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.

Blog 4: “…with his cube of a fist”

Okay, fourth blog, time to get this trip on the road in the air. Uhh… You know what I mean. As you might recall, seating in business class is 2-2-2. Lucky for me, no one sat next to me on this flight. That is a bonus when you are flying economy, but in business class, this was a one-way ticket to AwesomeTown.

Let me just say, during my flight while I was getting used to the comforts that Lufthansa had to offer me (Lufthansa in no way is paying me for my comments, but if they want to, my e-mail is joeba31@hotmail.com and we can work out a contract), I never lost a slight grin on my face. I felt like I was the mayor of AwesomeTown and everyone else flying with me were part of AwesomeTown’s city hall. Oddly, city hall did not appear to be as excited about this as I was. I find it hard to believe that someone could get jaded by this experience, but I will let it go.

I had just gotten my seat into a comfortable reclined position when a male flight attendant (yes, I feel the need to point out this flight attendant was male) asks me to put my seat in the upright position. I guess in all my excitement, I forgot that they prefer you seated that way during takeoff. He also took back the unfinished mini glass of white wine he had served me not two minutes prior. Nevertheless, I was not going to let this get me down.

On the monitor at the front of the aircraft and on the monitor in front of me, a video began playing welcoming me on the aircraft and explaining what to do if the plane ends up not faring so well in the sky. It reminded me of Fight Club when Tyler Durden points out to The Narrator that all of the people in the flight emergency card are “calm as Hindu cows.” It’s funny because I am heading to India, but anyway, this video basically took the human Hindu cows and made them animated. Never once did their facial expressions change. Again, another pop culture reference came to mind. Remember when 3-D graphics were just getting really cool in video games? Not like X-Box 360/PS3 cool, but like PS1/N64 cool. Remember when a guy would grab an item and his hand would never open to grab it? It just stayed this same blocky fist and the item magically went in. Sometimes the gun or whatever would clip awkwardly and unrealistically through his hand reminding you that you were just playing a video game. That was about the quality of this animation. A guy put his briefcase in the overhead storage bin with his cube of a fist and the handle clipped right through his hand and rested neatly in the overhead bin. Also, something I noticed during this little movie was that the guy in the video was using my mechwarrior cockpit the whole time. I wondered if they showed economy a different video. If not, those economy travelers have to feel like major jerks sitting in those chairs and seeing what I am rocking up front.

There is not a large language barrier between Germans and Americans but one does slightly exist. Being a German airliner, the attendants were all German as well. Shortly after takeoff, beverage service began. Immediately, I ordered a wodka (because the “w” is pronounced like a “v” in German) and Coca-Cola Light (because Diet Coke is called Coca-Cola Light in Germany). The flight attendant assumed I did not want these mixed together, but I did. Maybe this experience was not quite a language barrier as it was a difference in cultures? That was also a fairly pointless story.

Two beverages in and dinner service begins. My flight was right around 7:00 PM so the dinner was served in the earlier part of the flight. The flight attendants walk down the aisle and hand menus to each passenger. Menus on an airplane! Maybe I am oblivious to international business class travel but I was quite excited to have a decent choice of items to choose from. Anyone else who has traveled international business class reading this probably feels like a member of AwesomeTown city hall. Maybe I will feel that way when I read this sometime down the road. There were three choices in each the appetizer, dinner, and desert categories. I chose the Chicken Caesar Salad to start, Roasted Arctic Char (with parsley-horseradish sauce) as the main course, and a Lemon Mandeleine as my desert. All were quite delicious, plus I got a nice assortment of three different cheeses with the salad to om nom nom on with some bread and fruit.

