Last year, on our vacation, we were on our way from Mumbai, India, to Bangalore. The Rain Gods of Mumbai decided to torture us by shedding all the water supply they had, onto Mumbai in one day! We were informed that our flight was on time, but when we reached the airport, we gathered it was a mean trick played by the airline authorities to torture the passengers. Our flight was delayed indefinitely and there was no indication of the probable time of departure. My brother-in-law who had accompanied us to the airport waited for a couple of hours and then reluctantly left for work.

My younger daughter was getting hungry and we went on our way looking for the food court after checking in our baggage. A very helpful airline staff member directed us to a lounge upstairs where we would find some good food. Upstairs was not just upstairs. It meant hauling up our luggage, going through a maze of hallways and cowering before security guards questioning our intentions. We finally made our way to the Jet airways lounge and got ourselves microscopic samosas for half our fortune. We didn’t find announcements for any other airline on the ubiquitous screens which kept flashing only information about Jet airways schedules. We quickly ate our samosas and my older daughter and I decided to go downstairs to check on our status of our flight. We go down only to be shocked by the announcement that our flight was boarding. We rushed upstairs all the way through the mazes and the guards, screamed at my husband and my daughter to run downstairs, grabbed our bags and rushed back down. Since we had checked in, the airline staff had been frantically looking for us. Some guy yelled, “Where were you guys? We were looking all over the place for you!” We weren’t even given a chance to explain. They grabbed us and dumped us unceremoniously onto a bus and took us to the aircraft which was getting ready to leave without us. We were literally thrown into the plane and slowly made our way to our seats. We were given cold glares by the other passengers and were wondering why they all seemed so hostile. The stewardess, with the voice of a harassed mother of a 2 year old asked “Where were you?” Very truthfully, (which afterwards I realized was a mistake) I said, “Eating samosas.” She looked at us with disbelief and literally pushed us towards our seats, which were, by the way, torn and stained. Maybe the “friendly passengers” had something to do with it? We will never know. We gingerly sat on the seats, literally on the edge of the seats and prayed for a miracle which would teleport us to our destination without the anti-social looks from anyone. It turned out that the aircraft couldn’t leave without us and they were looking for us for the past 10 minutes. The engine had been turned off and everyone was sweating buckets of perspiration while we were enjoying our samosas. No wonder the 10 minutes seemed like 10 aeons for the rest of the friendly folks!

Now that the errant passengers had arrived, everyone settled in their seats and got ready for take off. The rain hadn’t yet relented and many of the runways had been closed. The engines started, the air-conditioning was back on and everyone relaxed. It was just a delay of 10 minutes and the good folks in the plane got into a forgiving mood. The people next to us even ventured a slight nod at us when no one else was looking.

Just as things were returning to normal, a voice boomed into the cabin, “Hello everybody, this is your captain. We apologize for the unnecessary delay caused by some thoughtless passengers. We attempted a take off, but visibility is poor and looks like we won’t be able to move for sometime now. I request you all to collect your bags and prepare to deplane. We will make another attempt as soon as the weather improves even slightly. Please listen carefully to the announcements and make sure you are ready to board the aircraft whenever boarding is announced. Any passenger who fails to board, will be doing so at their own risk and we will not take responsibility for it”. The engine was shut off again and everyone huffed and puffed and took out their cabin bags.

Soon after we took our bags, the pilot comes back on the intercom, “Hello folks, I have some good news for you. Looks like the main runway is available for take off. There is some equipment there which will help us get the plane in the air even with poor visibility. So please go back to your seats, put your bags up and prepare to enjoy the flight!”
All of us dumped our bags back on the cabin racks and got ready again for take off. The pilot taxied on to the main runway. But hey, life isn’t that simple. He came back on the speaker, “We apologize once again for the inconvenience, but I have just been told that this runway was shut down a couple of minutes ago for a 2 hour maintenance. Please prepare to deplane. A bus will take you to the arrival lounge where you can pick up the bags you checked in. After that, you will have to go to the departure lounge and check in your bags once again, go through security and board the plane when the boarding call is made. We once again deeply apologize for this inconvenience.
Now the passengers started getting verbally hostile towards us. A man standing next to me asked me very politely, “Ma’am, are you happy now that you have put 200 passengers to so much trouble? Do you know that I’ve come from the US just 3 days ago and I am tired and jetlagged and desperately waiting to get to my home in Bangalore?”

