Emergency exits

Those who turn up at airports in flip-flops are those who are on the verge of missing their flights or who just had a breakup. While the former frets and fumes, hollers and thrusts their mobile phones at the airline staff faces to prove it was the cabbie’s fault, their pleas falling on unmoving ears as the ticket has already been sold off to somebody else (I have both harangued to be let on a flight without success as well as waited patiently by the counter for anybody to be late – and successfully acquired their ticket), the latter finds a quiet corner outside entry gates and lights up. At most airports these designated ‘no smoking’ smoking areas are car parks or behind a coffee shop; in Delhi this is in plain sight of gun-wielding troopers. And like when every other violation of law happens in the capital, here too they look away. 

Stopover fun – watching aircrafts backing on the apron

I arrived at the Indira Gandhi International Airport more-than-required early – a hangover from the days of ferrying my drone camera for shoots between Delhi and Kerala on most months. The civil aviation ministry tried to regularise drone usage in the country by bringing in aleatory laws and unrealistic stipulations for flying, including registering on a website to seek permission on the eve of flight. Like any rule including long-winding procedural fulfilment, this too was aimed at dissuasion. Here it was, as grapevine went, about curbing usage of a popular brand already in the market to favour the lobby of domestic drone manufacturers who wanted to capture the market before they could get their products right. Or out.

The related laws kept changing much to the chagrin of the sedulous CRPF personnel assigned the task of guarding Indian airports with whom fracas became ritual prior to each flight. Once at the IGIA only I had to leave my drone with a friend who was flight stewardess with the national carrier. Luckily she was around, met me smilingly (all that training and experience) took receipt of my equipment before flying off to Sydney. The law had changed the previous evening, apparently, disallowing anyone from carrying drones. I think it was around Independence Day and security was on high alert; it didn’t matter that I was carrying a drone away from Delhi where Modi would be giving his speech. 

Grin and beer it – 1500 rupee lager in a paper cup

Covid has changed not just the way we fly – kitted up and as rarely as possible – but also the way we look at our fellow fliers – like Amelia Earhart before her Atlantic solo. The airlines too have changed, definitely the way they push gewgaws in-flight, you don’t see too much cart pushing besides for feeding – that time when everybody merrily doffs their illustrious masks and shields and Covid itself steps into the firewall for a nap.

Probably lack of revenue, no airlines though miss the opportunity to milk you at the time of web check in and seat selection – the emergency exit seats which I have always chosen for leg space, which nobody else would touch earlier for being non-reclining today goes at a premium. Now each time the cabin crew asks me ‘sir, will you perform the functions mentioned in the safety manual in the event of an emergency?’ I am tempted to reply with ‘only if you return my money.’ But then I suspect they put the prettiest ones on the job; I just gaze warmly, almost hoping for an emergency to happen so I can do all those things she asked me to. 

A late arriving lady immortalised as warning to others

Some more money-making ideas every airline must explore:

• Charge use of loo, say, a standard 100 rupees for each time. This way the crew will also not turn away other passengers from using the restroom near the business class seats which are sparsely occupied anyway.
• Once ‘George’ the autopilot has taken over arrange for passenger visits to the flight deck. Who wouldn’t pay for a few minutes of sitting in the cockpit? Selfie with the toothsome pilot, manoeuvring the joystick can be extra.
• As soon as the flight settles into the haul, trolleys tucked away and cabin lights dimmed, a part of the crew station should be lit by tea lights. A neat sum may be charged for a date with the cabin crew of your choice. (I know many who will pay for this, including myself.)
• Give passengers the opportunity to access the PA system for a fee, to be kept mandatorily within 10 seconds, say. Use it to propose, aver your on-going, ever-lasting love, call the person next to you a hobbledehoy for not using headphones or wearing his mask properly or tell the hapless mother to shove something into the bawler baby mouth.
• I am sure if card machines work on board then some phone usage will not come in the way of the ‘five by five’ fidelity of flight transmissions. Permit five minute calls, one at a time, for princely fees. ‘Guess where I am calling from…’ I can already hear I go.

If you have any more such empyrean ideas feel free to write in. I will collate them and send them in – hopefully for an early bird offer on suggestion # 3.

‘Hey you asshole next to me, wear your mask’ I’ll go on the PA system

For the first time in (my) aviation history, this airline famed for trying hard to make us all kvell and orgasm at their before-time arrivals cancelled on me. My direct Delhi – Kochi was re-routed via Hyderabad with a two-hour stopover. In such situations there is nothing much you can do except pay Rs 1500 for two pint bottles of beer – that too served in paper cups – and watch aircrafts reversing on the apron. If you are lucky you also get to hit up on a friendly pilot in the smoking room. I was. A ruggedly good-looking chap from Punjab with an ill-concealed sense of humour – just like the matchbox he carried in his cigarette packet. 

Before food break – Covid is in the air (notice diligently worn masks)

The electric lighter in the smoking room wasn’t working and he offered the matchbox and waited for me to light up before he asked me for twenty rupees. Our conversation veered towards the mandatory ashtrays in aircraft lavatories despite the smoking ban on board. 

During food break – Covid has repaired into the firewall (notice lowered masks)

“If you have ever noticed one of the cabin crew standing alert, ready to pounce like a bouncer, then it was me smoking inside,” he said, deadpan face. I laughed because I have been there – a stewardess stood and glared at me with more ferocity than a gorgon guarding her newly stolen child. Another came rushing to inform me that the loo at the other end was empty forcing me to undertake a cross cabin dash. The pilot also prevailed upon me the difficulty of making up for time lost on ground in air – you cannot just floor an airbus and turbulences are mostly unpredictable. He kept a studied silence when I queried about the Karipur crash in Kerala; some days later probe reports were to point out the non-adherence to SOP by the pilot. Flying dirty was not an option when the aircraft had already overshot the final approach by half. He gloated at the newly arrived ones in the room before leaving who were looking puzzled at the lighter and then bewildered at us.

I smoked on smugly before passing around the lit stub.