Now, I had already had two bowls of That Pasta Stuff in the Lufthansa business lounge prior to the flight so after the dinner service, I was feeling incredibly stuffed. I tried to digest my food by reading a bit of my book, watching Surrogates, and playing a little Caveman and Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? (if you know trivia outside of America). Well, sitting in a chair really does not aide digestion. I was still stuffed. I figured if sitting doesn’t help, I could try sleeping. I grabbed my remote control, pressed the preprogrammed button to put the chair into a full sleep mode. The chair flattened all the way out allowing me room to stretch out completely. Other than not being a bed, the only thing keeping this from feeling like a real bed was that the bed was not fully parallel to the floor. It was probably on a 170° angle. So, still being stuffed, I unbuttoned my pants while I slept. Is that gross?

Two hours of sleep later, we landed in Frankfurt, Germany. Welcome to continent number 1 (Europe) I had never stepped on. I gathered my belongings, headed out of the plane, and took a short walk from my arrival gate to B26, my next departure gate. I hopped on the plane to Chennai, India with the same comforts my previous flight offered so I won't bore you with it. This time I decided to fall asleep immediately for five hours.

As I awoke, I saw one of the flight attendants walking through the aisle looking like she had to tell someone something. I looked up at her and she quickly walked over to me and told me to open the window. I woke up just in time to catch Burj Al Arab (sail boat hotel)

and the Palm Tree Islands

out my window in Dubai. They look absolutely incredible from 37,000 feet up. I imagine the picture above of the Islands is about 25-30,000 feet or so.

I occupied myself with my book and another meal (not as good as the first) for the rest of the flight and prepared for my descent into India.

Blog 3: “(if you know trivia outside of America).”

When you board a giant aircraft like the ones I flew on for this trip, they open up two different jetways for the passengers to board. Economy class boards one and the business and first class passengers board the other. I walked into the plane and a flight attendant directed me down the proper aisle to find seat 15A. I first walked through first class where the seats were arranged 1-2-1. Then I made it to business class where the seats are arranged 2-2-2. I have been told that those suckers back in economy class sit something like 3-4-3. Les Misérables.

My seat was gigantic. It looked like the cockpit to a mechwarrior. For real, a mechwarrior, if a mechwarrior cockpit also came with a pillow and blanket. I had a guesstimated (spell check apparently agrees that “guesstimated” is a word) 13” television in front of me. I had magazine storage next to the television. Down to the left there was a vented power supply for my laptop and under that was shoe storage. On the front of my armrest, there was a button that said “Table/Tisch.” Naturally, I pressed it and a spring-loaded table popped up about an inch from a compartment next to the armrest. I grabbed it, unfolded it, and slid it closer and further from me just to test it out. Did I mention my seat was like the cockpit to a mechwarrior? I folded up the table and put it away.

This could not be the end to how cool my seat was so I continued feeling around and fondling everything around me (except for people) that I could. I had three different windows to look out of and I, yes I, alone controlled whether or not the shades stayed up or down. Okay, so that’s not as impressive, but I did have control over three!

I looked behind me and to the left and there was a nice little cubbyhole that fit my book perfectly. The book I would be reading during this trip is called John Dies at the End. I have told this joke about seven times now but here it goes again: I bought this book because I figured that if it is no good half way through, I can just stop reading because I know how it ends. Hey-oh! Also in the cubbyhole is a grab bag of goodies. It had three Lufthansa golf tees, covers for the earphones I had not yet found, an extra pair of socks, an eye cover for sleeping, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. I was going to take this grab bag with me but I left it on the flight to Frankfurt. I did, however, take the one on the flight to Chennai.

The last things I found were the remote control, oh the magical remote control, and the headphones in a flap in the armrest. This was how I commanded every bit of comfort I requested on the flight. The remote controlled nearly every feature of my seat. It reclined back, moved my butt forward or backwards, and lifted my legs. I could increase and move the lumbar support and give my lower back a massage at the touch of a button. I had access to about 63 different movies and documentaries (I chose to watch Surrogates starring Bruce Willis, meh), flight information (about 37,000 feet in the air, the temperature is about -40°F. It just so happens that is also -40°C so if you didn't know, now you know the common point on those temperature scales), music, and video games. If I turned the remote over and on its side, it was essentially an elongated Super Nintendo controller. Think of it in the same way you do a sideways Wii controller looks like a Nintendo controller. I had nine different games to choose from – one of which was Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? (if you know trivia outside of America). In the first five questions, there was one about famous cricket players. I used my lifeline and the lifeline said, “I know this! It’s D, of course!” Oh, of course.

