The Great Race
Monday, February 9th, 2009
Well, we left Hyderabad yesterday to begin the long journey home from India. Our plane was scheduled to leave at 9 PM, arriving at Delhi at 11:00 PM, so we arrived at the airport just after 6, plenty of time since the brand new, and very nice and modern Rajiv Gandhi International Airport wasn’t particularly crowded. We fairly breezed through check in, luggage check and security. Things were shaping up to be a pleasant traveling experience. We had to walk a little distance to our gate, but we had plenty of time.
When we arrived at Gate 25B we still had a comfortable 2 hours to wait until departure. Now, you may be thinking to yourself, “This guy’s crazy to think a 2 hour wait is comfortable”, and you might be right. All I can say is I’m not yet a seasoned traveler, and I don’t like to worry, and since I can’t stand the thought of missing a flight and having to go through all the hassle of rebooking for a new itinerary, especially at my own expense, a 2-hour wait was worth it all. Besides, I think airports are exciting places. Now I had a chance to relax and have a cup of airport mochachino (not too bad stuff. But much wimpier than Starbucks) and talk with Sharon about the wonderful India experience we had enjoyed for the last 2 weeks.
First hint of things going awry:
There is a nice big flat-screen monitor behind the Kingfisher Airlines desk at Gate 25B. We were seated in the front row with an unobstructed view of it to keep updated regarding our flight status (we travel nerds were the only ones there for almost an hour). As the time drew nearer and various other flights departed, eventually flight 3803 to Delhi made it to the “big screen”. For about the next 45 minutes all looked well. Then one time I blinked and realized some numbers had changed. The EDT of 9:00 PM which used to match the SCD suddenly had changed to 9:30. OK, no big deal, this happens all the time. The only thing that concerned me was we had been advised to check in at least 3 hours prior to departure in Delhi for the international flight to Amsterdam. Well, I figured they really didn’t need that much time but just preferred it since it would just make their jobs easier. Problem was Northwest Airlines had never exactly taken into account that procedure when they arranged the itinerary in the first place. Instead, we were scheduled to arrive with a 2:40 layover. Now we would be down to 2:10; arriving at 11:30 PM and connecting to the 1:40 AM flight out to Amsterdam. . .still very doable, though.
Well, the Kingfisher flight didn’t actually depart until a little after 10 PM so, as it turned out we were somewhat later than that. The little bit of good news was that we apparently had a significant tail wind and were able to reclaim about 15 minutes. We touched down in Delhi at 11:50. After a taxi to the terminal that seemed it would never end, the plane came to a stop and it seemed we would be OK, even though it was now well after midnight.
However, we remained stuck in the plane for some time because, as they announced, they were “having some technical difficulties with the loading ramp”. This didn’t last too long, however, maybe 5 minutes, and we off-loaded.
Next hint:
I had been to Delhi once before, 2 years ago. I remember it was a hair-raising experience with all the hustle and bustle, the masses of people, some trying to get to the gates on time, some trying to claim their baggage, some trying to claim your baggage so they could charge you rupees to carry it all out to whatever transportation you might have waiting (if you don’t have transportation they will be happy to hail you a pedicab, and then ask for more rupees for that service, too). What I failed to remember was that there are actually two airports, one for domestic and another for international flights. How this ever evolved, I don’t know. The important thing to know is that the international airport is a long ways from the domestic one. So, it means that, after landing in Delhi we had to claim our baggage, go through a passport check, then get outside to catch a shuttle which would, then, take us to that other airport.
We thought we really had it made when we walked through to door to the terminal and were immediately met by a Kingfisher Airlines representative who must have been alerted to the fact that some passengers were at risk of missing their connecting flight because of Kingfisher’s delay. He took us under his wing J and guided us to baggage claim, retrieved our baggage from the carousel, carefully stacking it on a cart, then led us to the next stop where our itineraries and passports were rechecked. He then pointed us to a security gate where they were checked again as we passed through on our way to the shuttle, and were gratefully the first passengers to have our baggage loaded up for the trip to International. We boarded the bus and got primo seating, although it was increasingly difficult to appreciate such niceties as each minute passed. And pass they did as they waited and waited for more and more passengers to board. But eventually the shuttle got underway.
It was during this shuttle ride that I realized how ridiculously far away from each other these two airports were that were no doubt collectively thought of as one by most people who had never been there. The shuttle lumbered along for a good 20 to 25 minutes to get to its destination. At one point we could finally see parked airplanes again and our hopes began to rise of catching our flight. By this time I didn’t even want to know what time it was. Then, suddenly, we came to a stop and you could almost hear 20 or 30 pairs of shoulders slump. It seems there was a plane taxiing by. Obviously he had the right-of-way. But I think we could have driven back and forth in his path 4 or 5 times in the time it took him to pass by where we were.
