Another week, another trip to Delhi on
Air India. This time I had to be somewhere at 8am, so I flew up the
previous evening and cashed in some Starwood points for the Maurya
Sheraton (probably the best value Category 2 property out there).
11 March 2003
AI 304
Boeing 747-237B
Mumbai Chattrapati Shivaji to Delhi Indira Gandhi International
===============================================================
The flight was due out at 320pm, so I left home immediately after lunch
for the quick drive to the airport. Arrived at Terminal II-C just before
2pm and headed over to the domestic checkin counters where the only
employee on duty was about to head out at the end of his shift. The
international terminal that bustles like an Egyptian bazaar when the sun
goes down was an absolute ghost town by day. I hung around for about 10
minutes but since no replacement was forthcoming, I decided to schlep my
way down to the international counters where I located a supervisor.
The supe apologized for the problem and gave me the bad news that we
were going to be delayed due to a technical snag with our assigned
747-337 Combi. On the bright side though, our replacement was going to
be my "big brother", one of the last 4 remaining 747-237Bs in the Air
India fleet. As these are in all-passenger configuration, this meant
that we needed additional crew and the delay was coming about as they
were called in from home. This also meant that I would not get a chance
to sample the new Business Class seats which will not be installed in
the dinosaurs of the fleet.
I was finally checked in and photographed, receiving my boarding pass
for 3K together with a lounge invitation. I headed through the special
"domestic immigration" checkpoint where my boarding pass was affixed
with the appropriate red stamp, handed in my "domestic customs"
declaration and headed on to the Maharaja Lounge.
Air India has 2 lounges at their Terminal II-C in BOM, one located just
beyond customs on the checkin level and the other located next to gate
19 on the transit level. Although the latter is slightly larger, the
former is my favorite for a number of reasons. It is very tastefully
decorated in Rajasthani style with soft beige colors and comfortable
lighting. There are shower facilities available, as well as a kitchen
that is staffed around the clock in case you desire a snack while
waiting for a connection. TV monitors flash departure information in
extra-large type so that you don't have to get up from your seat to read
them and are located all over the lounge. There is also a "music
listening area" where you can take a cubicle and choose from a wide
collection of Indian and Western music as well as conference facilities
and cubicles with Internet access. Finally, there are television sets
located all over the lounge. This was key, because Australia were
playing New Zealand in the Cricket World Cup and everyone wanted to
watch!
A waiter came around as I settled down and offered me a drink. I asked
for a Coke, and he brought it along with a plate of freshly made chicken
sandwiches. Most of the folks were congregated around the bar at the
other end of the lounge where the big screen TV was located, but I
settled myself on one of the corner couches with a regular TV set and my
laptop. My only gripe with the lounge is its lack of windows (the entire
airport has no publicly accessible windows facing the airside, allegedly
for security reasons), but on a visit to the mens room I discovered that
there is a panoramic view of the tarmac available from the corner stall
for those diehard plane fanatics who can stand the odour and the
ambience.
Time passed quickly as Shane Bond ripped through the Australian batting
lineup and I caught up with some work. Due to resurfacing work on the
main runway 09-27 until 5pm (the shorter runway 14-32 is not available
for Boeing 747s), our departure was rescheduled for 455pm. Finally 430pm
rolled around and one of the staffers came by to inform us that the
flight was now ready for boarding. I dragged myself away from
Australia's innings with the scoreboard reading a shocking 87 for 7 and
headed down to gate 16. Security was typically efficient and even though
I was randomly selected for secondary screening, I was aboard the
aircraft within a few minutes with minimal hassle.
Today's aircraft was VT-EGA named Samudra Gupta. The aircraft was named,
as all Air India's 747 Classics are, after an ancient Indian emperor.
Samudra Gupta had been the patriarch of the Gupta dynasty and ruled
India in the fourth century AD. His reign is notable because of his
rather controversial (even at the time) Aryan supremacy policies within
his kingdom and his wars of conquest to enforce them. But I digress...
