Frequent Fliers

Last weekend I went to Mumbai. It was a melange of nostalgia, homesickness and missing parents and good food. It was high-pressure at work on Friday evening as I had to send a magazine for publication. I somehow managed to get that out of the door and asked the auto driver heading towards the runway to step on it. A stickler for being on time, I half-run inside the airport, throwing people off their feet like bowling pins as I hit them with my duffle bag. And the flight was delayed!
I sat fretting and cursing as the airplane arrived from Mumbai at the time scheduled for our take-off. Invariantly, the flight took off when we were supposed to have landed in Mumbai. We, meaning all the people waiting, were waiting, and cursing, and being rude to the airline staff. I was cranky since I had not eaten dinner, and a full-fledged meal at 1am did not hold appeal, as my eyes were heavy with sleep. The flight was full, but as I had requested for a good seat, I had been given the first row, mid-seat. The guy next to me was apologising to his sweetheart he was scheduled to meet for dinner. And soon we all fell asleep. But then there was a kid which refused to stop crying. And the parents thought the front row should have the privilege of his orchestrated cries which went on relentlessly for about 40 mins of the 90 minutes flight. I glugged a few bottles of water, and crushed them in frustation. My lens threatened to dry and stick inside my eyes, so I removed them for a blurry vision of the chaos reigning around me. Thankfully, I had no luggage, and merely walked out of the airport; located my misplaced parents and slept on the ride back home.
Last evening, on my return journey to Bangalore, the security at the gate did not allow personal time between mom and me, since Mr Rane and his battalion of political leaders were taking a flight. They even hoarded the orders when I decided to pick a cup of coffee from the CCD stall inside. The lot seemed to have been famished and ordered for one of everything on the menu. This does speak poorly of the in-flight food of Jet Airways...?!
I sat enjoying my Mocha cup and nearly exploded laughing when I saw one of the political leader's well-bred moustache. He had rolled up the edges tightly, and gel-led them to stand up, one inch off his face like two tapestry needles. I went past the security check for hand baggage and thought I saw a familiar face. I was shamelessly staring at the woman as I tried to place who she was, and she was returning the favour. The orange tilak on her forehead helped me place her as the whip-lasher of the K-phenomenon on Indian TV primetime - Ektaa Kapoor. The man standing ahead of me in the line for the bus was not-so-discreetly capturing her photo in his mobile phone to show his family/friends in Bangalore. A non-Bombay-ite was the immediate mental note which popped in my head, and I burst into another fit of giggles behind my hand.
As I got into the transit bus, I noticed a familiar face...again! I turned back, and realised it was not a celebrity this time. It was the guy who was seated next to me on the flight on Friday night. apologising to his 'sweets' for being late. For a second our eyes met, and I smiled. He smiled, and then turned away, embarassed (I think). What is with people being so uptight? I just smiled as a sign of familiarity!
Anyways, I got a seat in the second row aisle with that guy nowhere in close vicinity or sight. I put on my earplugs so my ears wouldn't pop and was blissful for the rest of the flight with muffled voices and engine purring someplace far away. The cab I had called for was also on time, and I enjoyed my journey home getting a blast of cold wind rushing through the rolled-down window.