I'm so tired of traveling...

What a ride it has been so far. Not that I regret much of it, but well… there must be an easier way to travel half way round the world. If I was ever fed up of traveling, it is now, it is now, it is now. Honestly, it’s been painfully long.

After fourteen hours on the plane, my poor little tummy couldn’t take it anymore. I have a headache the size of a mountain and the only thing I can see curing it is sleep.

Any way it all started of with chaos and confusion at our very own airport in Chennai. It’s time someone whispered into the ears of Airport Authority of India that if someone really wanted to bring the place down, there are a million ways to do it. And all the security checking is BS. I brought a tube of lip balm all the way to Paris before someone got it! Security checking is such a pile of bull...

Chennai to Paris wasn’t so bad… Delta is big time cheapskate airline! They don’t serve, as Delta likes to call it “adult beverages” on the India to Paris stretch of the journey. But they make sure they fill you up with nasty aerated drinks every hour like clock work. Delta should learn a thing or two from Singapore Airlines!

The ride till Paris was fine…not much to whine about. But just to make things a little more interesting, I a left a book I borrowed from a certain somebody, on the plane. We deplaned and were on this bus taking us to the main terminal when I realized my hands were empty and so was the bag where this book was. Anyways, we got off the bus and I frantically ran around asking if someone could help me get this book back. Hemmmm… this gracefully aging French guy (actually handsome and spoke descent English! Both don’t necessarily go together most of the time!) got some of his staff to make a few calls, and so began the hunt for the book ….what else can I say, I breathed some activity into their ordinary, boring and mundane French lives!

While waiting to hear the result of the little treasure hunt I set in motion, I saw the lady, who sat a couple of seats away from me on the plane, sauntering in with a book in hand. There just could not have been two copies of that book. It had to be mine….it absolutely had to be mine, so I walked up to her and asked her if she found it on the plane and she replied in a smattering of French and English that she did. Thanking her and the French guy looking for the book profusely I proceeded to the next queue. That felt like a ton (maybe two) of bricks being lifted of my head.

Then again the same sequence of standing in queue, checking bags and persons, and after hearing a million bonjours, I got on the next flight. After it seemed like an endless passage into no where, my tummy barely holding in what ever little I ate, and headache that was threatening to grow into a monstrosity, I landed in Atlanta. After all the flack we Indians get for not standing in line, I was pleased to see some of the Americans (at least from their accents they sounded American) jumping lines and ducking past ropes and ribbons that snaked around long corridors. After clearing immigration which went like a breeze (why does everyone say the immigration officers kick a fuss about things?), which everyone warned me was not the easiest things to get past. I waited for the next flight, and the last leg of my journey.
My head was ready to explode into a million, if not a zillion, bits. And to make things worse I got a window seat that was next to the engine that whrrred forever. I was simply exhausted. All I remember is falling asleep and waking up a few minutes before landing.

After the longest 22 hours of flying and shifting 3 different planes and don’t know how many different time zones, I had reached. Thankfully, I was met by my hostess who got me to my apartment. All I remember then on is popping a few pills and crashing for a few good hours. Having slept off most of the tiredness, I feel better again.