June 21, 2010
It’s 6:59 pm, and I’m currently sitting at gate C-108 in Newark International Airport. My brother is listening to some rap song on his iPod, while my mother is watching the growing line of people with curiosity, wondering why everyone is joining the line when no formal announcement has been made for boarding.
Our journey to India actually began at 4:30 pm today, when we left our house and entered the New Jersey Turnpike. The main artery of transportation on the East Coast, it was crowded with traffic moving at a slower pace than ususal-75 mph rather than 90 mph. The drive itself was uneventful, with my parents talking amongst themselves, and my brother and I listening to our own iPods. We reached Newark airport, where we proceeded to Terminal B, Level 4, which was designated as the International Departure Gate. There were two Continental gates (Continental Airline’s hub was in Newark, so we would be taking Continental to India), but when we asked the official which gate passengers to New Delhi, India would use. We were promptly informed that the gate was actually two levels below us, aka, where we had parked and then climbed up two sets of escalators because the sign had said that Level 4 was the International Departure gate, not Level 2.
We then climbed down the same escalators we had climbed up, and found the gate. The line was short, and so we reached the check-in kiosks, where the computer told us that we needed a Continental Representative to help us proceed through the process. While we waited, I got into a conversation with another passenger (possibly to Tel Aviv, Delhi, Mumbai or Hong Kong, as all four destinations had the same check-in queue) about the two world cup games that were played: Portugal vs DPRK and Spain vs Honduras. Portugal had complexly massacred the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea, ironically) 7-0. Six different players had scored; the best goal of the entire game? Definitely the goal that star striker Cristiano Ronaldo scored, nearly tripping over the keeper, juggling the ball on his back and head, kicking the ball deftly into the empty net, all culminating in him walking towards the camera with the million dollar smile on his face. The Spain vs Honduras game was less exciting, with the final score only being 2-0. But with Spain being the champion in my bracket, every point and every goal mattered. A Continental Representative finally arrived, and the check-in was completed, only to realize that the baggage belt was overcrowded, so we would have to wait until the baggage in front of us was put on the belt before we could leave. Thankfully we only had to wait for five minutes, and we left in search of a coffee shop. This was Newark Airport, not JFK, so there was only one option: Hudson News. We stocked up on sour gummy worms, gum, and mints, absolute essentials for any sixteen hour journey. The time was 5:45, boarding was at 7, so then we would enter the line for Security at 6:30. With my dad flying out to India a week later than we were, I spent the last few minutes talking to him, reminding him to record all the World Cup games and pleading him to not clean my room while I was gone. Last time he cleaned my room, he donated all my winter clothes (by accident) and through out my favorite issue of the New York Times magazine.
At 6:30, we trudged up the stairs, me lugging my Vera Bradley bag that had both an AP US history textbook (courtesy of the summer course I was taking) and a laptop (for the same reason and to make sure that I could update my blog whenever something interesting happened). When we reached the Security Line, we were directed to a different Security Line, which was thankfully shorter than the first. We said our last good-byes (not tearful, for this was normal-every time we went to India, our dad would always follow us a week or two later), and my brother and I attempted to touch his feet (a sign of respect in the Indian culture). Attempted was as far as we got-as soon as knee level, my dad picked us up and playfully hit us, which the security official who was checking our passports found hilarious. Security was uneventful, taking off my shoes and putting my laptop in a special container, and going through the metal detector hoping that it wouldn’t beep and I wouldn’t be subjected to additional security check in front of all the other passengers.
With security completed, all that was left was for us to go to the gate. We briefly visited the duty-free shops, as my mom wanted to see if a special face wash was available, and me, noticing DKNY’s new perfume (I love you from New York), needed to smell a sample. Of course, with my luck, there was no sample for the girl’s version of the new perfume. We went to the gate, and I opened my laptop, hoping to get in some last minute Facebook-ing, Gmail-ing, and Youtube-ing, before the flight took off. My luck was apparently terrible that day, for I couldn’t access the free Wi-fi. Not content with turning off my laptop and listening to my iPod (I could have just shared my brother’s, thereby conserving my own iPod’s battery power), I decided to type up this blog post on Microsoft Word. Passports were again checked at the gate (redundancy?) and then began the wait to board the plane. Perhaps the only interesting part of the wait was the fact that the cart driver (that transports people around various terminals) made a “beep beep” sound in order to get people to move out of the way.
Oh wait, the announcement for all passengers boarding flight 82 with service to New Delhi was just made (in both Hindi and English, of course). Time to start the 14 hour 50 minute journey.
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