Yue’s Yappings

Picking up from Part I.

Frankfurt to Munich is a short flight. After arriving in Munich, I was reminded how nice its airport is - there are lots of fancy shops and cafes. Its much better than Frankfurt. But I was too tired to for window shopping, and instead, went straight to the Lufthansa business lounge.

With my United 1 K membership card, I was able to enter the lounge without problem. But when I asked for an upgrade on my flight to Delhi, then a problem appeared. The agent told me that they don’t accept electronic upgrade vouchers, but instead need paper vouchers from United at least two weeks in advance. Absurd. I am really beginning to hate Lufthansa.

It is a 10 hour flight from Munich to Delhi. Having no status with Lufthansa, although its part of the Star Alliance, they put me in a middle seat towards the back of the plane. Squeezing between two huge middle eastern looking men, complete with turbans, I lost the heart to argue and prepared myself for a miserable flight.

After two meal services, and 4 movies, the plane finally neared Delhi. But, instead of preparing for landing, our plane was circled for a long time. Everyone started getting anxious to get off this plane. Finally the pilot came on over the intercom:

“Due to the heavy fog in Delhi, we can’t land. We’re now headed towards Mumbai to refuel and will then return to Deli once the fog lifts.”

For a moment I was happy, since Mumbai is much closer to Bangalore than Deli. In addition, Mumbai also has also a big airport, where I should able to get a flight to Bangalore easily.

An hour later, our plane landed in Mumbai. Still enjoying this turn of events, the pilot came on the intercom again and burst my happy little bubble:

“We have arrived in Mumbai, but no one can leave the plane. We will wait until the fog clears, and then return to Deli.”

Drats. So we all waited patiently for over an hour, at which time we took off and headed back to Delhi. When we arrive, it’s the February 6th, around noon. As this point, I have spent over 30 hours traveling.

My first impression of the Delhi airport was how old it looked. After passing through customs, I said goodbye to Steve, who had his luggage with him. I headed to the baggage claim, fearing that my luggage would be no where to be found. And of course it wasn’t there.

I walked to the luggage help desk, where a very pleasant Indian man greeted me. After I told him my name, he looked at a piece of paper, and said “yes, Mrs. Savage, we were notified by the Frankfurt airport that you luggage is still in Frankfurt and will be on the next flight to Delhi arriving at midnight.”

“But I am going to Bangalore right now, and I won’t be here at midnight.”

“No worry, mam, we will get your luggage through customs, and send it on the next flight to Bangalore. All you need to do is go to Bangalore airport tomorrow to collect it.”

“Can’t you just send the bags directly to Bangalore from Frankfurt?”

“No, mam, it’s policy. We always ship the luggage with the passenger.”

This didn’t sound at all good to me, and as you’ll see, it wasn’t. But I wasn’t getting anywhere arguing with him, and took the 2000 India rupees (about $50) he handed me as well as a plastic toiletries bag.

Next it was time to get my flight to Bangalore. I started walking around the airport looking for domestic flights. Not finding them, I headed back to the security gate and approached a guard. He asked for my identification and tickets. I showed him my confirmation e-ticket to Bangalore. He then told me I was at the wrong airport - all domestic flights leave from a different airport across town.

Uugh. Next I headed outside, looking for a taxi stand. Of course there were no signs anywhere, but plenty of locals hanging out around the outside of the airport. Some were even lying on the ground taking naps.

Not sure of my next step, I called my partners in Bangalore, told them I was in Delhi and needed to catch a flight to Bangalore. I asked them how I should get to the domestic airport from international airport, and they said look for the prepaid taxi stand.

Then, a man approached me to see if I needed to go anywhere. A bit wary, I asked him if he could take me to the domestic airport, and he of course said yes. I gave him some rupees and hopped into his tiny car. In the front passenger seat was a very skinny, young boy. I rolled down the window as we left the Delhi International airport. The air was dusty, and we passed by a number of run down buildings, dirt roads and people working on the road shoveling dirt. During the entire trip, I kept wondering why isn’t the young boy in school and why aren’t people working on the side of road using machines?

Having thought Delhi’s international airport needed work, I was shocked by the domestic airport. The best description is that it looked like a Chinese bus station (never mind a US bus station). It’s very old and very small. And it teemed with security guards.

I found the check-in counter for the local airline I am flying. The agent told me that I had missed my flight, and due to the heavy fog in the morning, many flights were canceled. Thus, there were no seats available for me but she would put me on the waiting list. I then was supposed to come back ever hour to check my status.

I dragged my tote, containing my laptop, wallet, passport, an Atlantic Monthly and the toiletry bag I received from Lufthansa. I looked around for a seat…and saw none. My options were either sitting on a stair case, the sidewalk curb outside. or the floor. And of course I had to stay awake for the next few hours.

After more searching, I finally found a place that looked like an airline lounge in the very back of the building. A sign at the door said I needed some sort of voucher to get in. I didn’t have an energy to find out how to get the voucher, so I sneaked in while the hostess was busy with another passenger. I found a seat in the back of lounge, in front a big TV, and sat down.

Hours passed by, and no one come bothered to ask for a voucher. On the television was a program recapping the results of Super Tuesday in the United States as Obama and Hillary continued their primary battle. There was also a snack bar near me, which had a variety of Indian food that I couldn’t name, but happily ate.

A few Indian business men sat next to me, and when I told them my situation, they said:

“Pray to God, he will help you.”

Not quite what I was expecting. I had never even thought of praying in a situation like this before, but maybe it was time to change my ways an pray more. But I figure it might degenerate into “please God help me with my sale quota for this quarter” - which I figure God has better things to worry about than that.

Eight hours come and go, people come and go, but the Super Tuesday show is still going strong. I finally got up the courage and went to the check-in counter, practically begging agent to clear me off the wait list. She looked me , took pity, and handed me a boarding pass for the next flight to Bangalore. When I finally arrive it was near midnight, 45 hours after I had left Denver.

To be continued a bit more…