The Beginning...

Finally the day had come, when I packed my bags, took the taxi that was waiting outside my door and prepared to leave on a jet plane! Although my sojourn at the US of A was on the cards, the process of finally securing admission at a reputed US university and physically going there to pursue quality education, had its fair share of hiccups and road blocks. From preparing financial records, to sending applications on the very last date; from running after banks and loan sharks to getting my visa, I had faced numerous intriguing and mentally draining challenges. But then, I shouldn't be whining like this. Since I happen to be one of those lucky people whose family members have been working day and night to ensure that all processes go hassle-free!

So, on that busy bustling bight of August the 6th, I entered the swanky new terminal - T3 at the Indira Gandhi International Airport. There was a lot of hype about this new terminal and I half-expected to come across loose floorboards and seepage-ridden walls. I kinda lost my faith in New Delhi thanks to all those CWG fiascos that we get to read everyday. But thankfully, I was totally wrong.

Well, this was my first international flight and I can't really comment on the state of affairs prior to T3, but I can say in absolute terms that the new terminal is simply fantastic. The first thing that caught my attention was its sheer size! It is heeeuuuge! And for once, I'm not exaggerating :P. T3 seems to me, as an example of one of those rare places in India, where we have less people to use more infrastructure! Sign of a developed country, perhaps?

As I carried my two humongous pieces of luggage towards the check-in counter, my mind was racing. I was building on a hypothetical course of action, to use some kind of a reverse knapsack algorithm to offload some objects, in the event where the weight of my baggage exceeded the prescribed norms of the airline, which I knew it would. However, I was spared all the trouble and my check-in went hassle-free as both of my bags where dispatched on the conveyer belt even though they exceeded their limits by a Kg or so each.

To a casual bystander, I might have looked like a weird creature, who kept pressing his tummy after every few seconds. Like some one afflicted with obsessive compulsive disorder, I kept feeling my belt pouch, checking if it was still hanging around my waist or not! After all, it contained the most important document, my most cherished treasure, the very proof of my existence on planet earth - my passport! And the last thing I wanted was to lose my passport! 'Coz without that tiny booklet, I am no better than Jason Bourne! (and I don't even have dog tags!)

I carefully made my way to the immigration area. Err..shouldn't it be called 'Emigration', since I am leaving the country? Anyway, contrary to the how menacing and threatening this word sounds, the emigration process was just a mere formality as a sleepy eyed man took my passport and stamped it in a robotic fashion without uttering a single word.

Now with my passport stamped, I moved on to the security check. Thankfully in India, passengers are not subjected to a strip search (strip search = removing belt and shoes and going through a body scanner). And yes, they also allowed me to carry food (pooris that my mom had packed) and a bottle of water. Thankfully, we Indians know the difference between edible food stuff and a weapon of mass destruction :P

After I completed my security check, I entered the REAL T3 - one of the most glamorous and stylish places that I have ever seen! The departure lounge and the way towards the boarding gate can match the grandiosity and elegance of a Taj or a Hyatt. With its soft lighting, plush carpeting and an array of showrooms of up-market brands like Chanel, Gucci, Versace and Swarovski, the T3 gave me a 'feel' of the uber-rich lifestyle. Add to that, you have plush leather sofas and reclining chairs, you have one good combination to pamper the weary traveler! And to distinguish T3 from other international airports, a nice 'Indian' touch has been added everywhere - the tapestries, the paintings and even images of men and women sporting traditional Indian dresses instead of those stick figures for denoting the restrooms.

