North to South, Here We Come

On Friday, February 12 we left Udaipur at 5am to catch a 7am flight down to Kochi, Kerala. The city felt like a ghost town.  No one was awake, it was pitch black outside, all the tiny shops that line the narrow, windy streets were closed and there was not a single car on the road.  Interesting how something so peaceful could be so eerie at the same time.

For the most part, our travels were very smooth.  We had an hour and ten minute flight from Udaipur to Mumbai, an hour and ten minute layover, then an hour and twenty minute flight from Mumbai to Kochi – all on Jet Airways.  Everything looked to be right on schedule which is always nice. Plus, our bags passed as carry-on’s.  Hip hip hooray!  It makes life so much easier when we can just walk on and off the plane without having to anxiously wait as everyone else’s luggage goes around and around and yours seems to have chosen a different destination.

When we landed in Mumbai, we had to hop on a bus that took us for a fifteen minute joy ride around the airport.  However, it felt like an hour because we were cutting it so close to our next flight’s boarding time.  In America, when you fly domestically with a layover, you depart one flight, walk a few hundred feet to the next gate and then board.  However, in India, for some reason that doesn’t make sense to me (not that it has to), we had to basically exit the airport, re-enter and go through security all over again.  And if you’ve ever been to India, you will know that forming lines isn’t really their thing.  You would have thought they were giving away a million rupees a minute for how long and disorganized the formation was.  I panicked.  There was no way we were making it through all of this in the next fifteen minutes.  As my frustration grew deeper and deeper, I grabbed Vinny’s hand and stormed to the front, politely asking if we could skip ahead given our flight was in the process of boarding.  They happily let us go through.  Ugh, what a sign of relief.  That relief lasted about thirty five seconds until I saw the next line for security that was mind blowing.  At airports, train stations, metro hubs, etc. women and men have to go separately.  I totally respect that.  But please answer me this.  Why are there six lines for men but only one for women?  Oh geez, this is going to make my blood pressure skyrocket quicker than even NASA can handle.  I don’t like to rush, I don’t like to stress and I don’t like to be under pressure when it’s out of my control so all of this tension is a recipe for disaster.  The whole time I have felt like the family from Home Alone (but I’m not leaving a child behind like they did – KEVIN!).  The cherry on top, is that Indians have no awareness for personal space.  Our first week here, I found it so inconsiderate.  But now, I realize it’s just their culture and have fully accepted it (not like I really had a choice though).  They are not doing it on purpose nor are they doing it out of ill will.  Nevertheless, when I am full of anxiety and needing to catch a flight, the last thing I want is a bunch of women putting their breasts on my back or breathing heavily on my neck or using their elbows to push me out of the way.  Two can play that game so watch out because this tiny yet mighty bulldog can be just as aggressive.  Although my bark is much worse than my bite, I promise.

As the loud speaker assertively announced “last call for any passengers flying to Kochi on Jet Airways”, I darted to the front of the line yet again, didn’t ask anyone for permission (I saw a few other women do this so I just followed), went through the manual scanning area and grabbed my bag after it past inspection.  But when I was finally ready to sprint to the gate, I noticed Vinny was patiently standing by for his bag still.  It was just sitting on a table for the guards to do a further inspection.  Are you kidding me?  I was honestly waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out of and yell “you’ve been punked”.  We told them over and over again that our flight was about to take off but it didn’t phase them.  At this point, I was determined to take things into my own hands so I rushed to our gate, told them that Vinny’s bag was being held hostage and asked kindly for their help, which they willingly agreed to.  What was the hold up you ask?  Vinny had a ninja wallet that was TSA approved but not foreign country approved.  What should have taken two minutes to discover took them nearly twenty minutes.  Gotta love their sense of urgency.  In the long run, we made our flight (thankfully) but I could tell Vinny was so sad they took his toy from him.  For those of you that know him well, you know that he doesn’t get overly excited about a lot of things but the ninja wallet sure was special to him.  Oh well, don’t fight a battle you know you can’t win.

Around 11:15am, we arrived in Kochi (otherwise known as Cochin).  As we walked off the plane, the heat and humidity hit you as hard as a defensive tackle in the NFL.  We felt like a turkey roasting in the oven on Thanksgiving day.  Wowzers.  The weather app said it was 90 degrees but “felt like 103 degrees”.

Welcome to the South, ladies and gentlemen!