And we’re off!

Or rather the chicken, eaten by the woman sat next to me on the plane, was. I have to admit I sway between being a nervous wreck on a flight to a cool, easy-breezy jetsetter. On this occassion, I didn’t fully register which one I was going to be as I was totally distracted about 20 seconds from take off when the lady sat next to me starting vomiting into her lap. It was around the crucial time when cabin crew had taken their seats (everyone’s signal that we really ARE going to take off this time) and therefore no assistance was to be had. Just me, her and the various plastic bags we had both scrambled to open (and mostly ripped in the process) were on board this particular ride. Whoop whoop.

I have to say, I felt terrible for this woman, she was actually very nice and after that we started talking (I suppose you feel somewhat closer to someone once you’ve been in contact with their internal fluids that even close friends and family should never encounter). I wished I could have done something more to help her, but in a weird way (which I joyfully pointed out to her later on), she helped me.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, apart from a few turbulant patches which reconfirmed that I’m still not 100% elated with the thought of being stuffed inside a tin can and being shot up into the sky. I don’t know about you, but long haul flights are typically uneventful (for which we can THANK the Lord) and yet to me there is always a sense of occasion attached to them.

As we all stepped off the plane 10 hours later, we all looked like shit. Sweat embedded hair, smeared remnants of make up, crumpled clothes and above all, smelly. But as we were waiting for our bags, some of the cabin crew breezed past to meet some colleagues at the terminal and I realised they all still looked clean, crisp and ready for a martini cocktail. Okay, okay, so you could argue that they are working; they’re not sitting in a seat and getting soggier with each Father Ted re-run, but they were still on a plane for 10 hours with cabin pressure, dehydration and whatever else it is we blame for making us look so awful. Well I’ve seen the ‘cabin crew only’ cabin between the two toilets. I’ve read the sign saying ‘please close the door immediately after exiting’. I can see what’s going on. They’ve got sky tv, massage parlour and a hot tub in there. Why else would it be so bloody stuffy about half way through the flight?  They’ve put the extra jets on full whack.

Anyway! The weird rant section is over. I arrived in to Chennai at 4:00 this morning and it was already 26 degrees c. I’ve managed to have a few hours sleep in my room but I’m trying to stay awake (and ignore the fact that I feel like I’m on a boat) until this evening to get into a sleeping pattern for tomorrow.

After a little food I decided to go for a walk around the hotel. I was a little confused as to where I should be walking, there seems to be a lot of construction work going on so there is no pavement. There is a dual carriageway outside the hotel (but it’s not that busy) but only one side of the road is in use, so both directions of traffic are picking out their paths, beeping uncontrollably and pegging it. Place me in the middle of that and we’ve got a rather comical picture.

Still, I ventured forth and have had a gentle wander around (not going too far just yet, it’s reallllly hot out there and knowing me, I’d get lost). The one thing that has bothered me, and you’re all going to laugh, is the amount of dogs. For those of you that think that’s lame (and I know it is…) I was bitten by a dog when I was 15 and now I hate the buggers. There were two dogs that sprung out from nowhere and started barking. Of course, they directed their entire rage at me because I’m the one that almost crapped myself at the surprise of the sudden barking, if nothing else. I’m reassured that the dogs just bark and won’t hurt me, it’s clearly just something I’ve got to get over. I remember I wasn’t that bothered by them in Thailand until one evening when we were surrounded by a pack of them in a deserted beach (remember Amy?) and we tried to defend ourselves by taking off our flip flops and throwing them at them. A couple of problems there, really. Firstly, you only have two flip flops per person (the flip flops were outnumbered 3-1), and secondly if-by sheer chance- we hit one of the dogs with them, it would do bugger all. Still, I live to tell the dramatic tale.

I think the beach is about 40 minutes from here so I might go there this evening to check it out. Right now, I’m going to go for a swim (the hotel has a pool…yesssssss!) so that the sensation I have of being on a boat will actually make sense. I must try and remember to take some pictures, I will upload them as I go. As nothing has actually happened yet, I think I’ll pop off.

Well, to anyone who may have taken a vague interest in my trip and started scan-reading after the vomit paragraph, thanks for your time.

Adios!        (Or maybe something a little more Indian..)

xxx