That was it. I had enough of the hostile glares and barbs we got for no fault of ours. I launched into a speech which, in my opinion, should go down in history and literature along with Martin Luther King’s “I have a Dream” speech and Portia’s speech about the Quality of Mercy. I gently, but loud enough for everyone to hear, said, “For your information, sir, we’ve also come from the US. We too landed 3 days back. We’re also tired and jetlagged and hungry. There was an indefinite delay in departure and there was no information about the scheduled time for take off. We came to the airport at 9 in the morning. We were right there near the check in desk till 1 pm. My children then got hungry. We were looking for something to eat when an airline employee at the desk directed us to this lounge. There were no announcements on that floor. We spent time just enough to eat one samosa each. How were we supposed to know that in the time we took to reach the lounge, eat that measly samosa and get back down, boarding would be announced? Do you think we are that dumb to inconvenience 200 passengers just so we can eat a samosa? Who is to be blamed for not making announcements on all the floors? Who will take the responsibility for wrongly directing us to the lounge which was completely shut off from the rest of the airport? Who is to be blamed for the flight being delayed from 10 a.m. to 2 pm when a lot of the other airlines were operating on schedule? How are we to know that a 10 minute delay on our part for no fault of ours, should get us in so much trouble?

I could have gone on and on, but my husband put his hand on my shoulder and indicated that I should stop. My strong words seemed to take effect and the gentleman next to me even started to make small talk with us about where we lived in the US. No one else said a word and we all made our way out of the aircraft onto a bus which took us to the arrival lounge for some inexplicable reason. We had to collect our checked in luggage and found our way back to the departure lounge where we had to go through the whole rigmarole of checking in our baggage and waiting for take off. We were provided with the exclusive service of two “body guards” from the airline whose main mission was to make sure we didn’t disappear again. We weaved and clawed and pushed our way past the crowds to security and then boarded the aircraft again. Thanks to our “bodyguards”, we were among the first to board. We noticed that the first thing that all the passengers did on boarding the flight, before even looking for their seats, was to assure themselves that we were there, seated and belted in our proper places. Hey, we became famous, only notoriously so!

We finally took off from Mumbai at 6 pm instead of the scheduled 10 a.m. We reached Bangalore around 7.30 pm. We had asked my parents not to come to the airport since they were sick. Very smartly arranged for a pre-paid cab, settled ourselves comfortably in it and told the cabbie to go for it like he was being chased by the mob. Only little hassle – cabbie man didn’t know how to reach the place. My husband, very confident of his skill for remembering directions, said, “Hey, never mind, we used to live here. We’ll guide you!” Or so he thought! but it was dark and it looked like in the span of 6 years, the old Bangalore had been totally uprooted and a whole new alien city had taken its place. Street names had changed, old buildings had been demolished and new ones had taken their place. We went round and round the jolly ol’ town and after numerous SOS calls to my home, making my parents even sicker with worry, we finally reached home at 10 pm, tired, hungry and worn-out. What a day it had been!
Now don’t get me started talking about our return trip when we got stuck at London Heathrow during the terrorist bomb threat of Aug 06!

Seven years ago, it all began at the Excalibur in Las Vegas. I bought in for $100 – an absolute fortune for the poor grad student that I was. I sat for 3 hours without getting a hand worth playing. The only thing keeping me there was the sideshow of characters I’ll try to describe:

On my right were 3 brothers from Massachusetts who were in town for their annual family get-together. They were playing for fun more that profit, which was part of my downfall. They couldn’t be bluffed, and would never fold. They had me beaten psychologically, and as a result, my stack dwindled.

On my left was a 300 pound, noticeably drunk gorilla with multiple facial piercings, several neck tattoos, a shaven head, and a blue goatee that was reportedly due to his having “carnal knowledge” of the cartoon character Smurfette. As the three brothers continued to “buy” him no less than 16 free drinks, he donated more than $300 to the pot without taking a single hand.

As Bluebeard grew more irate with his drunken luck, he revealed that he was actually in town for the Ultimate Fighting Championship the night before.

As a competitor.

Who was beaten.

Badly.

