Culture Shock!
This is an entry I've had in my mind for the past ten days. But, it's 11:30 PM on a dark, hot, humid, and noisy night here in Southern Mumbai and I can't seem to sleep...
It's May 11, 2008...around 8 PM (I can't remember exactly what time it was), Continental Flight CO48 makes it final descent towards what used to known as Mumbai International Airport. A smooth landing, followed by about a 10 minute taxi to the terminal leaves the entire aircraft (which is 99% Indian) in a flurry to get out of their seats and start getting their carry-ons out of the overhead compartments. Finally the aircraft gets to the terminal and everyone jumps out into the aisles to move on with their lives after 15 hours of sitting next to strangers that always fall asleep on their shoulders.
The flight crew thanks one out of every three passengers...and as usual, I just happen to be one of them. So, I get into the chute that connects to the gate and I see HSBC banners all over the walls. I find myself thinking, "Damn, India's smart. They're renting out every available advertising space to these goras (our word for the whities). I walk out into the terminal itself and immediately start pouring sweat. I can't help but wonder why with so much money, the airport cannot afford to turn up the air. Customs is a joke...I basically get my passport stamped and walk through the gift shop to get to Baggage Claim. Once again I think, "That's a great way to make money. MAKE visitors walk through the gift shop." I take a minute to glance over the products on sale and I only see chocolate and liquor. I chuckle to my mom and keep on walking.
The hallway opens up to this huge room. Immediately, I'm bombarded by this guy asking me what flight I was on and how many bags I have. I know it's scam, so I keep to myself and keep following the masses. Getting to the carts, my mom tells me to grab two seeing as how we had 8 bags total. I do so and then try to get to the baggage carousel. I literally cannot even get my foot close to it. People everywhere, humid temperature, and the stench of home. I'm intimidated, but I feel like I've come home after over a decade. My mom bullies her way to the carousel while I stand behind with my two carts with our carry-ons sitting on them. After 15 minutes we realize our bags aren't coming out, so I look around to see all these other passengers going to the left to pick up their bags. I ask one of the other "coconuts" what everyone is doing down at the end. He informs me that if no one picks up their bags within a couple of spins, they put them to the side to make more room and then continues to bitch about how India can't seem to get shit right because there's no AC in the airport. I chuckle and tell my mom I'm going down to the end to see if our bags are down there. I get there, and sure enough there are 4 rust colored bags sitting in the four corners of the stack. I stack them all on one cart and then run some old people over trying to get back to my mom and the second cart.
We unload all our stuff on the x-ray machine and hurry to put it all back on the cart on the other side. Finally...the craziness is over. Now, all we have to do is go outside and look for my aunt's car.
My lappy battery is about to die, I'll finish this up tomorrow night. Happy reading folks
It's May 11, 2008...around 8 PM (I can't remember exactly what time it was), Continental Flight CO48 makes it final descent towards what used to known as Mumbai International Airport. A smooth landing, followed by about a 10 minute taxi to the terminal leaves the entire aircraft (which is 99% Indian) in a flurry to get out of their seats and start getting their carry-ons out of the overhead compartments. Finally the aircraft gets to the terminal and everyone jumps out into the aisles to move on with their lives after 15 hours of sitting next to strangers that always fall asleep on their shoulders.
The flight crew thanks one out of every three passengers...and as usual, I just happen to be one of them. So, I get into the chute that connects to the gate and I see HSBC banners all over the walls. I find myself thinking, "Damn, India's smart. They're renting out every available advertising space to these goras (our word for the whities). I walk out into the terminal itself and immediately start pouring sweat. I can't help but wonder why with so much money, the airport cannot afford to turn up the air. Customs is a joke...I basically get my passport stamped and walk through the gift shop to get to Baggage Claim. Once again I think, "That's a great way to make money. MAKE visitors walk through the gift shop." I take a minute to glance over the products on sale and I only see chocolate and liquor. I chuckle to my mom and keep on walking.
The hallway opens up to this huge room. Immediately, I'm bombarded by this guy asking me what flight I was on and how many bags I have. I know it's scam, so I keep to myself and keep following the masses. Getting to the carts, my mom tells me to grab two seeing as how we had 8 bags total. I do so and then try to get to the baggage carousel. I literally cannot even get my foot close to it. People everywhere, humid temperature, and the stench of home. I'm intimidated, but I feel like I've come home after over a decade. My mom bullies her way to the carousel while I stand behind with my two carts with our carry-ons sitting on them. After 15 minutes we realize our bags aren't coming out, so I look around to see all these other passengers going to the left to pick up their bags. I ask one of the other "coconuts" what everyone is doing down at the end. He informs me that if no one picks up their bags within a couple of spins, they put them to the side to make more room and then continues to bitch about how India can't seem to get shit right because there's no AC in the airport. I chuckle and tell my mom I'm going down to the end to see if our bags are down there. I get there, and sure enough there are 4 rust colored bags sitting in the four corners of the stack. I stack them all on one cart and then run some old people over trying to get back to my mom and the second cart.
We unload all our stuff on the x-ray machine and hurry to put it all back on the cart on the other side. Finally...the craziness is over. Now, all we have to do is go outside and look for my aunt's car.
My lappy battery is about to die, I'll finish this up tomorrow night. Happy reading folks