Indian Ameri



As the monitor threw "You need to contact the agent for further details", I instantly went, "Uh Oh!"
"Sir, I'll put you in standby for the next flight", commented Carolyn.
"So... Can I still run and try to catch the flight?", I asked.
"Yeah! It's in gate 3 B", informed Carolyn.
Pant, pant, more panting, and I slowed at the security check to notice that there was none to verify my ticket (standby) with my ID. A delayed check, the previous person's belt getting entangled in the conveyor, a line awaiting the conveyor to work, some random guy's deo in a bag similar to mine, and what else can happen to delay my attempt to board the flight. Then again, as I was given the freedom to say "Vidu Joooooooooooteeeee" I bolted out, holding my accessories, and the ticket with my ID in the other. As I neared Gate 3-B in the second floor, I noticed that there was no one guarding the gate.
"What the hell? I'm not missing my flight for some oaf's loo break or whatever", I felt, and I slided down the escalator (Escalator sliding ain't that easy compared to a normal stair), landed safe. A dash among the curvy bridge led to 3 security personal, and the flight attendant tagging bigger carry ons. He asked my name...
"Chirra - Last name. C H I." and he handed me a paper which he said is my ticket.
"Whew! I made it", I told myself.
"We are waiting for one more passenger to board. You may go in sir", he said.

The next 90 mins of the flight was all about losing focus, staring onto the clouds, watching my neighbor lady snore, drool, and sometimes even snort, which eventually made me laugh. Then came the important part. We Landed.
And then 3 officials in suits, with gun straps visible over their shoulder blades, barged in with one hell of a style. Apologizing and at the same time, threatening with their mean style, they walked straight towards aisle 23.
23 C was where I was sitting. Then they stood there, watching me. One of them asked, "Can we see your ticket?"
"Hell Yeah, before you end up mistaking me for some terrorist", ran through my mind. My hands ran over my pocket to get the ticket. I gave it to them. All the three scanned simultaneously, as if it was some cheat sheet given in an exam.
One of them then instantaneously took a walkie-talkie and said to the gadgets static, "We have Barney Webb over here." "Can we see your ID?", requested another official.
"Hell yeah again" I thought to myself and showed my license. Immediately to the static he replied, "The ticket got swapped. You can release him"
"Release???? :O WTHeck?" ran in my mind.
"Next time, please check the name in your ticket before you board the flight" requested one of the officials. Confused, I took a look into my ticket and 'yes' it was not mine. It had the name Barney Webb, who, after some information digging turned out to be a latecomer (just like me). Also he made a commotion in the airport I boarded, for missing his flight, coz he can still see the flight in the tarmac. Eventually, I presume that he did something crazy to be detained by the officials and questioned.
Turned out that enquiry went a good deal deep ahead and the airport officials understood that his name was accounted for being boarded the flight, while I, Chirra had been checked in, but not boarded.

"Sweat off my brow", I felt as I found this intriguing detail from the connecting flight official. Then I recapped, and understood why the flight attendant said "Sorry" instead of "Thanks" as I disembarked the flight. He mistook C H I of Chirra for W E B (Letter blind I guess) and gave the wrong boarding ticket.

The second flight was all about being cramped, lost in staring, guessing if the name 'Barney' is the sign I need to be looking for, finding six degrees of separation between Webb & Stintson, what I'd be like if I 'Suited Up' and eventually watching the ice melt in the drink I tried, Hic!!

Old Post Ought to be published: Breaking your leg by hitting wrong, or slip and fall hard on your ass, or stand wrong and swell your ankle, are some of the many options that form 99.99999999% of injuries, that could be caused by hitting an ice chunk on the road. But, I ended up biting my tongue as I attempted the kick. The link between the feet and tongue is a mile long, but somehow that's how things work - ain't it? True Story - The Socrates in me wakes up from the mortuary, every now and then, just to be killed, time after time after time by self. And the dialogue as he awakens goes like, "Ye drink thou potion of death, else, I thy hunt till death" Crazy me...

Somehow I have a feel-good feeling about the ug project I am pursuing. Although I'm the one doing all the experiments as I teach the freshmen, I might indeed use this opportunity to get something simple yet smart for a chapter of my thesis (and a potential communications paper). Prepared 53 samples of stamps for the weeks work (Thats 600% more than the maximum I EVER did before). The calculation for preping tomorrows reaction system alone took about 90 mins. Morro's gonna be hectic'ier' :P.

Ended up going to the UK-Florida Basketball SEC game, made a face tattoo, gave enough Hi-Fi's to this fun loving 8 year old southie, watched the game being won, yelled a lot of invectives in the open crowd, got a lot of endorphines generated, and eventually got tired of the sore throat. Had to use acetone to remove the tattoo (Coz there was no scotch tape in the lab at 2 in the morning).

I still want to know if 'Barney' is the sign I've been looking for???? :eeek
posted by Hariharasudhan Cd at Wednesday, February 11, 2009


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