My boarding pass was checked at door 1L and the friendly Air Hostess
escorted me to my seat 3K in the nose of the aircraft. We had a fairly
full flight today with all but one seat in the lower Business Class
section filled, and I assume a similar load upstairs judging by the
steady stream of passengers heading up the spiral staircase. Luckily for
me the vacant seat happened to be 3J, so I was able to spread out
nicely. Economy Class was wide open, but that was a result of the last
minute substitution of an aircraft with over 100 extra seats. The crew
came around with pre-departure drinks (a choice between Coconut water,
sweet lime juice and watermelon juice) as well as a choice of hot or
cold towels. Nice and refreshing in the afternoon heat.
Doors closed at 455pm exactly and we pushed back as I watched an Air
Mauritius 767 pull into a gate further down the concourse. The safety
demo was screened as we taxied to runway 27 where the resurfacing work
was still going strong, despite the fact that it was now past 5pm. We
held short of the threshold as a Gulf Air 767 came in to land on the
cross runway 14-32, but as 515pm rolled by the workers on runway 27
still had not moved. Suddenly, a man hops out of a parked jeep with a
cellphone to his ear and starts gesturing frantically at the workers and
pointing at us. Good lord. Did it really take him 15 minutes to realize
that the giant 747 waiting on a runway behind him was there because it
wanted to take off??? The folks packed up their equipment and skedaddled
within minutes, showing efficiency that is only seen in Indian workers
around closing time.
We waited as a ratty old Alliance Air 737-200 came in on 14-32 across us
and then rolled onto the active runway and opened up throttles without
delay. No matter how much thrust modern engines can deliver, there is
absolutely no sensation of power that even remotely compares to the good
old PW JT9D engine on a takeoff roll. It starts with a whine that
quickly develops into a deep throated roar and leads to a steady build
up of G forces as you accelerate down the runway, rattling along like a
can on a string with the vibrations until suddenly you break free from
the earth and climb into the sky, free as a bird and yet another example
of the wonders of physics.
It was a lovely cloudless day in Mumbai and we climbed out over the
beaches of Juhu with a panoramic view of the city unfolding beneath us,
shimmering like an oasis through the pollution, smog and heat. We turned
north and set course for Delhi as the earth below us turned from
overdeveloped urban to abjectly rural as only an Indian landscape can do
in such a short time. As we flew over Gujarat, the crew came around with
the snack service. Today's choices were either some veggie concoction
(which I didn't even bother considering) or a chicken tikka kabab
platter (which I picked). It was excellent, with the perfect tenderness
and spice.
The green fields of Gujarat yielded the brown deserts of Rajasthan as
Samudra Gupta steadily hurtled through the blue sky, carrying me towards
the nation's capital. I relaxed with a drink and looked out of the
window as I had done so many times over the years on this very aircraft
and so many of its brothers. I was struck with an overwhelming feeling
of nostalgia. My entire childhood had been spent growing up on these
planes. They were like family to me, their names as familiar to me as
those of my cousins. Shahjehan, Vikramaditya, Rajendra Chola.... they
personified a perfect mix between the exotic and the familiar. So many
times had I as a young boy stared in awe at them across a rain-soaked
tarmac in Frankfurt or Tokyo or Nairobi as they taxied along under the
reliable power of their JT9Ds. And now, just as Samudra Gupta flew me
into the twilight of an Indian evening, he too approached the twilight
of his long and loyal career with Air India. In all likelihood I would
never fly on this plane again as the unglamorous routes it is banished
to in old age rarely correspond to my travel patterns. Today, fate had
conspired to throw Samudra Gupta my way and I would make the most of
this encounter with an old, beloved friend.
I took a walk. I strolled the length of Samudra Gupta from nose to tail,
pausing to soak in the atmosphere. Memories came flooding back to me as
I passed through the aircraft. Here sat the 5 year old for his first
landing into Kai Tak. There is the lavatory where the 12 year old was
horribly airsick in Rome. The galley where the 7 year old stayed awake
the entire redeye drinking can after can of Coca-Cola. As I walked back
towards my seat, the Inflight Supervisor stopped me. He said that I
looked familiar and verified my identity. I confirmed it with a smile.
My mother had trained him when he joined Air India 30 years ago and he
inquired about her. We chatted for a while and then the seatbelt sign
came on. I returned to 3K as we descended into a Delhi evening and
touched down safely. Samudra Gupta had delivered me yet again. We taxied
to the gate and I was one of the first to disembark. As I stepped onto
the jetway, I turned back and kissed the outer skin of the aircraft to
say goodbye to my friend. Even though I may never fly on Samudra Gupta
again, he will always soar through the clouds in my heart and in my
dreams.
