Blog 5: “but only near the walls.”

Neeeeeeee-eeeeeeewwwww errrrrttt errrt! That's onomatopoeia for an airplane landing on a runway. It's also the first sounds I heard as I landed in India. The second continent in this expedition that I had not stepped foot on is an Audio Daily Double. And the clue is: ASIA.

I put my shoes back on and began to get my things ready for deplaning. I grabbed my laptop bag from overhead storage and waved someone to go ahead and exit before me as I stepped to the aisle. It was 12:50 AM local time on January 27, 2010 as I stepped out onto the jetway. I had walked onto the jetway in Detroit at 6:30 PM on January 25, 2010. I looked down at my watch and saw that it was only 2:20 PM on January 26 back home. At this point, I was trying to figure out how much time I had lost and/or gained and how to get my body and mind adjusted to the time change. I mean, sure my body was only traveling for 20 hours but nearly a day and a half had passed since I boarded the plane. 4 8 15 16 23 42? I had traveled to the future. In time I would learn that my friends and family back home were only starting to see what the day had to offer as I was sitting down for dinner contemplating whether I would have garlic pickle or mango pickle to accompany my side of rice that night. Food is coming in another blog, promise.

Anyway, let me get back on track. I started to lose my train of thought there as I tried to make the Indian Standard Time ten and a half hour time zone change sound like I am a traveler of both time and space. By the way, have you picked up on the three pop culture references in this blog yet? I'll give you a hint: "One time I was in Culver City, California and found myself lost. Being in my predicament, I decided to try out for Celebrity Jeopardy; but since I am not famous, it went over about as well as a lead zeppelin."

Well, stepping out onto the jetway, it was immediately apparent that I was in a country that was completely different than what I was used to. There is this wetness in the air here that feels unlike any humidity I have ever felt. If you have been to Florida, that state just has this uncomfortable humidity that makes things much more uncomfortable during the day than they have to be. In India, it doesn't make it uncomfortable outside. It does, however, leave an odd musty smell. Let's put it this way: there is so much wetness in the air, that one day I checked weather.com for the forecast here and it said 100% humidity... and it wasn't raining. True story. I am not sure what the dew point was but you can imagine my dismay. I stepped out onto the jetway and this faint smell of old, wet newspaper hit me. It was strong at first but over time it subsides. I got out of the jetway and walked along what seemed to be a maze of halls even though I had only made a few turns and found the escalators that take you to the baggage claim.

The second thing I noticed about India is how dirty things are. The dirt on the walls in the airport alone blew my mind. It was like PigPen from The Peanuts was walking around this place the entire time - but only near the walls. You know how there is that small dirt cloud he kicks up? Well, from the floor to about a foot or two up on the walls, there was this just this off color about it, like it had a slight film of dirt on it. There were even small streaks moving through the dirt film where you could tell some water or cleaning agent had run down the wall and penetrated it.

I walked to the escalator to retrieve my luggage. As I rode the escalator down, the large baggage claim area opened up for me to see. On my right I saw a duty free store and currency exchange counter. For those counting, approximately 45 Indian Rupees make 1 US Dollar. I am sure I will reference that later. To the front, there were two metal detectors and two security guards. Off to the left were the baggage carousels. It's odd, India and all. The company I am working for out here required that I have the proper personal protection equipment for the times when I would be working with live circuits in our equipment cabinets and panels. This stuff is ridiculous. I have a full body suit, a pair of cloth gloves, a pair of rubber gloves that go on over the cloth gloves, a pair of leather gloves that go on over the cloth and rubber gloves, a face shield, and a head covering that goes on under the face shield. I am thinking about these things as two-thirds of the way down the escalator, I see the monstrosities of baggage carousels they have at the Chennai Airport. Now, if you want to see typical safety in India, check out the video at the end of the blog. The airport code, by the way, is MAA, likely because up until 1996, Chennai was called Madras. It was changed because Madras is of European origin and India is attempting to rename their cities with more traditional Indian names following their independence in 1947. Another example, Bombay changed to Mumbai.

