“Up in the Air”

30000 feet above the sparkling blue waters of the Pacific wafting through the clouds in a Boeing 747 airliner can spur a man to perform one of two things,

a. Sip some Chardonnay, stretch his arms and legs with a smug smile on his face and hum Ace of Base’s “It’s a beautiful life”…

b. Clench his fists in fury and curse inward at anything and everything while simultaneously praying he’d drop down to earth at that instant, parachute or not.

If you ask me, (a)’s commonplace with those folks ensconced in “First Class”. You know, those lucky mother#$%^ers who strut around the world on company’s dime, firing subordinates as they’re lighting up their fat cigars and indulge in insider trading or splurge taxpayer bailout dollars in weekend retreats. Or… as I like to call them, CEOs. And that #$%^in’ Chardonnay? Most likely was forced down on him because the pretty stewardess thought he hadn’t had anything in the last five minutes.

(b) on the other hand is synonymous with the “Economy Class” (or “Cattle Class” if you’re in a bad mood), which I like to believe exists primarily for them honest-to-God blue collared souls (like me) who’re stuck for 16 cruel hours in the middle between a noisy Asian family, forced to ingest raw vegetables posing as vegetarian food and watch half-baked movies on a constantly flickering entertainment console no bigger than the palm of their hand.

Phew! Boys and girls, welcome to United Airlines flight 187 – nonstop service from San Francisco to Singapore.

Sidebar: (a) isn’t just for the high-rollers you know. Lesser mortals like me would’ve still stood a chance if only they’d re-prioritized a few things in their life. Was that vacation in the Bali Islands really necessary when we would’ve been better off dozing to VCDs? Or for that matter remodeling a kitchen that looked perfectly aesthetic to me? What do you think ‘bout that wifey?

For all my bluster, I knew I wasn’t going to be serenading on a magic blanket or something as I lazily picked up my boarding pass. Coach #37D. In bold too. There’d be no mistake. Any dreams I’d of Flight 187 being a Saudi Prince’s harem-on-wings I’d have to trash them now. Along with that stale coffee I’d been holding since morning.

Myth: My travel agent forked $2000 for this ticket. I’d be treated something close to business class.

Reality: Don’t matter a s**t. Even if you’ve donated a few body parts for this ticket. If yours says “Coach” you’d be lumped together with Joe Public in Economy Class in a heartbeat. That means if he’s miserable chances are you too are about to slit your throat.

As ridiculous as it may seem, every time I’m boarding a flight I fervently pray that the seat(s) next to me should be empty. Like the folks who were supposed to be travelling suddenly woke up that morning and decided “Hey! Let’s make Siva’s life easier. We won’t fly today!” Pfft! #37D wasn’t a window nor an aisle. Smack dab in the middle of a 4 seater, three of whom had already seated and chattering away unconsciously in some language I didn’t understand. I could summon all the Gods I knew and hope for a miracle but that family wasn’t going nowhere. I threw a weak grin and somehow managed to squeeze myself into the middle.

Continuing with the ridiculousness, I also pray for the flight to take wings the moment I’m settled. “Let’s go Frank. We’re running late” like it’s my personal limousine! Half the passengers hadn’t arrived yet and the safety videos were still to come. An excruciating 30 minutes passed before the attendants started waving their arms with a foolish smile on their faces. Maybe the Chinese (I think) guy next to me had thing for the videos or thought the movies were about to begin, I swear I’d never seen anyone so fascinated by these. But what irked me more was his console which was left on the flight navigator channel. You know… that irritating thing that shows the flight progress. Why they even have these is beyond me. It moves slower than a snail and whenever you switch it on it’s always like there’s at least 6 hours or more to your destination. Moreover this isn’t a train journey where you can predict your ETA on the stations you’ve crossed. We’ve just passed Cantonment. Be ready to wave to your uncle anytime now. So why #$%^in’ bother? Heck! If I spoke Chinese or were his brother I’d have argued such. Instead I had a sick feeling it was going to stay on for the entire flight. #$%^ I sighed heavily and rested my eyes. The plane started taxiing out of the gate. Hell, I figured was just beginning her opening credits…

