Day 1..... I'm in India.

The temperature was barely ten degrees above zero. I dragged my suitcase across the parking lot to where the Van Galder bus stood idling at the Park & Ride on Broadway and Route 51. The large doors on the right side of the bus were open, revealing the cavernous areas located in the bowels of the vehicle used to store passenger luggage while in transit. The driver stood alongside the open doors and blew into his cupped hands, shifting his weight from side to side, both in a useless attempt to stay warm.

I dropped my bags at his foot.

“What terminal?” He asked.

“International,” I said, “and thanks.” I then quickly sought the interior of the warm bus.

Chad had saved me a seat next to him about halfway down the aisle. I stowed my laptop in the overhead compartment and plopped down in the aisle seat.

“You ready for this?” He asked.

I shrugged. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. Doesn’t matter. ” I sighed. “Looks like it’s gonna happen.”

He nodded, and then looked out the side window.

Having apparently decided that all the riders were aboard, the driver heaved the baggage doors shut. One door would slam down, and then a locking mechanism was heard turning into place. All three doors went down and locked with equal amounts of time between each. It was obviously not the first time the driver had done this. There was a definite cadence in the maneuver, a rhythm acquired over many years of repetition.

The driver stomped up the stairs and stood facing the riders. He leaned forward a tad to peer out the side window. Satisfied that no last minute passenger was running towards the bus, he said, “Okay, let’s go.” He then hiked up his pants as he turned towards the front of the bus and parked his ass on the worn out upholstery of the seat. He pulled a handle and the door shut, sealing me inside.

Sealing my fate.

Blocking my last chance of egress. My last chance to escape.

A ting of adrenaline raced through me when I heard the door whoosh shut.  My heart skipped not one, but several beats. I wiped the cold, clammy sweat from my brow. This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t actually be going to India.

But I was going to India. I really was.

And now I am in India…….

I got here on British Airways from Chicago to London to Chennai. Round trip, including layover and bus ride, totaled about 24 hours. The flight from London to Chennai was ten hours. It reminded me of the lyrics “that’s a long time to hang in the sky” from a John Denver song called Starwood in Aspen,

The good thing is that the company splurged for business class tickets. And let me tell you, after going business class, I’m not sure I can ever go back to being one of the riff-raff riding in coach. No comparison.

Private TVs; beds that lay flat; enormous leg room; impeccable attention by the flight attendants; lots of overhead storage; and -- in theory – better food. Actually the food quality, by airline standards, was excellent, especially the deserts. But the selection was not designed for my finicky pallet. On the second flight, the combined choices for lunch and dinner were curry, lamb, fishcake, salmon, or crawfish, none of which I would ever consider eating. As a matter of fact, I became unbelievably nauseous each time a flight attendant prepared or served one of the seafood dishes. The noxious fumes permeated the recycled air of the cabin until everything seemed to smell like some species of aquatic creature unfit for consumption.

I settled for three rolls, two deserts, two glasses of wine, and four beers. And lots of sleep.

Another nicety is that the turbo-fans on the Boeing 777 are incredibly quiet. Other then take-off, engine noise was barely perceptible. But on the first leg, I was seated backwards in the club seating configuration. That is an unsettling experience. I would rather sit facing forward. Just as in life, I prefer to see where I’m going and not where I’ve been.

The entire Sentry Insurance entourage and luggage arrived safe and sound on Sunday morning around 1:30am India time (that’s about 2:00pm Saturday, Madison time). We were met outside the airport building by some of the Cognizant staff (contracting firm we are here to work with). They had taxis waiting and we were soon off to the hotel, which was an experience all of its own. I plan to talk more about the insane traffic over here in a later post, but just as a primer, let me say that we ran three red lights just on the way to the hotel.

And our taxi was not the only vehicle doing such things. We saw others speeding through red lights without a second glance. Seems there is very little regard for any type of traffic law or consideration in this country. Our “hosts” made it crystal clear that we are not allowed to drive while we’re here.

But they don’t have to worry about that. I have no intention of getting behind the wheel of any vehicle. Except maybe one of those three wheeled taxis called a tuk-tuk. Our hosts don’t seem to express any overwhelming enthusiasm for this idea. They just look at me with a rather sour expression on their faces.

“That is not such a good idea, Mr. Dave,” they say.

But for the right amount of rupees, I bet I could find a tuk-tuk operator willing to work with me on the idea. I just need to get out on my own a bit and see what I can stir up……

Right now it’s Sunday night. Because of Republic Day here in India (similar to our 4^th of July, Republic Day is a celebratory day to recognize India’s independence from England – seems like half the world has told the British to go pound sand), the day has been dry.

That’s right – no alcohol sales.

Of any kind!!

This Indian version of a blue-law should clear itself sometime tomorrow…… hopefully. There are eight bars in this monstrosity of a hotel, and I’d hate to think that I couldn’t have a beer in each one of them all because India had grown some balls 50-60 years ago and tossed out the Brits.

With tomorrow’s blog post, I’ll try and post a few pictures. I haven’t taken very many yet, but I’ll dig up what I have anyway. Chad probably has some better ones, but I’m too proud to ask him to send them to me. You could check his FaceBook page – he said he was going to upload them.

I know some of you think that going to India would be a good experience for me. I’m beginning to think all of you were correct. But not for the reasons you think…..

 

Hugs and Kisses to Double L,

Dave.