I call Krista to tell her of all the cool things my mechwarrior cockpit has to offer and over the intercom the attendant tells us it is time to take off. I hang up the phone and three blogs in I haven’t even left Detroit yet.

Blog 2: “A pet goat, perhaps?”

Today was the day I was definitely going to India, January 25, 2010, whether I got to take my scheduled route or be rerouted through some different airports. We left our house once again for the Detroit airport, but instead of my mom, Krista’s mom joined us. Oh, and we did not go to Moe’s Southwest Grill. Instead, my final meal outside of the airport in America was Moe’s leftovers. Awesome.

We got to the airport and instead of parking in the Big Blue Deck I was just dropped off outside the terminal. This was in an attempt to shorten the regularly scheduled Emotional CryFest 2010 from 30 minutes down to a respectable 4 minutes. I walked into the terminal, waved to give one last goodbye and walked up to the ticket counter. The agent from yesterday immediately recognized me and gave a quick wave and acknowledging nod. I smiled back and gave my passport to the nearest open agent. She printed my tickets out, enrolled me in Lufthansa’s frequent flier program, and told me the location of the Lufthansa business lounge. I made my way through security and was all set in less than a half hour. I was amazed at how quickly I got through this terminal, especially considering when I flew out of the older terminal this one replaced I waited over 45 minutes just to get to the front of the security line. I felt like I was in line at Cedar Point for Millennium Force – “30 MINUTE WAIT FROM THIS POINT.”

Well, now that I was on the other side, the only thing to do was find the bathroom, then check out this business lounge. After aiming my stream at the little bullseye stickers they placed in the urinal for me, which for the record is a job I am glad I do not have, I headed out to the business lounge. Wait no, after washing my hands with soap and water and singing “Happy Birthday” to myself to make sure I washed long enough, I headed out to the business lounge. Okay, you caught me; I didn’t sing “Happy Birthday” to myself. I just washed with soap and water and then I headed out to the business lounge.

The business lounge is pretty sweet, but it was only the prologue to the novel that was my experience in business class on Lufthansa’s international flights. I walked in, handed my ticket to a lady behind a desk and she directed me to the right. There was something going on to the left, but apparently it was not for me. I guess that side is for first class, maybe? Let me just say though, that if my entire experience is what Lufthansa gives business class passengers, then I cannot imagine what they give first class passengers. A pet goat, perhaps? Well, if that is it, I am glad I did not fly first class.

Inside the business lounge was an array of comfy looking chairs, seats, and some tables all arranged in columns and rows. At the front, there was a snack bar with various goodies like [insert food here] salad, mini breadsticks, crackers, etc. I was a little disappointed by the spread at first, but hey, it was free. I looked to my left and found a fridge offering different Coke products and, duh duh duh, beer. I grabbed myself a Warsteiner (my choices were Warsteiner or Sam Adams) and headed back to my seat and improved my winning percentage in FreeCell. Take that King icon that watches my cursor’s every move.

Another traveler entered the lounge and sat next to me. He walked up to the Buffet of Slight Disappointment and came back with this pasta stuff that I completely passed over while I was up there. After doing two or three double takes at the pasta tossed ever so delicately in a tomato sauce with diced chicken sprinkled throughout for good measure, I got up with a mission to find this pasta. Mission: Pasta Find ended fairly quickly when I found one of those banquet style metal serving trays built into the counter. There it was, the pasta I had longed for (for 12 seconds) displayed with a peppy little bowl of shredded parmesan next to it. Peppy? What a terrible adjective to use there. I grabbed a Sam Adams this time and sat back down to eat the pasta. Let’s just say that the Buffet of Slight Disappointment turned into the Buffet of Slight Fantastic-ness featuring That Pasta Stuff.