Actually the first thirty minutes after we’re in the air isn’t bad at all. Like a kid who’s licking his lips at the array of candies in front of him I’m still awestruck and fiddling with my entertainment console eager to check out all the fun stuff I hope’s going to keep me from losing my sanity. Thirty movies! But… I’d seen most of them while some others simply didn’t seem to resonate “Wow! Now you can watch me”. Same for the TV shows. Other than the few “Friends” and “Two and Half Men” nothing else was worth a laugh. Heart skipping a beat or two, I nervously navigated to the international section.

“I don’t believe it” I let out an audible sigh. No Tamil movies! I love Tamil, all right? As much as a flag bearer I am for its cause I’m probably the first one to stand on rooftops and proclaim 90% of them movies are pure tripe. On land, that is. Up in the open skies, I deem every frame Oscar worthy and want to soak up every bit of that drivel. Bollywood, I accord similar treatment too, except I couldn’t locate any. There were a bunch of French movies that for some reason pissed me off even further. I have a theory about French wine, French food and French movies. And almost all of them involve the use of the word overrated multiple times in the same sentence. “Iron Man 2”, “Avatar” and “Prince of Persia” for the nth time, I sighed again…

But scrambling for movies is just the first part. The second and most important one is food. Undoubtedly. For reasons best known to the airlines, they’re determined to feed you the moment the plane’s reached cruising altitude. Never mind that you’d just polished a king’s feast before boarding or aren’t in the mood for empty calories. I was on a Lufthansa flight once that left Chennai at 3.00am and they were serving breakfast thirty minutes later! Today I hadn’t eaten a morsel since I woke up and my rumbling stomach was ready to scare the s**t of the next few rows any moment. Heart skipping a beat or two (for the second time in ten minutes), I nervously pressed the “Call Attendant” button.

Myth: My travel agent specifically requested a “Hindu Vegetarian Meal” for my comfort and convenience.

Reality: No she didn’t. Maybe she’s Syrian Orthodox and for all I know the only Hindu meal she’s ever come across is a ‘Chicken Tikka Masala’ at some Indian restaurant.

“What do you mean you don’t have a ‘Hindu Vegetarian Meal’?” I gasped.

“Sir, you didn’t order that and we don’t have any. We’re completely full. I can check to see if we have something vegetarian” As taught, she was equal parts firm and polite, neither of which was helping. I wonder if my poor stomach heard that. Stupid innocent me, I was patting the travel agent last night for doing a wonderful job!

Let the record state that I’m a pure vegetarian in all forms of the word. Never have I glanced at meat or seafood and the most I’ve transgressed is egg, that too not on holy days, Fridays and any other days the wife deems “Not today”. I enter a Subway and demand the ‘sandwich expert’ change his gloves before making my veggie sandwich overstuffed with lettuce and mayo. “For the $5 you’re paying I’m shocked you aren’t asking him to cleanse himself with Holy Water!” my friend K would snicker every time he saw me eating a Subway product.

That’s me, so obviously any beef/chicken/salmon entrée with some fancy sounding French name was a no-no. Ten minutes later an attendant handed me a tray and I almost jumped at the delectable chocolate brownie with frosting on top. The rest, two breads with cheese and margarine spread, baked beans and cut fruits, I barely glanced at those. Even a cow would’ve demanded something better!

“Would you like anything to drink?”

“Yes please. Two glasses of wine” Bring me the #$%^in’ bottle you bitch. I shaved off the breads and hung onto every last bit of the brownie, while more wine came my way. If I wasn’t going to be satiated might as well pass out drunk. Exactly what transpired after an assortment of cheap wine and a few glasses of Jim Bean went down. I started playing “Just Wright”, a B-grade movie about some basketball star who got injured and waited to be drawn into a rich dreamful sleep…

“Hi! I’m Siva. And you must be?”

