Today on the list of things that we are not going to address is the elephant in the room. Also, most of what follows is true.
That being said, my inspiration for art comes from people. Those people come from everywhere. On interacting with them I make small notes in the back of my head; not to be confused with the actual notebook that I have in my backpack to literally write it down because experience has shown that I sometimes remember dreams better than the things I’ve seen.
If you’ve rolled your eyes thinking that me saying ‘art’ is pretentious, you’d be mostly correct. It’s like watching a movie that is so out of touch with everything around it that it’s forced to be called Avant Garde. But, but, there is a black and white picture of a corridor hanging on someone’s wall that will make me disagree with you.
With fair certainty, I can say that every 10 posts or so, I reference airports in some way. As a wide-eyed, low-maintenance kid(subjective), airports are something out of the promised land from Pied Piper for me. The time between completing security and prior to boarding is time that is exclusive to you, if you’re travelling alone. I mean think about it. Next to showers, I’ve had the most clarity of thought when I’m inside an airport; although nothing groundbreaking has come out of it, yet.
Today, we have three middle aged men that I came across on the same journey, hopping between aircrafts and airports on my way across the Atlantic, the Arabian sea and pretty sure there were a couple of other water bodies that we crossed along the way. The first middle aged man was Indian. For sake of convenience and historical accuracy, he shall henceforth be referred to as ‘uncle’. So, this uncle, along with twenty other people, mostly a young-ish crowd, was waiting for some delayed baggage. Now, uncle has absolutely lost his shit because it’s apparently disrespectful for his baggage to be late. Some of you have met an uncle at some point in your life; you know the type- entitled, unreasonable and puts on reading glasses to operate a mobile phone with two hands and calls it ‘WhatsUp’. Granted, a lot of people who adapted that technology later in life are guilty of the last one so we’ll let it slide. If you don’t know the type, I have some very interesting people for you; hit me up at your own peril. Uncle was jumping up and down even after the airline gave him free coffee. It was 5:30 in the morning but uncle literally wanted the director of the airport to personally come over and hand him his luggage. He said unironically,
“If he is sleeping, pour hot water over his face and wake him up”
At which point I left because the airline had already lost my bags and I was legit standing around just for the drama.
The second was a nice non-entitled Brit. Everything we’ve heard about how British people are obsessed with queuing, it’s true, all of it. I’ve seen it and it should probably be a law of nature with gravity and the other weird stuff. Imagine, getting out of an airplane in economy and everyone gets up at the same time and reaches for their overhead compartments and absolutely nothing gets done? Now throw ten uncles in the mix. Absolutely terrible right? The greatest resistance to British culture that we’ve shown as a nation is by making queues irrelevant. This one is not about the uncles, it’s about the Brit, who in all the commotion, made eye contact with me and said,
“Everyone has to get out of the same aircraft. It’s not like you lot will be left behind”, even as an uncle pulled a bag out of the overhead, dropped it on an old lady’s head and huffed and puffed about like it was the old lady’s fault for sitting on her seat.
Scratch that. Maybe this is about the uncles after all because the third one is funny to me. So, last leg of my journey and this uncle has absolutely no clue on how to look up information on the boards about gate information. He sees me, color matches with me, figures out I’m Indian because duh and starts rapidly talking to me in Hindi, the popular language in India which I do not understand, and uncle does not seem to know English. The only sentence I can say with confidence in Hindi is,
“Muje Hindi patha nahi”, which is, and you’ve guessed right, “I don’t know Hindi”.
Quick side note; a Hindi speaker once told me, for a non-speaker, I did not have an accent to my Hindi. It was the way it was meant to be.
So, being the good Samaritan that I am and also because I have two hands and have watched a lot of movies, I wave my hands around to help him with the gate and stuff. All through security and random checking, this guy is turning around and smiling at me that it was a surprise that the TSA did not call me over as well.
We finally take off and he’s sitting like three rows ahead of me and as the drinks cart passed him, he said,
“Jack and coke with no ice please”.
Maybe that was his “Muje Hindi patha nahi”.