11/12 March 2003
New Delhi, India
=================
I walked through both immigration and customs without anyone so much as
glancing my way, emerging into the arrivals area where I made a beeline
for one of the TV sets to check the score. To my utter surprise,
Australia had not only managed to convert the despair of 87/7 into a
somewhat respectable 206, but they were in the process of destroying the
Kiwi batting to boot. I headed outside shaking my head in disbelief and
caught a cab to the Maurya Sheraton.
My cab driver was a very friendly sort and chatted with me all the way
there about my travels and interestingly enough, about cellular phones.
It was an interesting ride as he educated me about the special
promotions that each provider was offering right now. He seemed pleased
that I had thrown my lot in with Orange, but thanks to the crappy
support they have provided me recently that made one of us.
Checkin at the Maurya Sheraton was interesting. SPG awards are booked
anyway on the Corporate Floor, but as an SPG Gold I was entitled to an
upgrade. Additionally, I also had a one-class upgrade certificate from
the Sheraton Plus program that I intended to use and had requested in
advance. To my surprise, the front desk had no clue about either of
these policies and had to make a phonecall to figure out what was going
on. After muttering in Hindi (which I don't think he realized that I
understood), he came back to me and told me that my room on the
Executive Floor indeed already reflected the double upgrade. Rather than
argue the matter, I expressed skepticism but accepted the assignment. I
did however request a late checkout that was granted for 530pm the next
day.
The room itself was comfortable but nothing particularly special. I
worked for a while and watched Australia polish off New Zealand for a
very convincing victory. That team will be extremely hard to beat.
Around 9pm, I headed down for the dinner buffet at the Pavilion
restaurant. This buffet has received excellent reviews for the food, and
I concur with that assessment. However, the denizens of Delhi are
animals. They are loud, obnoxious and have no idea how to control their
kids. The poor restaurant staff were going crazy as one child ran around
the buffet tables, helping himself to food with his fingers and
neccessitating the replacement of the entire dish as a result. Other
folks pushed and shoved in the buffet line, reversed direction and
totally messed up the flow or (and I'm not making this up) kept the
serving spoons with them after helping themselves. Nonetheless, the food
was excellent and almost worth the other hassles.I headed back to the
room after a good meal and turned in.
The next day was spent primarily dealing with work and I only made it
back to the hotel around 5pm after a highly unproductive and frustrating
day. Air India had flights back to BOM at 915pm, 955pm and 1005pm, so I
decided to aim for the earliest one in the hope of getting back home
before midnight.
12 March 2003
AI 814
Airbus A310-304
Delhi Indira Gandhi International to Mumbai Chattrapati Shivaji
===============================================================
Unfortunately the presence of some vague VIP or the other caused one of
those typical Delhi traffic jams en route to the airport, so what is
usually a 20 minute drive wound up taking longer than an hour. I finally
arrived at the airport around 730pm. To my surprise, I saw a big crowd
by entrance gate number 3 with a line at least 100 deep to get into the
building. Those familiar with Delhi will recall that your travel
documents are examined at the entrance to the building to allow only
passengers to approach the checkin area.
Closer inspection revealed that the line was not moving, and consisted
exclusively of Japanese tourists. Evidently their tour bus had dropped
them off here, but the tour leader with their travel documents had not
arrived yet so security would not let them in and told them to line up
to the side. Accordingly, they neatly blocked the entrance for everyone
else. Only a marriage of Indian bureaucracy and Japanese patience could
have produced this ironic stalemate as an offspring.
I strode confidently past the tourists to the front of the line where
the balding, potbellied security officer was sitting on a stool sipping
from a stainless steel cup of tea while his loaded submachine gun swung
gently from his shoulders. I offered him my ticket which he proceeded to
examine upside down before waving me through with an extremely bored
expression. Check-in was smooth, but alas Business Class was booked full
and I was assigned seat 24G in coach on the 915pm Airbus. I had the
option to stick around for Samudra Gupta again on his way back from
Tokyo an hour later, but decided that I wanted to get home more. So much
for true love.
