The flight that was supposed to take us to Chennai had landed. The passengers were getting out. With eager nervousness, we kept one ear turned towards the address system. No announcement. Even the door to the aerobridge had not been opened. No message about further delay. Then why this waiting? At last, around 9 p.m., the lady announced that people with seat numbers 1 to 20 could start boarding. The wheelchair boys had not returned. Impatient to wait further, we joined this serpentine line, moved, and entered the aerobridge. And there, the movement stopped. For nearly 15 to 20 minutes, we just stood there with aching backs and muscles, trying our best not to listen to the conversation of others covering a wide range of topics from the idiosyncrasies of the boss to claiming allowances, the permanently delayed departure of this flight, how to arrange for conveyance at Chennai, and so on.

And then some wheelchair boys came with other passengers. Is this the definition of pre-boarding? Nobody seemed to be in search of us. At last, we started moving. The final step into the aircraft is always a threat for me. It is always raised just above the floor of the bridge. I have to feel with my foot and then get in. All these 'namaste' and 'welcome' touting hostesses didn’t extend their helping hand.

Both of us were very sorry we had not learned acrobatics. Getting into the seat, you had to adopt some unheard-of yoga posture. The hands holding onto the front seat or accidentally, maybe somebody’s shoulder or head, upper torso arched back at an unnatural angle, awkwardly balancing, and then falling into the seat with the buckle of the belt biting into your flesh. Sitting with a thud and struggling to remove the belt straps from under, figuring out which is whose, and then settling down.

It had rained for around five minutes, and bad weather was given as the reason for the delay. I should accept that the first part of the flight was really rough, troubling more intensely our empty stomachs. As the passengers streamed in, the head stewardess, or whatever she was called, kept exhorting the passengers to hurry up and get seated as soon as possible. You delayed the flight, for which we have to hurry up? What logic.

Continued in 221. Function, Fun, Frolic and Frustration Too - Part 9