Fruggums

thoughts and thinkings by azhar chougle 
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JFK - BOM in 28 hours

That's right. A trip that should take around 14 hours doubled into 28. Here's the story.

Snowstorm is about to hit NYC so I get out early to the airport. Reach at around 2, check-in, security and hanging about by 3. Flight departs at 6.

We're all on the plane and JFK starts getting raped by snow. It takes two hours to get the plane moving and then de-iced. So we leave by around 8PM. Around half an hour after we leave, JFK shuts down.

Delay : 2 hours

All goes well and we reach Brussels an hour late but that's alright since I still have an hour to catch my flight to Bombay. So we get into the holding pattern over Brussels with visibility at nil. Captain Oliver informs us that we can do this for two hours if we have to. An hour later, Brussels shuts down. 

Delay : 3 hours

So we head over to the alternate airport 10 minutes away.

Liege.

I know you have no idea where that is. Well, a bit southwest of Brussels, Liege would be the transit point between Earth and Eternal Doom.

There's pretty much nothing at Liege airport. Four tortured souls comprise the ground staff and the only excitement around is the large TNT logistics hub. Mainly a freight airport, the place didn't even have facilities to offload luggage. Belgian authorities didn't want us to get off the plane anyways (not even the Belgian citizens, some of whom lived 30 mins away). So there we were, stuck in Liege, sitting on the plane waiting for Brussels to open up again.

2 hours later, Liege shuts down.

So now with both Liege and Brussels closed, the situation becomes pretty aggravating. Note that throughout all this there's a baby crying a row ahead of me. It wouldn't stop throughout the entire flight/ordeal. 

Adding to Liege's reputation of 'Gateway to Hell', it has no food. The pilot was gracious enough to procure something from somewhere (apparently a catering company). What it ended up being was a bun (a third the size of a normal bun) with a slice of ham (the 'non-vegetarian' option) or cheese (the 'vegetarian' option). I wish I had taken a photo of this thing. It was so small you could drop it in the aisle and you'd need a torch to find it. That's what they managed to organize after four and a half hours of sitting on the apron in Liege.

2 hours later (now we've been here for more than 6 hours, still in the plane), the new captain (Captain Oliver exceeded the maximum permissible flying hours for his day) announced Brussels was open. Hey, this is great news! We should be out of here in minutes! The plane was de-iced and then we waited to get going.

But no.

Being Liege, gateway to hell, they didn't have a pushback truck with the adapter to attach to an Airbus (hell has obviously been privatized by an American company). So they had to send for one from god-knows-where.

Well it did finally arrive eventually. Our new douchebag captain didn't realize that the plane would ice up again and he had to begin de-icing all over again after we did push back. This was to be expected.

So we flew the 10 minutes back to Brussels. It was a beautiful 10 minutes though. Rural Belgium, covered in snow, at an orange sunset, and we were hardly a few thousand feet up thanks to our bus-ride-like-trip.

Delay : 10 hours 

So we arrive at Brussels and are instructed to go to B40 to figure out the situation. The flight to Bombay left hours ago, so they had no option but to send us to -

Chennai. Jet Airways being the only airline flying to India out of Brussels.

Of course this flight departed an hour late too. Passing over the Arabian Sea we flew right past Bombay and into Chennai. The next connecting flight to Bombay was around two hours later by the time us JFK people got our bags (absolutely last, of course).

Delay : 11 hours 

And then the flight to Chennai, two hours later. We had to pass through customs and immigration at Chennai before heading to the domestic terminal. At which point we weren't allowed in because we didn't have tickets. The Jet Airways staff was of course, ill-prepared and as confused as a Beanie cap with opposite pole magnets in each rotor. After finally getting in by harassing some trying-to-be-courteous asshole staff guy we get onto this all-economy 737 and begin the one and a half hour flight to Bombay. Half an hour late, of course.

Delay : 13 hours

(License for this image : Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commerical Share-Alike)

Flying into Bombay was a treat actually. We flew right over the tip of Bombay (the docks, Gateway of India, all that) and then circled round into the airport. 

Then finally, landed in Bombay, got the bags, hopped into a cab, bought a bottle of Bisleri en route, and headed home. 

Arrived 14 hours after my scheduled arrival. 

Now most of this was due to weather in Belgium, agreed. But Jet Airways had a big part to play in this mess as well. Picking an alternate airport which is completely unprepared to handle a diverted flight (in terms of equipment on the ground and basic things such as food) was just stupid. That was the main cause for much of the suffering. During the rest of it they managed alright though.