“I’m Catherine. But please call me Cath”

I was literally counting the seconds until the fair maiden sitting next to me would be distracted from her laptop and headphones and here was my reward. Finally!

“Cath it is. Nice name. Where you from?”

“Oh! I’m a lawyer from Oakland. I’m visiting friends in Singapore for a week. How about you?”

“I’m an Application Process Engineer. But I’ll be the CEO the next day.”

Did I just say that? I mean, did I just say that? Oh my God! That didn’t even sound funny in my head!

“Actually I was just kidding. I’m just an engineer. I hope to become manager in a year. But CEO? I don’t think so” Silly joke that required a serpentine recovery. I hoped my hollow laugh helped her understand that I don’t do this often.

“Hahaha! Funny” Lawyer smarts or not, Cath did know to give out the most polite laugh for the most dumbest joke. Which instantly made me comfortable.

“So what’re you reading there?”

“This is a deposition of a case I’m handling. Pretty interesting stuff really” Why was I thinking that it’d be a Danielle Steele novel, I have no idea. I desperately wanted to say something back intelligent like some legal jargon but clammed up. Where the #$%^ was John Grisham when I needed him most?

“I’ve read John Grisham awhile back and found it amazing”

“He’s good. But most of what he writes is over simplified” I nodded vigorously. Of course Cath, whatever your Highness says.

“I agree. If someone wrote about Application Process Engineers I’d be thinking myself ‘That’s not all we do’” I hesitated. That set the cat out of the bag.

“Hahaha! Funny” 100 to 1, that laughter was all genuine. I sat bolt upright now. Daddy was on his way…

Cath spoke at length about some of her past cases and I listened attentively like some star struck teenager captivated by her dimples and the way she brushed her hair after every few sentences. If I’d been watching my Sex and the City’s and subscribing to Vogue, I would’ve said something like “Hmmm! Prada Spring 2009. Wow! Manolo Blahniks. Nice!” She looked like nothing, except a fashion model in my eyes. Did she dip her voice in honey too or was it really sweet? I’m a sucker for long hair in women and the angel in front of me knew how to wear it. Parted in the middle, braided (or was it plaited?) some of it falling in front over her shoulders. God! Didn’t she realize what she was doing to me?

“Would you like something to drink?” I gently interrupted.

“Sure” I beckoned my favorite stewardess for more mine.

“If this were a Château Margaux ’60 and we were having beef bourguignon followed by Crème Brûlée I swear I’d think we were in paradise” I volunteered. If I was going to project ‘classy’ I figured French would be the perfect way to go about it.

“I agree. But I’m more of a burger girl. I love burger and fries”

Stop teasing me! Was she for real?

“I love them too! You know what I love most? In-N-Out Burger. Officially the best flippin’ burger. Ever” I concluded my speech and slammed the headrest for added effect.

“Gosh! I soooooo love them” We were now almost squealing like schoolgirls and I grabbed the opportunity to high five a few times. Silky smooth skin! Petite fingers! Thank you God for such a wonderful creation. We both agreed that we’d do anything to lay our hands on one right now and took turns bashing the worthless airline food.

But Cath isn’t someone whom you just talk inane stuff with. Push the right buttons and the girl’s the most eloquent and charming Barbie doll you’ve ever seen.

“Do I like history?” The question threw me off guard. “Yes I do. I was a pretty good student in high school” wondering what she was getting into.

“Did you know that the Germans…” Cath has this unique way of looking into your eyes with a trace of smile across her lips when she’s all pumped up before starting a conversation. However long it was I don’t know, I sat back enthralled as she enriched me with facts about German warfare, allied deception etc. Not once did I feel like I was listening to Wikipedia and that’s saying something.

“You speak so well. Please tell me no jury has ever lost you a case”

“Awwww! Thank you. You’re so sweet. But I’m not handling trails until next year”

“Damn! Too bad! You’ve just gobbled your opposition” That part was certainly true. More so, if I were the opposing council. I’d be just standing up saying ‘No questions’ and preparing to get her number after the trial.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” I asked. Last time I checked we were still holed up inside an airliner and not in Central Park, but change of scenery didn’t hurt, right?

