ravings, rantings and ramblings
I am voicing this for the first time ever.
In fact, I do think about it when I fly alone.
And that is, why don’t I get a good (or for that matter, a good-looking) travel-neighbour?! This bit of providence is getting me peeved and bitter! Each time that I have travelled alone, in a flight or in a train, I have always had very strange, peculiar, noisy, dirty, obnoxious travel-neighbours.
I am en route to Dubai, as I sit writing this. And my current co-passenger is reason enought to write this. I remember my last trip back when I had a first-timer beside me. He was visibly excited that he was flying and kept calling all and sundry before the disgusted air-hostess frowned him to shut up.
And then when the propellers whirred to action, the bloke giraffed his way across me to look out of the window, if we had already taken flight. And if that wasn’t enough to get me completely cross with the specimen, little did I know that there was more to come.
The moment the craft sped up and took flight, he just grabbed on to both his seat handles, one of which was mine, and pulled hard at them with his eyes tightly shut, it seemed as if he was helping the plane beat the G-Force. The last I saw something like this was when Superman was pulling out a container from the sea which had Lois Lane and her family in it. Though, Supes didn’t show any effort.
Well I had an encore when we were landing. Though he sheepishly said it was his first, I wasn’t impressed. Maybe I wouldn’t have made a point of this, if it was a lady sitting beside me.
But this isn’t the only instance. I had a Rajasthani man sitting beside me who had no idea why was he sitting a spaceship! Neither did the poor soul have any idea why he was given a piece of bread shaped like a crab, or how to navigate in a small plate with plastic fork and knife. It does sadden me a bit, to see the plight of my country-men, but then, right now I only want to concentrate on the fact, as to how or why don’t I get good travel partners!!!
I can smell socks now… yuck! Why… what have I done to not deserve the swish of satin beside me and a waft of Dior? In fact, I always say silent prayers that I get some interesting travel mate.
As the seats were being filled up, I saw this lady in high heeled boots and overcoat and long black, flowing hair… and yes, like any Hindi flick, my mind did fly up hoping that she would ask me “25-D” and I would smile at her and invite her to sit! That didn’t happen.
What happened was a jean clad, gutkha-chewing, first-timer plonked himself on the seat next to me. And the high-heeled hoor went and sat beside somebody else. Lucky bastard!
Now I am seriously going to be believing in karma and the sorts, at least when it comes to flying. Why else would this be happening to be every time around? Why, on my maiden flight to London, there was this British girl sitting next to me, and oh how my heart beat! I was unmarried and feeling lucky. But I had a pesky colleague sitting behind, who kept a check on me every 5 minutes. What had I done to deserve this… there, right beside me, was seated a spice girl, dressed in black, showing off some great British cleavage and sitting on my head was my colleague, who was acting more like a mother would than a friend! Sigh!
Is it my perfume or just bad luck… am not too sure…