what time you call them. Travel centre booked me in a hotel that is forty minutes away from the airport. But ensured that it is only two km away from the airport. Two km drive can take forty odd minutes only in Bangalore.

A Chinese cab driver was to my rescue. At least that was my thought until he took me for a ride metaphorically and literally. He was carrying a book that had street addresses and directions in text. No TomTom. A Chinese guy with no respect for technology and carrying around a paper book was indeed weird to me. Having driven for more than half-an-hour, I see nothing on road except darkness. It was a highway. The driver was easily irritated when I asked him twice whether we are on the right path. Asians, by nature, are good at annoying and very good at easily annoyed. After ten more minutes of drive, he realised that we are not on the right path. He turned around and was leading me towards airport.

Reached the hotel that was near the airport runway. First time in my life, I thought, I touched my nose from behind my head. The hotel had the same name as the one that my travel centre guru had booked me in. At the reception, I was told that I am at the wrong hotel. Have to travel forty minutes west to reach the right hotel. Already traveled east for forty-five. I had no eagerness left in me to be a Columbus rediscovering the promising land. I asked the receptionist to cancel my other booking and check me in there. He graciously agreed. After they are hotels run under one umbrella. I drove away the Chinese guy without paying his hundred odd bucks. I was in no mood to pay. When I think about it now, I feel that I should have gifted him with a GPS instead.

When I hit the bed, I knew it was the hard earned sleep that awaited. It was approaching midnight. Why do all bad things come on the same day? A perennial question.

There were many first times for me from this incident. My first flight miss. My first two mile run. My first time in Chicago. My first Chinese cab driver. My first one hour ride without knowing where I was heading to. My first time in not paying a cab driver.

What I learnt is simple:

Never trust a travel agent!