“Sure”

And so we trekked the economy class multiple times sidestepping a few daddies putting their kids to sleep, stewardess going about their business, folks waiting in line for the restroom and what not. I might not be no lawyer or historian but gosh darn I can be funny when taking potshots at random people. No seat was left unturned and pretty soon I was in a groove coming up with my theories, analyses most of which I was pulling out my you-know-what. Cath played the perfect Robin to my Batman giggling, laughing and stoking my ego. Jerry Seinfeld, Chris Rock and all those dudes could take a hike. There wasn’t no better joke teller at 30000 feet than me.

Perhaps we’d been walking a long time, because Cath suddenly grabbed my hand and said “I’m tired. Let’s go watch a movie” I’d been talking a lot so I definitely appreciated being taken over. I reached for my bag above and pulled out my kicka** laptop, the 19” Dell laptop. My prized possession at work, it had so many cool features, like an array of processors and RAM to run my simulations. But the only thing that mattered to me was the VLAN movie player and two dozen high quality DVD ripped movies that I’d surreptitiously loaded from my colleague.

“That’s a huge laptop” she gushed.

“I know! The damn thing’s heavier than a rock. It’s a better weapon than pepper spray”

Cath selected the chick flick “Legally Blonde” and I made no attempt to mask my excitement. Cath aside, one other blonde I went bonkers over was Reese Witherspoon.

“You too look alike in so many ways” I observed prompting more laughter. Not done with the gadgets yet, I pulled out my dual ear Bose headphones and handed her piece. One ear is enough, I assured her for soaking in all the sounds.

Memo to self: Cath isn’t just a history buff. Dame knows about movies, fashion trends as much the critics in the business and puts it forth with equal verve as the world wars and civil wars.

Halfway through the movie Cath leaned on my shoulder to “get a better a look”. At which moment my spaceship zoomed from the troposphere into somewhere near Pluto’s orbit…

“Sir! Would you like anything to drink?”

What? Ohhh… “No… I’ll have some more wine.” Where’s Cath?

“Sir, I have just tea and coffee. We don’t serve alcohol for some more time”

And then it hit me. That was just a dream. A #$%^in’ dream. “Please… I need some drinks. I’m having a terrible headache” I couldn’t plead any better. I gulped down the bottle as soon as it arrived desperately wanting to get back into dreamscape to continue talking to the angel. Catherine? Cathy? Cath? I’m coming! After an hour or so of twitching and twisting I gave up. Cath had vanished into the ether and wasn’t coming back, even if I’d consumed an entire liquor store.

In retrospect, that’s what great dreams are. Undeniable joy when they last and heartbreak when they end. But then it wasn’t just a dream, you know. I’d just translated my most thrilling and erotic fantasy into vivid high definition color with the prettiest heroine I could ever find. Did I feel any guilty about it? Definitely not. For Christ’s sake, any other red blooded guy’s fantasy would’ve been similar, except instead of Catherine it’d have been a long legged lingerie model whose every orifice he’d have diligently explored while rolling around in First Class. Mine was simply more vanilla and down-to-earth. Holding hands, rubbing shoulders (once) spiced with ample laughter and thought provoking banter. Again, are any of these amoral? Abso-#$%^in’-lutely not! If I ever I’m in God’s court or the wife’s chasing me around the house with a frying pan, I’m sure all of the above should suffice for my airtight defense.

Instinctively I took out my wallet and prised open my favorite picture, my wife standing in our kitchen smiling as-she-were into the camera. She just blew me away. I love you honey. Always. I changed position several times in my narrow seat until sleep took over for the second time. Goodbye Cath…

I don’t recollect how long I was passed out, but I suddenly became aware of strange smells and a murmur of chatter around. “Breakfast time” someone in the previous row announced. I wasn’t exactly hungry but I’d woken to a steady headache and thought maybe the flight attendants had something that could take care of it. I shouldn’t have bothered. Veggies always get the raw end of the stick.

