December 23, 2009
The departure lounge is not much of an improvement on the holding area. I have a seat, at least, but here the updates on our delay cease, and time stretches on. I begin to feel uneasy about my onward flight from Bangkok, but I am too cold, too tired, too hungry to worry. I realize that I have had nothing to eat for 24 hours and go to the snack bar, but the display case is crawling with roaches, so I return to my seat to shiver and wait.
I start to listen to the announcements. A man's voice, elegantly accented and beautifully clear, announces the departure of a Jet Airways flight. Another, equally lovely, informs us of a Sri Lankan flight, and a woman calls passengers for Singapore. Then there is a harsh squawk from the PA system. It is a man's voice, an irritated, harassed man, and one who did not do well in English class. “Air India” he barks, and … his message is unintelligible. It is not my picky foreign ears. People all over the lounge are looking around, baffled, asking each other what he said, but nobody has caught a word.
The plane takes off eventually, and I am on it, but later I will remember nothing about it. I sleep. My eyes shut the moment I am tucked into my seat, and do not open again until the announcement of our imminent landing.
A flight attendant, hurrying past to check that our seatbelts are fastened, asks me if she can bring me a cup of tea, even though orders to collect all service items have long ago been given. There is concern in her voice, and her eyes. I realize that she had tried to wake me for the meal, and failed. (The directive to make sure all passengers are served is taken quite literally on Air India. Declining a meal is, as a rule, nearly impossible.) I tell her thank you, but no. My next task will be to see if I am too late to get on the flight I booked the night before, nearly at midnight, and at great expense. I know the chances are slim. My stomach feels heavy. It's full of worry and frustration, nothing more nourishing. Tea would stimulate this ache to a full-fledged pain, so no, no tea. The lady leaves me, but not without a reproachful glance over her shoulder. I have failed at being served.
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