The Long Way Home
By Melanie A. Katzman
I have a mobile phone, and it’s fully charged. My energetic and loving husband, two kids, and assistant immediately receive my distressed messages and jump into action. I have a platinum Amex card, a ten-year Indian visa, money in the bank, and my basic wits about me. There are public toilets that I can use. I am enduring what will likely (hopefully) result in (only) a 16-hour delay from my expected arrival. I will fly from the third into the first world and pick up my life where I left it twelve days ago. So why am I so agitated?
“Don’t fly Air India,” my Leaders’ Quest colleague warned. But the proposition was too compelling—A business class ticket on Air India is less than one-third the cost of any other airline. “Besides,” as another colleague pointed out, “you get good curry and a flatbed seat.”
Done. And then the fun began.
My direct flight from Newark to Mumbai was cancelled two weeks before I left. I was rebooked onto the same flight a day later, which wasn’t a good solution as I needed to start work on the day I was originally scheduled to land. After many inquiries, my options were: a) a refund b) a direct flight one day later, or c) leave earlier, fly Newark to Delhi, stay on the same plane and then fly to Mumbai arriving on the day I was originally meant to. Option C it was, and I landed later than I intended to despite giving up a half day’s work in NYC and making a stop in Delhi.
If you are like me, “stay on same plane” suggests you...stay on the same plane. Works differently for Air India. “Stay on same plane” translates into “land, gather your bags, leave the plane, exit immigration and go to the lounge where two hours later you go back through security, and immigration, and reboard the uncleaned plane you were originally on.” This happens seamlessly if you can ask many questions and understand Hindi or broken English. There is no announcement on the plane to say what to do when you disembark, and no agent at the gate to tell you where to go. And nope, no signs either.
Twelve days later, as I prepared to return to the States, you might suggest grabbing an elephant and flapping its wings as a preferred method of air travel, but following a week of Leaders’ Quest love and compassion, my belief in the power of good karma to carry me home was so strong, I even checked my one small carry-on suitcase! You could say I got what I deserved.
On Friday, I flew from Jaipur to Mumbai and ran into town for two hours to have rooftop drinks with an associate. We dutifully arrived back at the airport at 11:15pm for my 1:30am flight. We whizzed through the airport as I got my boarding pass for the Air India flight to Newark, and she got hers for Jet Airways to London. After a quick visit to the lounge, I bid her goodbye. When in India, the Leaders’ Quest team just makes things happen. All was looking well, I boarded on time, collapsed into my business class seat, and noted that although my assistant checked the seat maps, and I double checked at the desk, my seat was in fact against the galley—the lovely spot where your back and a drum become one as the “catering” carts are smashed while the plane is loaded. Nonetheless, I was so exhausted I drifted off only to awaken at 2:30am realizing we had not yet moved! “Technical difficulties.” At 3:30am, there was still no progress, and my seat mate said that two TVs were not working in business class. I offered to change seats and give up my in-flight entertainment. He did the same. That didn’t do the trick. At 3:45am, we got the first informative announcement. It will be easier to change planes than repair the one we are on, so they are now going to unload our bags, and the food, and prepare the alternative aircraft. Cool. Not.
I figured I would sleep until we had to shift, but they came and collected headsets, blankets, and pillows. No food or drink had been served. I dozed back off. At 5:30 in the morning they announced that the new plane was ready for us to board with luggage and “catering” and we simply needed to get off the plane and switch.
Okay, not thrilled, but no choice.
Oops. We disembark and there is no agent, there is no sign, there is no indication of what to do and quickly our tired lot realize that there is no escape. We have to go to the customs hall, but once we do we are “out” of the airport’s responsibility, and we have no clue what is planned. You mean we weren’t stepping off our plane and into the adjoining gate retaking our assigned seats and sliding back into our slumbers? Where is our promised plane? And then it gets interesting.
I walk into the packed customs hall and the folks around me are as confused as I am as to what is going to happen. And then…the self-appointed community organizer steps up. He says we can’t leave, nor can we break our group. We must demand information from Air India. Fair enough. But where is Air India? Not a soul to be found. A customs agent comes over and says the Air India staff are just outside the customs hall, we simply need to walk through, but no one believed that—they wanted confirmation of an actual plane. An airline agent appears, says that we have a plane and a pilot, but no staff. We waited too long and now their union won’t allow them to work. Someone thinks they see our pilot and runs to him at passport control. Wrong. Another passenger says that before he deplaned the flight attendant told him, “Don’t leave the customs hall, it’s your only leverage.” So, we wait to hear options. After 30 minutes, speaking barely above a whisper, another “agent” appears and offers: a) cab fare home if you live in Mumbai b) a flight to Jaipur, then Delhi then NYC later on today if there are seats on those flights, or c) a refund.
