You know how you get that feeling, that inkling, that someone has changed, been reformed, removed some of their less than perfect qualities, only to realize that they are indeed the exact same, mediocre pile of shit you left them as? Then, you feel a bit daft for thinking that these changes were possible in the first place. You'll have to forgive me because I just read "He's Just Not That Into You," but that is how I feel about Air India.

1st leg of the trip: Chicago to Frankfurt
Flight Duration: 7 hours and 35 minutes - of surprisingly okay service! It was a new plane, touch screen TVs on the seats, and I watches Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 - I know, first He's Just Not That Into You, now Sisterhood 2, who the hell am I? But, I digress. I was so not unpleased that I even ate some of the meal! Hell, I even forgave that we had seats in the middle section of the plane! THE MIDDLE! Previously, this would have been unforgivable. So, I suppose you could say I was on my way to admitting that maybe, just maybe, Air India wasn't so bad.
That was until...

2nd leg of the trip: Frankfurt to Bombay
Flight Duration: 9 hours - of misery. Call me a drama queen, but it all started when the plane took off an hour late. Then, my mother and I were separated. Then, I discovered how small and inflexible our plane straight from the 70s was. The thing still had those awful projectors for the movies. And, in a normal case, all of that might have been forgiven for the fact that I had a seat with no one in front of me; however, I still managed to feel uncomfortable and could not for the life of me get some sleep.

You're probably thinking, "Wow... DQ much?" And, you're not talking about creamy confections, but some of you will understand just how off putting a bad plane ride can be.

And so, I was fooled by Air India's attempts to be better. At the end of the day, they are just like the jerkface you think has changed, but never will. Except, in this case, upgrading to Mr. Right (KLM, Lufthansa, ANYONE ELSE) is a little harder on the checkbook.

That said, we arrived safely, securely, and in a timely fashion to my grandmother's house, and I'm sitting on the balcony - or at least I was when I was writing this - taking in the sights of everyone's laundry hanging, the sounds of obnoxious cab drivers honking, the smell of... well... India, and the feel of the humidity on my skin.

Life isn't too bad... once you get over yourself.

Countdowns and Carry-On Restrictions

There are three days until twenty hours until I land in Bombay's principal airport. I would give it a proper name if it didn't have one that even I have to look at a couple times before I can pronounce. With a long to-do list, miscellaneous toiletries, and luggage surrounding me, I sit down to think. Pushing out of my mind the obvious space issues in my carry-on bag, I wonder: what will the next two months bring me?
Countless trips to my favourite falooda place known as Badshah Cold Drinks, good times spent on the terrace of my grandmother's building, and following my beautiful cousin and to-be bride around as she bickers with her mother over the right way to do her hair or keep her dupatta. Surely, it will be eventful.
But, there will also be days when the heat and humidity are up, my hair is pulling an HMS Bounty, and the fan can't spin any faster. Those days when you simply have to suck it up and become completely engrossed in Bollywood film songs.
Yes, I have a vivid image of what it will be like, but Bombay is not a place to be pegged into a hole, and every time I go back I see more, hear more, learn more, understand more, and feel more than I did the last. Forgive me my fluff and sentiments. The point remains that Bombay will be a sizable adventure paired with a true to life monsoon wedding, and I look forward to almost every minute of it.