Anyways, good to be home. 

Azhar Chougle | www.azharc.com

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Filed under  //   funny   india   mumbai   nyc   random   rant   travel  

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$15 and a Year of Jail

"The United States incarcerates more people than any other country in the world - by far" (here's an excellent read about that). Today I got a first hand experience of that.

No, I'm not blogging from jail (though I would throw a pretty sick 'Free Az All' campaign online if I was)

A month ago I ordered a roundtrip to Jamaica station for a trip to Canada. Its cheaper and it means I don't have to wait in a line with luggage. Tickets arrive in 1-3 business days, usually.

So when they didn't show up for a month I called to ask them to refund me. I thought this would be straightforward but it isn't. Now, things get lost in the mail. Its impossible for every single envelope to be delivered successfully given the volume of mail USPS handles and the sometimes ragged appearance of the people walking around with the mail. So mine was one of those unlucky ones. Ok, they can grasp that concept, even though this a government company.

They send tickets in unmarked non-privacy (which means you can hold it against the light and see its a ticket in there) plain white envelope. 

A few days later I get a form. The usual regrettance-inconvenience schmitz part and then a form I have to send back. It just scared the wits out of me.

Essentially its a legal document that makes me swear that they're actually lost in the mail and I didn't get them. If I'm lying here, I'm lying to the government. There's a lot of the word 'perjury' sprinkled all over this thing. Swearing is alright, I guess. Its the penalties that really got me.

If it turns out, if the ticket that I don't have i.e. somebody else might, gets used, they can prosecute me and fine me $1000 and... send me to prison for a year.

A year.

That's a ridiculous penalty for cheating a railroad company out of $15. For one if the postman who nicked my ticket decided to use it, there's no way to track the person who actually used the ticket, all that's known is that someone used it, someone lied about getting it, someone needs to go to court.

Suppose these ridiculous threats are just deterrents? Well then, to the person who actually had their tickets lost in the mail and signs this thing for a refund, good guts you got there. I'd never sign this thing. Even if one would never end up being convinced and given a sentence, having to land up in court for such a thing is maddening in itself. They can keep their schmeasly $15.

Think about the loss they were to make if indeed someone did cheat them using this system (whichever mad person it would be). They're hauling an extra 60-100kg (on average) for a few miles. Trains can do that pretty ok without posing much of a severe threat to their operation or others' safety. This unlike people with knives and guns walking around who are the people who happen to go to prison too, like this man who cheated the government out of $15 (which isn't enough for more than a day's living in Manhattan)

Just another one of the tales that makes this country so fascinating to study. 

Azhar Chougle | www.azharc.com

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Comparisons, Analysis

Well, you haven't been hearing much from me have you.

 I've been tweeting once a day, skipping e-mails and not doing much at all in general, not bothering about all the complexities that have shown through on this blog in the past few months.

 It's because when you're back home it all changes back again. I don't need everyone to know what I'm upto because most of them are now a phone call (or a short drive) away. There's no ranting because I have lots of other interesting and fun things to do other than complain and think about things.

 Goodbye.

 Azhar Chougle | www.azharc.com

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Sleepy Hollows

Today I visited the quiet (too quiet, actually) village of Sleepy Hollows, an hour up the Hudson.

I walked straight into Sleepy Hollows Cemetery.

This was the first time I was walking in a large cemetery, and it was... well, scary, a little. It was a typical cemetery day, just like in the movies. Not a single person around. Not one. Large administrative buildings, cars, pickup trucks, all strewn around but not a soul in sight. Following winding paths with naked wretched trees creeping over both sides, you are surrounded only by graves in all directions. Tombstones, so textured, so seemingly brittle, with a rectangular patch of earth in their shadow. One long lost, a few feet below. The wind rustled the leaves on the ground, continuously. It was dim, faint shadows strewn across the paths in front of you. I couldn't concentrate on doing, what I came to the place for in the first place, to take photographs. Because, it was so quiet, you are so aware of yourself in this space, something that never happens in the city. I always turned around occasionally, just to see what was behind me. Large mausoleums with corroded doors just staring at you, wrought iron bars holding them back, almost waiting to burst at you with whoever has been laying there for decades. Fresh roses at the feet of gravestones... I couldn't imagine who came along and left them there. Its so quiet. Drops of rain. You come to a point where you are on the top of a hill, and you are surrounded by graves just flowing down the hill in every direction. Leaves still rustling away, continuously. Almost brushing my feet. Patches of sunlight traveling across the hillsides.

It was a surreal experience. I'll be posting photos soon.

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