Flights – less of fantasy, more of reality

December 16, 2015

As I ducked into my mosquito net covered bed, I noticed a firefly floating lazily above me in my tiny, mud-walled room.  The steady glow from its behind seemed to be welcoming me, both to the theatre village where I will be staying and into a much needed sleep.

My ‘day’ started in Honolulu, took me through Tokyo to Bangkok where I nabbed a couple of hours of sleep and a welcome shower, then onto Delhi.  Although my ticket out of Bangkok proved hard to find at first, I did make it to India, only to face a series of ‘experiences’ with the last leg of my two day journey.

I had six hours to fill in the airport. Then seven. Then eight. The flight monitor said ‘this time’ and then ‘that time.’ I wasn’t even sure when I could check-in.  The check-in counter was a mess of people with a mess of problems, and lines that hardly moved.  A few people behind me didn’t like waiting and kept trying to direct others how to move.  When I was at front of the line, three men just cut through, having reached their level of patience…only to stand in other lines that weren’t moving.  Which meant, oddly, I ended up at a counter before them.  Pays to be patient and observant.

After check-in, I was sent to the International Departure, for some reason I did not understand, since I was flying domestic. I waited in the passport line, only to be told that I hadn’t needed to.  I waited in the security line, only to be told I didn’t need to be in International.  Back to the flight counter, where they sent me to Domestic.  Another security line, this time followed by a large-bellied fellow who doesn’t believe in personal space.  He pressed himself against me the whole time, as if the line might move faster if his belly pushed hard.

We had several security screeners to choose from.  I tried to choose a slightly longer line to avoid being followed by Mr. Belly.  Didn’t work.  His belly was once more in my back.  That line was a parade of impatient men who nearly threw their bags onto the conveyer belt to get ahead.  And then my bag was rescanned as I needed to remove every cord and electronic device I had: Tablet, Two cell phones, Computer, Camera, Video camera…yikes.

The monitors then read this gate and then that gate.  The gate agent arrived, but the time changed once again.  A couple of men couldn’t take it any longer and engaged the agents in a loud argument.  Many other men swarmed the gate, like moths to a light, adding to or refuting whatever the claims were being made in the argument (I, of course, couldn’t understand what was being said).

Finally, we were asked to go to another gate, which took us down into the basement, it felt like.  More arguments followed, as an airline bus showed up, but we were not yet allowed to board.  Creating an orderly line to board the bus after that was a nearly impossible task.  But we boarded the bus and the plane.  And I immediately fell asleep for the duration.

My hosts were very generous, hanging around for my late arrival.  Then escorted me to their theatre village; a campus they designed and built and use as a kind of dormitory/rehearsal space where they camp themselves when they develop new work.

Driving through the gate onto the tiny dirt road was a kind of heaven after that long traverse across the globe (and through the Delhi airport, thank you very much Mr. Belly).  As we entered the village area, some of the young actors had decided to sing for my arrival.  I was well welcomed with song and flowers.  Dinner in the dark.  Then a chance to slide into my mosquito-protected bed.  It was a lovely sleep and the ultimate ending to a winding and winded trip.