So, I am pretty sure I have seen these baggage carousels in a Saw movie. Just like the usual carousels that you and I know, this one was essentially a large collection of overlapping metal plates that move in an oval. The big difference here was that there were zero guards in place around the moving metal plates, which I am sure is a fairly unsafe way of doing things. I could see inside the middle of the carousel and under it. I am not sure if that makes sense, but seeing the skeleton of the carousel without some kind of building covering all the innards was weird. Oh, and it had wheels too. I don't know why. I looked up and saw, on a sign with those letters like they have on fast food restaurant marquees, “Frankfurt” and my flight number above one of the two carousels. That's right, no digital signs or anything in this baggage claim.

I figured I would have a little time before my bags would get to the baggage carousel so I found the restroom. Let me begin by saying that I did not like this restroom. You know how when you meet some people, you have this inner dialogue with yourself while shaking his hand that says “I hate this guy.” Usually though, your inner dialogue was correct and the guy turns out to be a total douche. It was not the worst restroom I have ever been in, but there was just something I did not like about it. Namely, it felt dirty. Sensing a pattern here? Public restrooms are one of those things that typically feel dirty anyway. You know the kind, like the cheap gas station bathroom that you have to enter from outside with the key tied to the beating wand. They know that with their clientele, if the bathroom door was inside the convenience mart, it would reek of dirty diapers, syphilis, wet dog, and for some reason orange juice inside all the time.

Now even in those bathrooms back home, I feel gross when I walk in. I worry that if I stand too close to the urinal, I am going to see crabs carrying a backpack full of herpes parachuting off of it into my pubic hair. Here, same feeling, and remember that this is in the airport! I finished up, walked over to the sink, and found this odd contraption. It was sort of a teardrop-shaped container with a hole in the top hanging from the wall. I noticed that I could swing the container upside down and a bit of soap would be dispensed into my hand. Again, I really do not like touching things in a bathroom and for the same reason, I really did not like this. I am the guy who pre-dispenses his paper towels, washes his hands, grabs the paper towel with the water still running, and turns off the water with the paper towel in hand. One time, I had pre-dispensed a paper towel in a restroom and this guy saw me do it. Instead of using the other dispenser to get his own paper towel, he grabbed the one I had already dispensed! In my head, I was giving him hell. In real life, I just looked at him in the mirror, disappointed, and avoided eye contact because I am polite and rarely confrontational. I usually assess a bathroom immediately when walking in to make sure that the trashcan is near the door so I can open the door with the towel and hold the door open with my foot while I toss (hopefully successfully) my paper towel into the trash. I found the hand dryer hanging on the wall, plugged into an outlet, which was kind of an odd sight considering that normally all the electrical for a hand dryer is hidden behind it.

My restroom adventure was finished so I waited out by the baggage carousel for my bag. All of a sudden, without warning, the carousel starts moving. The metal plates began swinging around their predetermined oval path ready to cut at any moment. Lucky for me, I knew where each steel sheet o' death was going to be moving next so I easily avoided death. A fairly unstable looking bridge with metal chain link conveyor material began to carry across the baggage from our flight and toss it down onto the razor blade carousel. My bag, with the orange “PRIORITY” sticker (because I flew business class), came down fourth. I grabbed my bag, successfully avoiding having my arm chopped off by the carousel.

Next, I waited in line behind 4 people to exchange my US currency to Indian currency. I exchanged $200 US for about 8,000 INR, which wasn't the exact exchange rate but I am sure there was a fee and no one here seems that concerned with getting things right on when you are dealing with money anyway. Remind me to tell you about my trips to the grocery stores later and how they deal with not having the correct change in the cash drawer. I grabbed my currency, made my way to the security guards at the front of the terminal, showed any paperwork they needed to see, and exited to the front of the airport to be greeted by 400 or 500 Indians hanging out with signs and yelling. This should be interesting.