I wolfed down two bowls of the pasta, feeling satisfied and ready to fly. I gathered up my belongings and headed to the gate. I took a seat and called Krista and my dad. I told Krista of the glorious pasta and she, as the veteran Germany-bound Lufthansa flier, reminded me that Lufthansa would be feeding me on the plane as well. Oh boy, I get to eat more? This could be a problem. It ended up being a small one, but I’ll get to that in another blog.

The announcement came overhead that it was time to board. The gate agent called business class and I looked down at my ticket. Seat 15A, here we go.

Blog 1: “…and they both chuckled a bit amongst themselves.”

Welcome to the blog chronicling my exploits in Chennai, India. I was hesitant about doing this because any other time I have tried to utilize the Internet as a forum to express myself and only myself, AOL deletes my 5 years of hard work or I just get bored with it and stop doing it. Let’s hope that does not happen this time. In fact, the only reason I am doing this is because I was poked and prodded into doing it. By poked and prodded, I mean Mark said “You should blog about your trip.” So here I am…

I guess it only makes sense to start at the beginning, which was January 24, 2010. I was all packed and ready to head up to the Detroit airport with Krista and my mom. Since my mom had never had Moe’s Southwest Grill and because I have an intense love affair with Moe’s Southwest Grill, we decided to stop at one in a Detroit suburb. It only makes sense that I have Moe’s before I leave the country for approximately 38 days. After a half-hearted “Welcome to Moe’s” greeting, two Funk Meisters (one with steak, the other with chicken), and a basket of free chips and salsa, we were on our way to the airport.

We pulled into the Big Blue Deck next to the brand spanking new North Terminal and park the car. It is funny how “brand spanking new” can change depending on the context. The North Terminal is about a year old or so now and I still call it brand spanking new. Those Jelly Bellies that have been sitting in my Jelly Belly dispenser for the last year or so are not so brand spanking new. In fact, they have a slight stale-y funk about them. But I digress.

I unpack all of my luggage (one 59.5 lb blue rolling suitcase and my laptop bag) and start to the terminal. My mom and Krista come with me so we can have Emotional CryFest 2010 or something before I head through security. As we are walking across the bridge from the parking lot to the terminal, I notice on some monitors that my flight has been delayed a bit from a departure time of 6:59PM to 7:05PM. That would be all fine and dandy except for the fact I have a connecting flight to catch in Frankfurt, Germany. Add on top of that, the layover in Germany is only an hour so I’m already nervous about making it.

I get to the ticketing booths and a nice young lady greeted me. I handed her my passport, she says “Final destination: Chennai, India?” I responded in the affirmative. She looked over at one of the other ticketing agents and they both chuckled a bit amongst themselves. She turned back to me and said, “The flight to Frankfurt is currently on a 50 minute delay.” I then asked her if there was anyway I would make the connecting flight and she informed me that the maximum they ever make up in the air for that particular flight is about 25 minutes… So no.

I was taken over to another agent because they had a couple options for me. I could either, come back tomorrow and take the same flight and hope there would not be another delay OR I could take the flight that would be leaving the gate late, hop a flight to Mumbai, then get to Chennai. Waiting the extra day or hopping on a couple different flights, both would have gotten me into Chennai on the same day, a few hours apart. Plus doing all the flight hopping would have me taking lengthy layovers in both Frankfurt and Mumbai, neither of which I wanted to hang out in very long. My boss and I agreed, I should just wait the following day and if we run into the same situation, then I would just do the Detroit-Frankfurt-Mumbai-Chennai flight.

So, I went home and watched the Jets lose and the Saints win. I think you can tell what matchup I was hoping for in the Super Bowl this year.