jumpy jumpy vitamins

THE LAST DAY. There’s no distinct division between yesterday’s stuff and today’s, so this picks up right around midnight on Valentine’s 2001.

To the NSA people reading this: in the first paragraph, I’m pointing out an obvious flaw in airport security in Chennai. Had I actually tried anything of the sort, I imagine one of the pleasant ‘n’ well-armed military types wandering the airport would have interrupted me, perhaps with a hail of gunfire. (resisting the urge to crack a Cheney joke here)

First, security check — my nasty green monster got a sporting new plastic band, but carry-on was left without. Strangely, though, as I discovered, I could have carried in weapons/explosives/etc. in the carry-on, transferred them to Greenie, and gotten them onboard — the plastic band, while effective on suitcases, was pointless on frame packs. <evil thoughts>

Couldn’t check in for 90 minutes at least, so I settled in with some nice techno and Anglo-Saxon epic poetry. Considered phoning my mom (there! American spelling triumphs!), but since I had/have Re. 1/- in cash on me, and they would only take rupees in cash, skipped that.

Eventually got to queue up for check-in. Promos!

• All passengers got a little heart pin and chocolate or cookie.
• They’d have a drawing for 2 return tix to London (Club World class, 1 up from “World Traveller” or coach) for all those at the gate by 03:30. At this writing, however, I’m not sure if that’s only Chennai< ->London… eep.

Checked in after fending off clowns and filling out paperwork. Got boarding passes for all 3 legs of my exhaustive itinerary and a snazzy tag for the blue carry-on. Say goodbye, Greenie! (Or should I call you Grendel?)

We now jump 9 months ahead in time, because jeem didn’t bother to work any further on the journal during this trip or its immediate aftermath.

(Oct 14 2001 Chicago)
OK — recap —

• Chennai< ->London RT drawing, I lost.
• Flight to London uneventful.
• At Heathrow, I wound up helping a young Jordanian woman (with baby and rambunctious kid in tow) get to her flight. The big challenge: she spoke no English, I no Arabic. We made it, though, with a little help from a Royal Saudi employee.
• Bought the following duty-free:

• Earl Grey, loose, in cobalt blue tin for my mother. Damn, it’s good shit.
• Pint glasses w/four bar mats for Ed.
• Brown Brothers 1997 Merlot. For my father, even though I wound up drinking 2 glasses. Awesome, awesome, awesome wine.

… and thus we stop the “official” record.

• As a result of this trip, Ed has learned never to ask me to bring him some tacky tchotchke from a duty-free shop. This is primarily because the duty-free shop at Chennai consists of liquor and cigarettes; no tacky tchotchkes in sight. So instead he got cheesy pub glasses from the Heathrow Harrod’s.
• I had a little spare time at Heathrow, so I stopped in for a drink. Unfortunately, just as I was tucking into a lovely pint, I glanced up at the monitor to see that my flight was boarding. And freaked.

  Friends, never chug Newcastle Brown.

  Additionally, after chugging a pint of a substantial beer, never attempt to run with a heavy backpack through an airport terminal.

• Later that year, my father tried to claim that the Brown Bros. wine was something he had found online. I was able to disprove his claim, though, by looking them up online and pointing out that they did not ship to the Western Hemisphere at that time. (They returned to the US market in 2004, though. yay!)
• The young Jordanian woman was trying to get to Los Angeles. Apparently somebody would meet her there.
• Once I got to O’Hare… well, it was sleeting. Hard.

  In an attempt to stave off jet lag, I decided to have tea (it was 16:00). Unfortunately, the only thing I could find was Starbucks’ let’s-raid-the-spice-cabinet chai latte. It was VERY hot and tasted nothing like anything I had in India, but I had no other option.

  As I took my first sip, I glanced at the monitor and discovered that my flight from ORD to STL had been cancelled. I didn’t chug the tea, though — hot, remember? — instead I carried it with me as I ran to the nearest customer service counter for my airline.

  I had somehow come away with two heart-pins from Chennai Airport, so after the frazzled young woman at the counter got me onto a later flight on a different airline I gave her one and wished her a happy Valentine’s Day.

  I called home and my employer, then wandered O’Hare for a bit before finding some dinner. (I don’t know why, but I love to wander airports and see all the stuff that nobody else notices.)

  New flight was as uneventful as only flights between St. Louis and Chicago can be. (though I had been awake for over 48 hours by that point, I was plenty caffeinated and on my fourth or fifth wind.)

• When I got home, my youngest brother had TP’d my bed. Having just returned from 3 weeks in a place where toilet paper was almost unheard-of, I was mortified.
• Because I know somebody is going to ask: a jug of water and the left hand.
• After I got back, I specifically avoided Indian restaurants for a couple weeks, because I knew they just couldn’t compare. When I finally did decide to have Indian food again, though, I picked a restaurant frequented by young NRIs (Non-Resident Indians) who worked downtown.

  However, I went back on Ash Wednesday. Right after noonday services.

  Turns out ash smudges on foreheads are starkly reminiscent of bindis…

That’s all for now. I’m working on an omnibus summary of my experiences to be posted when I’m satisfied with it, and will be posting more pics from this trip tomorrow.

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