The rest of this creep-along shuttle ride was just sheer frustration for us, like losing a football game while watching the winning team calmly eat up the clock. When we finally reached the international airport and came to a stop we hopped out as soon as we could. It was then we realized our mistake. We and our baggage were the first ones on the shuttle. So, although we were among the first to get off, all the late-comers’ luggage was on top of ours. We ended up having to watch while, one after another, the other passengers grabbed their baggage and raced off to the terminal. We probably lost less than 5 minutes because of this snafu, but it seemed like three times that.
Final hint:
Now, I sometimes think I am a jinx. I remember on our return flight from India last year landing and going through all the customs stuff (was it in Seattle?) while in a big hurry. There were several long, slow lines of people going through check stations where guards carefully verified each person’s passport, etc. At long last Sharon and I got to the front of our line. Just as I handed the guard my passport all the computers there suddenly went off-line. All the guards at all the stations began fiddling with their keyboards. Time passed and nothing was resolved. The guards continued fiddling, and the crowd began fidgeting.
Finally “our guard” said, “I’ll be right back” and left the scene. . .with my passport still in hand! He was gone an awfully long time, I’m certain it was at least twenty minutes. I began to worry he may have gone off shift, forgetting he still had my passport. What if another guard suddenly appeared to take his place and asked me for my passport?
But, mercifully, he returned; not that the computers were fixed.
I think we must have stood at the very front of that line for close to 40 minutes before some sort of decision-making person arrived at the scene. He spoke quietly to each guard down the line. Then, as he left, the guards announced to the bedraggled crowd that all US nationals would be allowed to pass through without a computer check. I pitied the foreigners, but breathed a huge sigh of relief for Sharon and myself. And so we finally made it home that day.
Now, back to today, in Delhi. Another long, slow line of people. Another guard at the doorway. Stay with me here, this is really good. Everyone is being processed through into the terminal “surely, but slowly”. I can almost see the KLM check in counter through the big glass walls and doors of the terminal building. Time is flying by, but there is still hope. If we can get through this checkpoint without a hitch and race over to check-in we’ll have it made.
Now we’re at the front of the line. The guard holds his hand out for my passport. I reach toward him and hand it over. Then the unthinkable happens! Behind the guard a lady who had been processed through the doorway and into the weatherfront of the building was guiding her cart full of luggage through the next set of sliding glass doors. For some reason her cart lurches to a stop halfway through the glass doorway. Can you see where this is going? Yes, the automatic door opener thinks she has gone through and promptly closes the glass door. The edge of the heavy glass door slams into the steel cart and immediately disintegrates into many thousands of little glittering pieces all over the place.
I might have liked to see the look on the guard’s face but I was too busy being dumbfounded at this turn of events. I mean, what were the odds? What else could go wrong?
Sharon and I actually felt sorry for the poor woman. She surely must have been embarrassed, and maybe even a little worried about the response of the many armed security personnel.
Well, our guard quickly turned at all the noise and commotion behind him, walked over to get a closer look at the damage (it was only 8 feet away) and seemingly mulled through the meaning of this new development, all the while with my passport in his hand. If it had all happened 2 seconds sooner I would have still had custody of my passport and been able to switch over to the next line. I would have been at the end of it, but with hope, even if it was withering by now.
There was nothing we could do but wait until the guard finished shaking his head, turned and walked back to us and continued to do his job of checking us through. Then, when he finally had finished he told us we had to go through the next doorway since there was glass all over in this one; this new doorway being the one I would have like to switched over to if I had my passport before. You guessed it, we were now at the end of the line again. And when we got to the front of this line the new guard also had to make sure our papers were in order since he didn’t know the first one had already done it. What could be worse???
I will tell you what could be worse. When we finally made it into the terminal and scrambled to section G (we had, earlier, been informed that the KLM check-in counters we located in section G) there simply were no KLM check-in counters to be seen. When asked, a helpful woman at the, now China Air check-in counter, informed us that all KLM counters are now closedL.
It was about this time that Raji, (didn’t I tell you about Raji?) passed us in the terminal. I think the look on our faces must have been about the same as on hers. She looked at us and shook her head saying, “It’s too late. They won’t let us on”. I will tell you that this plane was still on the ground!, and wasn’t scheduled to leave for another 40 minutes, but they wouldn’t let us board.
Now, you may think that this is the end of the story. What more could possibly go wrong? After all, you already know that in spite of all we went through to make it on time, we ultimately failed to win the race. But, as it turns out, there is still a lot more.
Anyway, here we sit, in a hotel in Delhi. Tomorrow is another day, another race. When we finally do make it home, and when I can collect my thoughts I will tell you, as the saying goes, “The rest of the story!”
Mike
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