He compounded his frustration in losing by propositioning every female passerby in an all-metaphors-barred tirade. After security intervened for the third time, I realized that as a 125 pound engineering student I had not chosen the best seat.

Down to my last $24, I decided that I needed to make a financial stand and a physical retreat. I was dealt K-8 of clubs, and raised with my speculative hand. Bluebeard called without looking at his cards, and he was ridiculed by the 3 brothers. Furious, he explained that he was going to play this hand blind, and that if he lost again, he’d simply flip the table upside down.

The flop came with a single king, giving me the top pair. I bet to protect my hand from someone drawing an ace. Bluebeard RAISED me, still playing blind, just to spite the brothers. This of course only fueled their laughter, and in turn – his adrenaline.

The next card was an 8, giving me 2 pair, and the probable best hand. I bet again, this time hoping Bluebeard would get the message, and back down willingly. He (of course) reraised me, and restated his mission: win a hand or start breaking people.

The final card came down as another king, giving me a full house (KKK88) and the highest possible hand. I knew I would win, and decided to bet hoping that Bluebeard would fold, or that security would do their job. Bluebeard, of course, called with a drunken glare in my direction.

I rolled my cards over in the most nonthreatening way I could: “Sorry man, but I have kings full. That’s the nuts.” He flipped his unseen cards as he stood up, turned to me, and passed out in my lap, taking me, my chair, and a waitress to the floor.

King 8. Split pot.

I rode the bus on my first day of highschool. I didn’t really mind. I recognized a couple of kids, but really I enjoyed the time. It gave me an opportunity to plan for my classes, double check to make sure I had enough school gear in my backpack (pens, paper, etc.). I got to school, took in the overwhelming size of the campus, and then attempted to find where my first class was located. Long story short, I mixed up the halls (A,B,C,D,E), and couldn’t find the stairs to reach the third floor. I realized my mistake and quickly headed toward the right hall, running through the courtyard. Keep in mind, I was wearing a pair of Birkenstock clogs (hey, it was 1999) with no socks. I wasn’t looking down, and ended up sticking my foot in a tiny 6-7inch diameter hold in the ground that was filled with water from the previous night’s rainfall. I stumbled into class, history I think it was, late, and making a squishing sound every other step. Pretty soon the water in the sandal formed with whatever that stuff is on the inside and made a nice silky gel in between my toes for the rest of the day.

Then, lunch came. Because of fate’s own humor, none of my friends from middle school were in my lunch period. I felt risky and ordered some natchos, only to spill said natchos on my lap ten minutes later, and with no one near me that I could even lament to, saying, “Can you believe that?”

I went to the bathroom and cleaned my pants, headed back to class. Apparently I was late because of doing so, and the teacher made sure I was aware of that, addressing me in front of the whole class, saying, “We return from lunch at 12:30, no later, even if you do have an accident.” The kids in the class then looked at my wet crotch and snickered. I tried explaining about the natchos, how the cheese is hard to get out of denim without club soda, but it was no use, so I took my seat.

That afternoon, between classes, I noticed a cute young girl I had never seen before. I assumed she was also a freshman. I guess she held the same overall awkward demeanor. I went up to her, and smiling and being courteous, said, “Hey, how’s it going?” She replied, “What’s with your pants? Gross.” I’ll let you guess what she presupposed the wet mark on my pants was. Hmm…what a lovely day so far.

At the end of the day I went and talked with the coach for the wrestling team because I intended on trying out for the team later that year. Never let yourself or your children do the sport, it’s horribly depressing and in the middle of winter. He was a short, statue of a man with shrivled ears. He ended up saying I could play if I wanted but I needed to gain at least fifty pounds of muscle, seeing as I was 5’11″ and 125 pounds. “You’re a little gangly, son,” I believe were his words. Still am, it seems.

At the time, all of these incidents seemed very devistatingat the time. But, in retrospect, I probably didn’t miss much from being late to my first class, just the role call. The stain came out of the jeans. The girl turned out being mean all the time, not just then, so talking to her was a doomed choice anyways. And I ended up quiting wrestling and choosing running instead, seeing how the coach’s only encouraging remarks during practice were, “Nice running, there.” And I guess like any Schulz story, there were never any drastic deaths or tragic happenings, just lovely little humiliating moments that may teach us something, but really just help us to look at the absurdity in life sometimes.