The only international departures at this hour were from the other wing
of the international terminal (Royal Nepal to Kathmandu, Turkmenistan to
Ashkabad, Kazhakhstan to Almata and Uzbekistan to Tashkent) so there
were no officers manning the immigration checkpoints on this side.
Accordingly, a line was developing with the handful of domestic
passengers headed to Mumbai on the trio of Air India flights. Bah, said
I. Lines are for the proletariat. I lifted the flimsy chain that
signified that the lane was closed and walked through to the Customs
desk beyond. The officer seated there simply smiled and stamped me
through for both "domestic immigration" and "domestic customs". Needless
to say, the good folks standing in line soon followed my example.
Interestingly enough, our assigned gate today was the rarely used gate
11 which also serves as the high-security gate when VIP passengers are
traveling. The jetway has two entrances, one that opens directly to the
landside VIP lounge (bypassing customs, immigration and baggage claim)
and the other that opens to the arrivals corridor through a small door
beside gate 10. For departures, gates 10 and 11 share a separate
departure lounge with its own security checkpoint. With only 25
passengers joining the flight from Delhi today, the staff at this
checkpoint had plenty of down time. They used this very productively to
gather around the TV sets showing Kenya playing Zimbabwe in cricket,
leaving one poor sod to halfheartedly conduct the entire screening
process himself.
Once my person and belongings had been suitable certified as
non-threatening by the solo screener, I headed over to the TV sets
myself and joined the rest of the security staff. Kenya had been the
Cinderella of this World Cup and they were about to pull off another
upset over Zimbabwe, with the fringe benefit being that this would
ensure that India avoided playing Australia until the finals. We watched
in awe as Maurice Odumbe gave us one of the most impressive displays of
offensive batting seen in a long time as he carted the poor Zimbabwean
bowlers to every corner of the field. As the match ended, there was a
unanimous consensus among us that Kenya was a new cricketing force to be
reckoned with.
While we were watching the game, the rest of the passengers (only 26
joining at Delhi for the domestic tag leg to Mumbai) had filtered into
the departure lounge. Finally just before 830pm, our aircraft was seen
on short finals from Dammam, Saudi Arabia before touching down and
taxiing to the gate. Today's plane was VT-EVH named Tungabhadra. She is
one of those planes that has been around the block a few times.
Originally built in 1988, she served with Wardair in Canada and later
with Canadi>n Airlines. After Canadi>n phased out the A310s, she was
purchased by Polaris and leased to Kuwait Airways during the post-Gulf
War rebuilding phase. Following that, she served in Lebanon with Middle
East Airlines until 2001 when Air India acquired her on lease. This
would be the first time that I would be flying on her, so I was pleased.
Boarding commenced around 9pm and the passengers were quickly herded
aboard with minimal hassles. Business Class was full but there were
barely 100 passengers in coach, with all but a handful in transit from
Dammam. The crew came around with packages of a mango drink as a
pre-flight beverage while we pushed back. The safety demo was screened
during our rather lengthy taxi to the runway and the captain welcomed us
aboard with the news that we would have an extremely turbulent ride down
to Mumbai with a flight time of just over 90 minutes.
We were airborne just after 935pm and the turbulence soon began. The
crew did an excellent job of serving the meals (I picked the lamb curry)
without bringing the carts into the aisles and virtually all the
passengers had finished eating before we hit the worst patch over
Gujarat. I tried to watch the video magazine being screened on the
overhead monitors, but the constant bouncing made me feel rather
nauseous so I closed my eyes and relaxed with one of the music channels
instead.
After what seemed like an eternity we began our descent into Mumbai and
relatively smoother skies. Our approach to runway 27 was somewhat
tentative and we touched down hard, bouncing once before decelerating
and turning off just before the Indian Airlines terminal. Unfortunately,
all gates were full at Terminal II-C so we were assigned a remote stand
which we taxied to, pulling in beside an Indian Airlines A320. The
stairs rolled up and I disembarked quickly, but not quick enough to
catch the first bus back to the terminal. Accordingly, I had a chance to
stroll around the aircraft under the watchful gaze of security before
the next bus arrived and loaded us up. Neither immigration nor customs
even looked at me as I strode past waving my boarding pass with the huge
"D" for Domestic on it. I was in the car park within 5 minutes, heading
home for a few hours before leaving for London the next evening. Such is
the life of a traveler. |
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