If you must know, omelets in my hometown are made with at least three eggs and the cook going ballistic with onions, salt and pepper beating the s**t out of it with metal sticks, so much so that an entire street driven by its aroma lines to gobble it up. Omelets on my flight meant just eggs. Yes, they were hot, but that was about it. I couldn’t find any vegetables but I had three packets of salt and pepper. Yippee! The rest of the menu didn’t hold any promise. Apparently United Airlines was so concerned about your waistline and cholesterol that there was no chance in hell you could go off the deep end. Not unless you went crazy with a multi-grain bar and cut fruits.

I spied a look at my Chinese friend next seat and found his console still on the flight channel. Big $%^&in’ surprise! “Maybe you should give this guy half his money back. Dude’s been watching nothing but the flight channel” I so wanted to wisecrack at one of the attendants. But… getting my medicine was a better proposition so I buzzed her again. My favorite fairy appeared in a flash with a bottle of wine and Jim Bean. Sheesh! What if I’d wanted some coffee really? I sheepishly grabbed them and settled back to watch Johnny Depp and his pals kick some police butt in “Public Enemies” There’s nothing more endearing to a battered ego than watching Depp show some attitude and #$%^ with the law. I couldn’t take my eyes off his pretty heroine. Ah! Those luscious red lips. Move over Jolie…

“… We’ll be making our final descent into Singapore” This time it wasn’t some pesky stewardess that shook me up, rather the captain confirming that absolution was less than an hour away. He could’ve given an impassioned speech about the trials and tribulations of maneuvering an airplane earlier but it’s funny what the ears hear they want to hear. I had half a mind to spend a fortune and call my wife to tell her that I’d be home soon but held back at the last instant. I wasn’t landing after spending a year on the moon or something, just arriving in an airliner with a few hundred people, so why bother my alter ego reasoned. I concur.

One last ritual dance that everyone’s got to perform is completing those lame immigration and custom forms. I could fly around the world a thousand times yet can’t seem to remember the 8 character word that is my passport number. If I had my way they should be doing away with these, visa and a whole array of forms and just determine if we were a psychopath or a model citizen (like me) by capturing our eye and thumb prints. That’d be my first order of business when I become Master and Commander of the Free World. Take that to the bank. Right now I would’ve given my left arm for a pen, peacock feather or any other writing instrument. Fifteen foolish minutes later when all around me had gone through multiple revisions, I managed to get hold of one and scribbled mine complete. The flight banked left and I let out a satisfied smile as the top of some familiar skyscrapers came into view. Daddy was homeeeeeeee

Minutes before touchdown is when you’re at your most cheerful best since you know whatever happens the damn monster isn’t going back up again. Of course, things could horribly wrong and you could idle on the tarmac for eternity waiting for a gate. Our captain ensured we’d be no part of that and within a few minutes the doors were open at Gate 67. This wasn’t a line where they were offering free smoothies at the Jamba Juice in school. Therefore no need to scamper and trample on a few toes like the rest of the idiots was indulging in.

As I waited patiently I saw a Chinese guy in my adjacent aisle muttering something in Chinese and videotaping himself.

My name is Xiahung Hu. I just survived a 16 hour ordeal a.k.a. United #$%^in’ Airlines. Whom do I talk to for my Congressional Medal of Honor?

I don’t think that’s necessarily what he said but for no rhyme or reason I inched closer to him whipped my phone out and pretended like I was talking to someone while letting loose a string of choice expletives (in Tamil) directed towards the airlines and anyone remotely associated with it. Nice perfect soundtrack, I chuckled. Somehow acts like these seem to buff up my self esteem. Don’t ask me why.

16 hours in a cramped airline packed tightly like sardines you’d think you’d deserve a red carpet welcome of sorts, but economy class aren’t them privileged citizens yet. Lumped together with the rest of humanity I limped through immigration and customs to be greeted by a pretty officer.

