Airport Clusterfucks

Airports have never been pleasant. Enjoying a VIP lounge only somewhat makes up for everything else about an airport that is meant solely to torture passengers under the guise of security. I've been to so many in the past few weeks and I'm so over being in one. Too bad there's still lots of visits still in my immediate future. Delhi Airport is probably the worst airport I've ever encountered with Heathrow and Newark being close behind.

Just recalling my return flight from Delhi raises my blood pressure but I'll push on with this. Maybe it will be cathartic. My flight was at 2:00AM on Sunday. I was supposed to be out of the hotel by 8:00 PM. That left lots of time in between with no where to be so I went to the airport. Passengers need some sort of proof they are flying that day in order to be allowed inside the airport. Even if you have electronic tickets you need a printout or some other proof. Without it, they'll take your passport, stick you in a holding area outside while a policeman investigates your claims of travel. That happened to me last year.

This year I was prepared with a printed receipt. I walked up to the policeman and showed it to him. "Sir you aren't flying today, you must come back tomorrow" he tells me. I pointed out to him that my flight was a very early morning flight. There was some back and forth then eventually he allowed me in probably because a throng of people were crowding in behind me giving me nowhere to go but forward. Once inside I learned that it was too early to check in. I would have to wait an hour. That wasn't so bad. There were chairs to wait in near the checkin desk. Well the one hour turned to two before I was finally allowed to check in.

The agent who "helped" be was a typical high caste woman aka "ma'am". Everyone is beneath her and she'll clearly let you know this. I really despise Indian ma'ams. The urge to choke vibrates my hands when I'm near one. She sees that I have two bags, looks at me as though I just shit on her desk and tells me curtly, "You have a one bag allowance".

I respond "well I have two".

She repeats "you have a one bag allowance, sir"

"Yes, and?" I reply.

She just stares at me and sighs. "You'll have to pay" she says.

"Yes I know" I reply.

She sighs again then calls over a porter and proceeds to go though the procedures to charge for the extra bag. While she does this I ask her to look into the cost of upgrading to business class. She completely ignores me as I ask and doesn't give me any indication she hears me. Once all the paperwork is completed she hands me a card and my boarding pass then tells me to go to another line to pay. I ask again about the upgrade. She ignores that question entirely and repeats that I need to go to the other line. I persist. "What about the upgrade?" at this point my trembling hands are raising past my belt unconsciously. She utterly refuses to talk to me and insists I move to the other line.

I gave in and just slid over to the line she needed me in so badly. Once I made it to the front the young girl working that counter starting having trouble with a stamping machine. She clearly doesn't know what to do about it but remains fixated on it. Some guy stood behind her watching her while smiling and offering advise. This took five minutes or more. Once she fixed it or gave up, I'm not sure which, she took my card and then asked for payment. I asked her about the upgrade and she actually listened to me and looked up the cost. There were no available seats it turned out so upgrading was pointless. I paid the extra baggage fee and then was off to passport control.

As I waited in line another agent walked up to me and asked if I was "the one" that checked excess baggage. I confirmed that I was then was told to see her once past passport control. I figured I was maybe undercharged or worse was about to be shaken down. I was warned about that from someone in Dharmsala. I met her at the other side and she took me to a room only telling me to follow her. Any question I asked got the answer "please follow me sir". She takes me into a room where a man immediately proceeds to ask me questions. "Why do you have excess baggage?" "What do you need excess baggage for?" "What are you carrying?" all asked in rapid succession by a perturbed looking man in plain clothes.

"I just need two bags, that's all" was my response.

"What do you do?" he asked.

"Software Engineer" my reply.

"You don't look like a software engineer" he says looking me up and down suspiciously.

"Well I am" I reply. He continues to grill me about why I was in India. He even went so far as to demand the phone number for the Dharmsala Dog Rescue so he could verify my claims. At this point I was getting pissed. I was ready for an international incident. "What is this about?" I demanded.

I was informed that my bags would be searched and I should wait in a holding area until they arrive. About five minutes later they show up and the inspection process begins. A bag full of smelly clothes and toiletries seemed to have disappointed my inquisitor. I had my daily backpack packed inside one of the bags and when he picked it up he asked why it was so heavy. I had some common tools in it, tools that I carry whenever I travel. I opened to bag and showed him. To him, me having tools was just way too suspicious. "What does a software engineer need with tools? huh?" he asks me aggressively.

"To fix things" i reply.

"But you told me you are a software engineer. Why do you need tools?" he persisted.

I snapped. I was done and didn't care how many armed police were about to rush in. "There's nothing wrong with tools, especially when I'm checking them!" I yelled. "What the fuck is wrong with tools?" I added. Another guy in the office said something to him in Hindi and they had a conversation then he made a phone call. The last thing he said, after speaking Hindi for the entire call was "its not my fault". I had no idea what that meant. Meanwhile I'm sitting on the couch imagining a jail cell and phone calls with the US Embassy. The guy who seemed to be the boss walked in and told me I could go. The inquisitor told me that I would ask the same question if I was in his shoes. I refrained from replying. My other bag wasn't searched and I was escorted to the security line.

What a cluster fuck! At that point I wanted out of India so fucking badly. I still had three hours to wait. It was a very long three hours of swirling hatred and loathing. Every word I heard in Hindi was like nails on a chalkboard. I need some time away from that place now. I wish there was a way into Dharmsala that didn't involve being in the rest of India. I'm sure time will heal my wounds but right now I'm so happy to not be there.

So right now I'm in the Heathrow United lounge waiting for my flight back to San Francisco. I'm not too fond of Heathrow either. Everyone here is so rigid, so bureaucratic and often ignorant and/or stupid. Coming though security, a flight attendant was in front of me. She's British so I'm sure she's gone through security lines many many times. At the entry, she opens her bag and removes the clear plastic bag containing her toiletries. The security agent immediately takes it and informs her that she's not using the proper bag. She pulls out the cheap plastic bags that security hands out at the start of the line. The flight attendant informs her that the bag is a standard-issue employee travel kit issued by the the airline and that she's had it for at least a year and its been though security often. The security agent doesn't buy the argument and insists its the wrong bag. The flight attendant went ballistic. I was quieting cheering for her. Still the security agent with a glazed-over look refuses to allow the bag though. I managed to get by and as I was leaving security looked back and they were still arguing.


Anyway. This is most likely it for this blog for a while. The rest of my life isn't exciting enough to blog about. When something exciting does happen I'll restart this.

Bye...