And so it begins.

At the airports (all of them) I was nervous. Overly nervous would be putting it lightly. I’m not too sure as to why though. I think maybe it’s all because I haven’t flown much. It’s not the actual flight that gets me it’s the customs I find to be a bit crazy. The first flight was not an issue and went off with no problems. The second flight on the other hand did not go so well. As we were about to leave on a 14 hour flight the pilot come over the intercom and said it was going to be a wonderful flight, and that there was no way that we were going to be late, for there was a tail wind that was super duper amazing.

Twenty minutes after that he came on again and said there was some sort of baggage issue and we couldn’t take off, not worry we’d still be early. 45 minutes after that he came on and stated that we’d still make it on time. Can you see were this is going? Because, an hour and fifteen minutes after flight time we still werent’ off the ground and he said he would let us know as soon as he knew. Two hours of sitting on a plane that I inevitably would be sitting on for fourteen hours the pilot returned to give an explanation and the details of our up coming journey. The reason that we couldn’t take of was that there was a problem with the new software that they were using. Apparently all flights must be proportioned correctly in the baggage area. This proportioning is done through a computer system based in Phoenix. Here we are in Chicago waiting on an information database to tell the pilot it’s all good.  And we were off.

The overnight flight wasn’t bad. I mean it could have been much worse. Although it was a tight fit and I swear after this if I ever go on a flight that long again it’s gonna be at least business class. I must also note this was the smoothest landing I have ever been in a plane for. Without the sound it was barely noticeable that we even landed. There was actually applause for it.

The next leg I had to check in with customs, check in with the new flight, and find the gate.

It sounds easy, and now that I have been through it I could do it again with ease and less angst. The worst part I think was after out exit of the plan the walk to customs was enormously long. Walking from a downtown parking garage in Cleveland to Cleveland Browns stadium I think would be about the right amount of time and length of this walk. Long enough to really, really psych yourself out and make things really unnecessarily nerve racking.

So after I get the passport stamped, lose the dudes pen cap (making him rather annoyed) I got my bags and went looking for baggage check. Customs was really light. I only handed a guy a piece of paper that was it. Customs check over. While this search for I for a check in that look nothing like the check in I am used to I get waylaid into a “visitors center” they then give me a paper with English on it times and plane numbers, but for the life of me unintelligible. So, as I am attempting to get out of the visitor’s center I hand my English yet undecipherable get out of jail card to the India military gentlemen. Who only says, Bangalore!? You better hurry you only have an hour!”  

The next uniformed man, who had to be able to here the last uniformed man, took my paper reluctantly I forced it upon him just so I could ask… Where do I GO? Just then in the largest airport that I have ever been in the power goes off. The amazing part isn’t that the lights went out it was the reaction of the people in the airport.

In short there was no reaction to the lights going out. Things just kept going, there was no computer lag once the power was restored, and the entire place didn’t see this as out of the ordinary. The unaffected uniformed man 2 said go to G.

As I ran, about looking for a G that wasn’t there, I swear the letters went from D to H so I randomly went about looking for India Air, which had way to many check ins. This wasn’t helped by the lack of information on their screens. I just had to go up and show them the paper, and they would point further and further down. I finally reached the letter D and found the place I was supposed to be. I had to go through another carry on bag check, and then I was finally able to get to my gate.

And? It was the wrong gate. It was in reality the next gate over, but this pissed off the guy checking the tickets. I am in the end a stupid American, or just like customer service in America, there are stupid people everywhere.

Then this plane is delayed almost identically to the first one only I’m not in the plane thank God. Once on this plane this was probably the best flight out of the three in terms of comfort and hospitality. This flight was super sweet because we unloaded on the tarmac like all those sixties and seventies movies portray. This trip solely based on that was worth it hands down.

So after I was transported to the baggage claim and got me bags I became worried to not see a sign with my name out it. In fact it scared me to death.  I was late, about three hours late now, and I thought maybe my ride had gone home. I had my plan though I was ready. I was just going to get a taxi, get a room, and call someone in the morning. But Alas there was a troth of people out side and all of them had signs.

There it was my name, and I was saved. This was my first experience in the only thing I can describe as India’s organized chaos. Well, the whole find the check in was chaotic, but I blame that on in experience more so than to India. This was a mess of people all milling about in there own direction bumping into no one. As we walked to the car and had scant conversation, we approached what I assumed was or line of cars. I saw the small little van off in the distance, and began to mutter, “oh please let it be that one let it be that small little van over there. It was our ride, oh sweet mother of Marry it was our ride.

This small little van was sweet, and even better it smells just like my 74 Beetle. That car had a very distinct smell, and still does to this day. I have no Idea what it is, or how that smell is created. I think I want it to remain a mystery. The most interesting thing is the longer the car is on the road the more distinct this smell becomes. I was loving it.

The roads here are bad, and the traffic is worse. It’s pedal to the metal horn blowing chaos, the horn is just simply a way of saying hello I’m here, don’t do anything stupid.

The views coming into Bangalore are interesting. You have modernity with ancient and very old tradition on top of one another. It’s daunting to grasp at first. The run down huts, and the out of date shops with 4G HERE! Signs in the windows. At night it looks very run down at night without people.

We finally arrive at my room, and I must say it’s quaint, but very nice. And I’m willing to bet that here in India it’s posh even. Gopal, and there will be lots more with Gopal said he would be by in the morning about 9, and that concludes the entrance into India.