“Welcome to Singapore. Enjoy your stay” she cheerfully remarked stamping my passport. Love the spectacles, loaded firearm and the bun dear. But where are your handcuffs? I had half a mind to forget the #$%^ about my suitcase and head home to crash belly up on the bed after seeing the huge crowd around the carousel. What about the handbag for the wife? Sorry! Purse. For some reason I kept referring to everything she carried a “handbag”, which irritated the life out of her. I’d forked over $100 for that pale green distinctively unimpressive one, so might as well get a kiss (and tomorrow’s lunch) out of it I thought as I prepared for another 20 minute delay before our baggage arrived.

One of the worst things an airline can do to a passenger isn’t refusing to serve him gourmet food or not give him a foot massage en route. Rather it’s misplacing his baggage making him go through multiple trips through hell before he knows whether he’ll see them again or get a $1000 check in lieu a few months later. I must’ve done something for good karma despite the terrible service and all because my green scratched weather-beaten V.I.P. suitcase was the first one to fall out. This was a business trip door-to-door so I could arrive home in style in a luxury cab (i.e. “air conditioned”) without getting into trouble with my manager or wife. Head held high I marched towards the first A/C cab like a conquering hero.

 

“Yeah! Yeah! I’ll pay you a few bucks extra. This is your lucky day” I laughed to the driver in broken Malay. Thank God! I hadn’t lost my company’s VISA card on the flight. I thought of the missus, her 1000W smile and suddenly couldn’t stop smiling hoping she’d rush into my arms with that weapon and a made up face as I rung the doorbell…

 

Life Lesson #59a: Those kind of s**t happens only in movies.

 

In reality the father-in-law opens the door with as much enthusiasm as greeting the milkman. Quite frankly, I think he was shocked I stood there blankly. What the #$%^ did he expect? Rush into his arms yelling “Daddy!” or fall at his feet asking him to bless me. I smiled weakly, snaked my way to the sofa and plonked myself in the middle sighing enough to rouse the wife from the kitchen.

 

“Hey! Get ready soon. We need to leave in 1 hour” She was semi dressed up and I sensed it wasn’t for me.

“What?... Why?... Where?” I stammered struggling to get a proper sentence out. That grand plan that I’d hatched during the flight – three beers, kothu barotta and watch some soccer was coming apart at the seams. It’s one thing trying to take on the wife solo but when her family’s around you’re better off waving the white flag.

“The temple. Didn’t you get my email?” she continued. Incredible! Who knew that ubiquitous wireless Internet would come back and haunt you such? With her entire family pointedly gazing at me I apologized profusely because Internet was unavailable during the flight. The right answer would’ve been I didn’t bother to switch on my laptop.

 

“Well… Get ready soon. We need to leave in 1 hour. We’ll be late for the abhishekham” I don’t think the wife cared for my apology, jetlag or general body breakdown. I could’ve clutched my head in the middle of the living room and pretended I was being felled by a migraine, but wouldn’t have mattered an inch. In her mind I needed to get my a** ready for the activities of the day, temple, God and “fun with her family”.

 

Jesus Christ! Three hours sitting cross-legged in a temple with her mom, dad and my bête noire, the brother-in-law… How soon can a man get an economy class ticket in the middle seat to San Francisco?

Peace!

As recounted by Siva in graphic detail with all expletives intact. Siva, it may be recalled is a consummate business traveler who makes regular trips to San Francisco from Singapore for office work. Most of which entail eating at Olive Garden and Baja Fresh, while the rest are divvied up between presentations and working in the “clean room” wearing a suit that looks straight out of a Halloween costume. His apparent distaste for air travel notwithstanding he’s got another trip scheduled to the Bay Area in a few months. Save for a gargantuan bridge over the Pacific that’d allow him to drive I don’t see how this is happening. Unless of course his wife decides they ought to undertake a pilgrimage with her entire family in tow!