The terminal is so huge and the boarding gates are so many in number that walking may become a tiresome and futile exercise. So, for already weary travelers T3 provides 3 transport options - 1. The walkways - horizontal moving conveyer belt type thingy (it is great fun to walk on those walkways in the direction of its motion. It gives a feeling of immense joy, when you seem to be running at top speed and things whizz past you, while you are actually just walking slowly! I never found class 11 physics so fascinating :P), 2. Golf cart type vehicles that ferry passengers from the lounge to the boarding gate, 3. Motorized two wheelers (where the wheels are mounted side by side, and the passenger stands on a platform holding a handle). Unfortunately, this fun way of transport is only restricted to the officials and crew members :(



I wanted to just roam around the place and keep taking photographs. But I didn't want to look like a tourist in my own country (yet, I managed to take some photos :P )So, to pass the time, I started using the high speed free internet (thankfully, I had brought my cell phone along, since the password for the net access is sent to you rmobile number, when you register for it), only to be interrupted by a kind old punjabi lady who had some trouble operating her cell phone. Just then I realized that the Jet Airways flight that was heading for Brussels (where I would get down and hop on to another flight to Chicago), was eventually heading to Toronto! No wonder there were so many sardar couples on the aircraft! As I ate my pooris, I amused myself by watching the shinanigans of a group of Spaniards who were running around and shouting and taking a video on their camcorder. Dunno what they were upto!

Finally, boarding was announced and I walked through the complex sequences of ramps and then went abaord the majestic airbus A330. Thankfully, I got a well placed window seat. The inflight entertainment was good. Loads of good movies, sitcoms and other shows on offer (including an English Premier League show! :D). I barely slept throughout the journey. I realized that why most people say that long distance air travel isn't that wonderful an experience. I wonder how taller or fatter people would cope with the rigors of air travel, for I myself felt a little cramped.

In our journey, we passed over Pakistan, Afghanistan, Hungary, Poland and Germany (to name a few) but the altitude and the time of the journey made it impossible to spot what was beneath. But after what seemed like ages, the plane began to make its descent towards the cockpit of Europe - Brussels. Dawn had broken and I could see the red rooftops of the toy like houses, tall spires of the Gothic Cathedrals, the glass megastructures of corporate Brussels, beautiful football stadiums and acres and acres of limitless greenery. 'This is Europe!'

As I exited the aircraft, it was about 6 am local time and the chilly morning breeze gave me the shivers. It was about 19 deg celsius at that time. When I entered the terminal, I thought that it would be a piece of cake to transit to the next aircraft. After all, I just needed to read the signs and act accordingly. Just read the signs? Eh? Well...here's what happened!

I had to go through a security check at Terminal 'B' and proceed towards gate B1 to board the American Airlines flight to Chicago. But what are you supposed to do, if there are two signboards that tell you the direction of Terminal B, but point towards opposite directions! I noticed that a group of Africans were moving towards one of those directions while the Indian contingent moved towards the opposite direction. Instinct told me to follow the Indians, but being a rebel that I am, I chose to follow the Africans! After 10 minutes of walking, I realized that teh Africans were heading towards Terminal A (Well, I really don't know why there were signboards for terminal 'B' that led me towards Terminal 'A'...maybe its a circular arrangement...)So, I backtracked and joined the herd of Indians heading towards Terminal B.

As I stood in the queue, I saw the passengers regretfully parting with thier favorite fruit juices and their expensive perfumes as passengers weren't allowed to carry liquids whose amounts exceeded 100 mL. After my security check (the strip search security check :P ), I headed off to the lounge to do some window shopping. But first, I had to inform my family that I had safely reached Brussels. Unfortunately, not many airports are as generous as Indian airports when it comes to free internet surfing. When I realized that I'd have to pay to use the internet, I thought that I'd rather make a call from a payphone. But for that I needed Euros!

I thought of going to the currency exchanger. But being a souvenir freak, I wanted to purchase some memorabilia that would remind me of my visit to Brussels or Bruxelles as it is locally called. So, I entered the duty free shop and the first thing that caught my eye was - Chocolate! Belgium is famous for its chocolate and apparently, the Brussels Airport is one of the largest chocolate shops in the world! There were chocolates of every variety imaginable, expertly placed on the shelves so that even a casual window shopper is tempted to buy them. A terrible conflict thus began, between my brain and my heart.

Heart : Mmm...chocolate! (Homer Simpson style). Buy! Buy! Buy!
Brain : Holy shit! Look at the price tags!
Heart : Shoplift! Shoplift! Shoplift!

