Saturday, 7 May 2016

Airport Humour!

"It's the journey,  lad,  not the destination",  Pip repeated to himself. Miss Haversham spoke these words to make Pip's journey in wooing Estella an adventure rather than it being a cumbersome agony. 

Airports are living classes in sociology. Human  behaviour at it's best and worst. With air travel no more a privilege for the rich and famous, people from all walks of life, carrying their own definition of lifestyle choices adorn the airports- thank God for lowering oil prices,  airlines market being in perfect competition and 'cheap'  carrier aircrafts hovering the industry. 

Airport transit gives me just enough time to do my favourite thing in the world - Observe people and draw my own inference.  No,  bitch,  not judging,  just weaving inferences in my head. So while I wait for Spicejet to make the boarding call, I shall quote from the vivid memories of past airport transits and my exaggerated observation from today.
 
So right now sitting in front of Hamleys,  I see this insanely irritating toddler crying his lungs out to coax his mother to buy him a hideous plane.  Shit! I feel like slapping the child and I am sure the mother is cursing the father of the child for not using a condom on that forsaken night. Wow! Now the child is lying on the ground, raising his decibel even louder.  Fucking hell! Spare the rod and spoil the child,  much? Why can't the mother whack him instead of getting harrowed? Oh! dear God! Why the fuck is she giving her card to attendant? Selling the child and being charged for the same? Blasphemy! Noooooo. She bought her the plane.  "Woman,  are you crazy".  Well,  then we blame Hardik Patel and the likes for creating public nuisance to quench their unreasonable whims and fancies and for the spineless Government to bow down His Highness' desires.  Trust me,  if not Hamleys,  Hardik's training definitely started at a local kirana shop when he fulfilled his whim, against his mother's approv,  to get an extra Parley-G. 
Airport Lesson No.  1- Just potty training your progenies is not important,  discipline them.  Nurture over Nature always. Remember Caliban from Tempest?

From irritating children to nympho honeymooning couple.  Not making this up,  but once on my return flight to Delhi from Goa,  I oversaw a back-from-honeymoon couple (the woman was wearing Chuda and her henna was intact)  watching porn and whispering sweet nothings, Not,  abnoxialities,  to each other.  What the fuck did you do in Goa on the honeymoon? All your carnal desires, I am sure had enough room.  Call me prude or a 'righteous bitch' but I complained about the porn watching to the flight staff and 'morning wood' of the couple was asked to sleep. 
Airport Lesson No.  2- Article 15 of the Constitution  gives you Freedom of Speech and Expression but Article 15(2) also puts restrictions to the above stated Freedom.  Watch porn but not in a public domain.


Excel,  PowerPoint,  Drafts and Timesheet fillers are the relatable muses of the Airports.  'My Boss is a prick.  May he rot in hell',  the expression on the face,  the voice in the head.  Aye,  Aye,  Captain! This clan always intrigues me the most.  Whilst, most of the spectators view them as the protagonists of Suits, House of Lies,  House of Cards, trust me, half the time they are gasping for breath under the cloud of 'created work' by the vindictive bosses.  This breed usually occupies a distant seat at a cafe, a table for two, two is for the files, paperwork, laptop bag. This Ivy School category though consumed in their 'work'  will smell a 'hot chick' from a distant.  And the frustrated testosterone will make way for the most most complex excel sheet on their laptop,  in order to attract the estrogen. Have we not learnt shit from Desperate Housewives.  The plumber gets the booty not the spectacled Investment Banker.  
Airport Lesson No. 3 - No matter how occupied we are,  sexual tension can always be used as a bait to divert attention.  Remember Maneka, the tease from heaven.


The first flyers are pure joys. It could be an aged granny whose grand daughter splurged her first salary to book a return air flight for her dadima who has never been on a plane. The pure amazement and splendour in those 'wise' eyes is heartwarming. Also kids, well the well- brought up ones,  and their button eyes becoming extra large on being on the plane or on the Airport- amusing to say the least.   On a flight from Pune to Delhi, back in time of law school days, a first time flyer Aunty occupied a seat next to mine. After fiddling with the seat belt for a minute she finally made peace by literally knotting it up and covering it with her dupatta. She attentively heard the safety announcements and checked for the safety jacket. And then started reciting Ganesh aarti. When I gave her a confused look,  she said,  'First time. Bappa cha ashirwad aavshayak aahe'. Couldn't hold my awwed smile and helped her lock her seat belt in a proper way. 
Airport Lesson No. 4 - While we take the take age old traditions,  we can totally decorate them our way.


But first let me take a selfie breed. Not denying that I love selfies but I refrain from being a narcissist in the public domain. The Airport selfie addicts confuse with their gimmicks.  "Just made to the Airport. Thought would miss my flight. #runninglatetotheairport".  With that caked face and the well co-ordinate attire your picture and title and the time consumed in taking the selfie and uploading it on Facebook,  Instagram, Snapchat are a Paradox.  
And then there is nonsensical clan who insists on taking videos at the airport. Like capturing the ceiling, architecture, infrastructure, outlets, people. Remember David Headley and his reki videos of Taj. 
Airport Lesson No. 5- The exhibit should match the written description. You can't pass the cat as the tiger.


Airport dresscode followers. So here,  guilty,  My Lords. I like to dress up properly for the transit. Like put an effort to dress up to look casual enough for the transit. This category makes up for all the invitation to the Mile High Club. Not like a Mile High Club exists in India. Atleast,  I don't know of it.  So as far as clothes are concerned,  comfy but sultry,  not pyjamas but linen pants. Casual dresses and not A-line maxis (until and unless you are flying Emirates or Etihad). Slip ons,  wedges,  block heels, Yes. Stilletoes, chappals, No. Mehr Mac, Impassioned,  Yes. Morangie, Comeon. 
Airport Lesson No. 6- There is no occasion which doesn't require dress up. No Bras and no trousers are for home. For the other occasions,  dress up like 'When in France....' You never know if someone is game to paint you like them French girls.


Tell me about your Airport Humour!

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