He calls after our date to tell me what a great time he had. We talk on the phone subsequently, things are progressing well. We schedule to meet again in a few days later, Saturday, for dinner. He’ll pick me up, he says. ‘kay. I’m a happy gal.

Then Saturday comes. The day goes along with not a call from him. I wait, deluding myself by thinking that maybe he’ll call later. Well maybe later… Ok, then, perhaps right before dinner, to tell me he’s on his way.

Not. Nothing. I take myself out to dinner and mentally cross him off the list.

The next day I get a call. He was at a monastery, he claims, visiting a friend and got stuck there. This was definitely original, and although I wanted to assume that if he was lying he would have come up with something more realistic, I was still skeptical. He begged for my forgiveness and asked what he had to do to be able to see me again. I said “earn back my trust”.

So he called me diligently each day for the next week, solicitous, sweet and charming. Finally I agreed to go out with him again. We schedule the night and…

Same thing. I got stood up again. I’m not sure which feeling was more dominant that evening: confusion or stupidity…

I finally finished up my work at about 10pm and still had to drive home to Charlotte, about a 3 hour drive, to drop off the van and pick up my car. Halfway home, I took a wrong turn and ended up on a small county road. While trying to turn the van around, I backed it into a ditch. I was a wit’s end when I spotted a small house off the road with the lights on. I went up to the door and explained to the young lady what had happened. She told me that her father-in-law had a tow truck. We called him, he helped tow me out of the ditch and I found my way back to the highway.

Unfortunately, I had lost my temper when I first got on the road and gave the gear shift a good slam. Halfway up a hill, I realized that the gear shift had come loose from its socket and I was halfway between second and third gear. I was able to coast into a large parking lot and call my boss on my cell phone. I explained what had happened and he walked me through taking the cover off of the gear shift and putting it back together. Again, I was on my way back home.

The piece de resistance was yet to come. I should have known better, but I just had to stop at that all-night diner when I only had about a half an hour to go. I just HAD to use the ladies room. As luck would have it, just as I flushed the toiled, I dropped my beeper in the toilet. I delicately fished it out and headed to the home stretch. My boss came out very quietly and helped took my equipment out of the van as I got in my car. He was convinced that I would quit while I was convinced that one bad trip would not force me out of a perfectly good job.

You know, during our conversations, he did a great job of getting info out of me about me, and avoiding my return questions. That should have been a clue for what was to come.

The man showed up an hour and a half late for our date. Of course this is because he was 45 and I was 26, and he had problems dropping of his 156 year old son at his ex-wife’s house. Information that he did not divulge in earlier conversations. I decided to try to give the guy a chance even though he was so much older.

He asked me if I minded that He picked out a place for us to go. I said I did not mind because I was sure it would be a nice place. He picked out Furr’s cafeteria; which in and of itself was not a “horrible” place. My true problem with it came when half way through dinner he asked me to pay for half of dinner because he didnt have enough money. I should have excused myself for the restroom, called someone on the pay phone and got out of dodge; but, I kept thinking I needed to try to tough it and give him a chance. I paid half, and we left headed in a direction from home that I was unfamiliar with.

His next plan was to take in “Shakespear in the park” at an outdoor ampitheater north of the city. We got there, and he asked me to find out how much the tickets were, because he did not know if he had enough money. Disgusted, I got out of his car and walked 3 city blocks to the ticket office to find out the cost. I hiked back to his car to tell him, and when I opened the door, there he was sitting, naked and reclined in the driver’s seat! I screamed, slammed the door and took off walking, trying to find a cop or a pay phone. He jumped into his pants, and drove after me and rolled down the window telling me to “stop being ridiculous” and get in the car. I was thinking he was a serial rapist, and who did he think I was? I was SO preppy, and goodie goodie looking (according to friends) that I was shocked into silence. Finally, I did give in to getting in his car, only because he did not have electric locks, and I couldnt find a phone or a cop anywhere. I demanded that he take me home, and he kept telling me he was just doing what he was feeling, and why was I so uptight about it. When he pulled up to my house, I literally jumped out of his car and ran into the house.

He phoned later and asked if I was interested in another date. I told him to lose my number.