Thankfully, my brain won the battle and eventually, I settled for a well crafted Tintin keychain. Being such a die hard fan of the Belgian reporter, I couldn't resist the opportunity to buy it. Costing 4.5 Euros, it was heavily overpriced, but then it was one of the cheapest ones available. There were also loads of other souvenirs including ones that portrayed the Battle of Waterloo. But the most prominent souvenirs (in terms of quality and quantity) were those of the 'Manneken Pis', Brussels' most famous monument!


I paid ten dollars and got a few Euro coins in return. Now, I made my way to the pay phone and followed the instructions written on it. So, I dialled my home number. The phone asked me to insert a 1 Euro coin (65 odd rupees for a 1 minute phone call! What the !@#$#%^%^). Suddenly something weird happened. Someone from the other end of the line started speaking rapidly in Flemish and after a few seconds of what seemed like a reprimand, the connection got cut! What the hell! I pounded my fists on the machine, hoping to recover that precious one Euro, but in vain.

I then, realized that the phone did not take the entire 10 digit Indian cell number. Instead, it automatically, placed the call at the seventh digit or so. I tried all possible prefixes but nothing worked. I had only one Euro left, so I decided to call my brother. Thankfully, US numbers worked perfecrly fine...Damn this discrimination! :P


My boarding time had finally arrived and I had to face yet another security process, as an officer asked me a couple of questions about my intent of going ot the US. After completing all the formalities, I boarded the American Airlines Boeing flight to Chicago. Unfortunately, in this flight, there were no personal screens. Just 5 screens in each cabin, mounted in the front of the cabin. Not that I had any problems with the visibility. But I had to watch what they were showing, which happened to be an extremely boring Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler starring movie (The Bounty Hunter). This kinda reminded me of our humble volvo buses that ran from Delhi to Patiala!

Beverage service on this flight was much better in terms of frequency and the number of choices. (And drinking those many fluids, I started to empathize with that Manneken boy!) Weirdly though, liquor was served in the Indian Jet Airways flight, while no liquor was served in the American American Airlines Flight. Probably it was something to do with the time of the flight! However, the 'meal' part was a dicey situation. The vegetarian meal that was offered to me contained a Ceaser salad dressing ( a sauce that is made from anchovies! yuck!) Unfortunately, one has to rely on General Knowledge, ('coz you need to know that Anchovy is a fish) to distinguish between what is vegetarian and what is not. There is no concept of the 'red dot' or the 'green dot' to classify food items, over here.

Soon, my eyes grew weary and I fell asleep dreaming on ancient monuments and secret service organizations (btw, I was reading Mathew Reilly's Five Greatest Warriors, before I dozed off!). Suddenly, I awoke with a start as I heard a lot of excited chatter. When I opened my eyes and looked out of the window, I saw the source of all the excitement.

It was the most beautiful sight that I had ever seen in my life! The view of the white snowy glacier, gigantic icebergs floating on a dark blue stretch of water, rivers emerging from glacial melts that meandered through the ravines and terminated at bright blue pools, the crevices runnig through the ground, almost splitting them apart! Although, we were looking at the majestic Greenland coast from miles above, it felt great as the stuff we watch in National Geographic came alive in front of my eyes. The landscape was like a chocolate chip ice cream, oodles of vanilla like snow dotted with chocolate like pieces of jagged rock. It was one hell of a sight!

Once we crossed Greenland, the aircraft moved over the Atlantic Ocean, above Canda and over the great lakes and finally landed at the O'Hare airport in Chicago. O'Hare was once the busiest airport in the world. Although, this title has been snatched by London's Heathrow off late, the O'Hare airport was still bustling with activity. Once, I got down from the aircraft, I proceeded to the immigration counter where I was asked a few questions. I, then proceeded on to the baggage carousel and picked my two luggage pieces which had arrived unscathed (actually, one of them was dented!).

With my luggage in my hand, and my face wearing a weary smile, I stepped out of the airport and put my foot in the United States of America!