These choices had limited appeal as getting to NYC was really in everyone’s travel plans. A rumor began that if we waited two hours a new crew could be obtained and then the supposedly loaded, catered plane could take off. We all took a vote. We would stay for two hours for our direct flight. Everyone sat in protest on the floor in customs. Oops. That isn’t going to work. The folks in fatigues carrying guns arrive. We stand. The yelling begins. I am thinking it’s time to split. By now, thanks to my team at home base, my husband has found a flight on Jet Air, and I am sticking around as I have hours to kill, no idea where my luggage is, and as long as this stays safe, it’s good theater. The passengers want an Air India representative with authority:
“The Air India agent is just on the other side of customs, just walk out.”
“Well, bring them here to us so we don’t have to leave.”
“Sorry. We can’t ask them to do that.”
“Let me speak to your manager.”
“There is no manager.”
“Well then there is no agent.”
And so, it went. More screaming, no legitimate options, no plan, no agent. People who could get wireless confirmed that our flight (as shown on the Air India website) had taken off. But of course, we were on the ground. Those trying to get rebooked by phone from the customs hall were told since our flight “took off” and we opted not to be on it, there was no rebooking or refund. Really? This did not motivate me to race out and find an Air India desk, if there was one. How lucky was I that my husband found the Jet Air flight, how fortunate that I had money in the bank to cover the ticket should Air India really not refund our unused ticket. So what if it was in coach, required two legs—one 9 hours, 50 minutes in duration and the other 8 hours long—and so what if I had to wait 8 hours more in Mumbai before I left and then stop in London for a 2.5 hour layover. With this new “solution” I would get back just minutes before the 8th of November ended (11:55pm to be exact) and psychologically that felt good as it meant I would arrive on the original day I was meant to return home. My seatmate and new best pal opted for Emirates the next day, a direct and far more expensive choice. He optimistically rejoined the crowd to obtain a refund.
I went to a customs officer. He said many Air India flights are cancelled but he never saw this rebellion before. As people demanded more info and got none, other customs officers yelled at the crowd for scaring off the management! Making personal contact, I inquired if I would have difficulty getting back into the country in order to leave (e.g., get two stamps on my visa in a quick period of time). My custom agent and now new best friend said it was going to be okay.
I left the crowd, the men with the guns, and the non-agents from Air India, only to find…no agent on the other side. No indication of where my bag might be. I went to the information desk. They sent me to the Air India luggage counter. There was no one there. I went to the info center again, they called Air India, no one answered. I was told it was early in the morning and Air India wasn’t open (?!) Hum. Like one of the fellow passengers observed, given Air India’s cancellation record, providing information and controlling crowds should be a basic competency even if flying planes is not. I walked around the baggage area and found my bag on the side of a belt with no sign and no one minding it. I took it. In sum, we boarded a plane, sat on the ground for 5 hours, were told to leave the plane to board a non-existing aircraft and were then dismissed into a vacuum with no information on how to actually get to our destination. Good thing I wasn’t an unaccompanied minor traveling on my own.
Out on the street I then had to find my way back into the terminal, which was a challenge, but I got to the door for international departures but then was not allowed through as it was “too early” to enter given my flight time. I think I actually spoke Hindi to the guard. He relented. I was in!
But at the Jet Air desk, they didn’t buy it. Too early to check in, no customs people on duty yet. Okay, they must have been out with the Air India staff. On a chair outside check in, I waited. I got coconut flavored banana chips (like pear flavored apple slices?). Two hours later, I managed to join the very long economy queue to get my newly bought seat with no flat bed, no curry, no lounge, but hopefully a way home.
Success! I have a real seat all the way to London, a confirmation number from London to NYC, but no seat assignment as that “has to be done in that airport.” I wait. I board. The little boy behind me is kicking, his parents seem to think it’s okay that his main toy is the tray table bouncing in my back. Fortunately, Jet Air’s intro video doesn’t include directions on how to lock the bathroom door and flush the toilet. I take out my laptop to write this note, and the pitch of the seats doesn’t provide enough room to actually open a computer and fit it on a tray table. This may not be comfy or fast…but it will be the next part of my journey back.