Well it all started this afternoon when Zachy boy picks us up and takes us for the most mind blowing delicious Indian meal in L.A. before our flight. Little pieces of fried pakora vegetables dipped in spicy green sauce, basmati rice blended in saffron, with chicken masala, and mixed vegetable squash curry melted in my mouth. Like butter, telling ya, like butter baby. This savory experience was just the beginning of immersing myself in my Indian roots. Then off we go the the chaotic war zone formally known as L.A.X. airport. Two large suitcases filled beyond capacity with touristy passport security purse dangling around my neck and a fifty pound backpack suffocating me, and we are off to check in. Now I know airports can be quite confusing and I have been told that finding the right baggage check-in counter can be complicated but in our case, it was like a red flag dangling in front of our counter. Just imagine what an outside crowded market place in the streets of Calcutta look like and clearly you can catch my drift as to why we knew exactly which counter was ours. The Air India sign was definitely not even needed to be displayed. In addition, I must say, I was very impressed with the extra tight security at this airport. Initially we not only have to first take our luggage to a separate security checkpoint and then through regular security clearance and beepers like the rest of the airports passengers but for some unknown reason, they decided to rescan every individual that was loading our plane. As I was being searched for the tenth million time before boarding I thought it was ironic that the flight right next to us heading towards Switzerland and another to Germany, had already boarded with no further security precautions. At this moment in time it dawned on me that quite possibly the reason for this is because I was surrounded by people that could easily pass as Osama Bin Laden. “That’s racist Alicia, you bigot!” is what I told my brain but I swear that is the only fathomable explanation I could come up with as to why the security was so stridently targeted on my flight. Meanwhile just when I am about to seriously recheck my tickets to make sure that I am indeed not headed to Bombay, I notice in the mix of all my mom’s relatives a few dabs of Techno German boys and I am reassured we are headed in the right direction. Wow what a sight to see here! We have my mom’s relatives surrounding me and then my dad’s German peeps sticking out like soar thumbs. Believe me you know a German when you see one. Dressed in bright orange bling bling sunglasses, a white addidas jump suit looking concoction, weird red and black Nikes, cologne that infiltrates your nostrils and makes you want to gag, and a fanny pack, yup I thought to myself, this guy is definitely German. Phew, we are definitely on the right flight. Okay so we get on the plane and me being punctual and all am quite content in seeing we are only ten minutes behind schedule. To my delight guess who I get to sit next to? Well his name is Kuhl Deep (cool deep) and that is not his Indian Bollywood rapper name. Have you ever seen an Indian with bright red spiky hair, well I have! Can I just say I am so glad to have Ms. Erica by me because she immediately makes friends with him so I can just put my Ipod in ears and pretend like I have a hearing disorder. He apparently knows a lot of Bollywood movie stars and has invited me to come meet him in India because he has all the hook ups. He even seduced me with flashing at least ten grand worth of Benjamin’s in his pocket to demonstrate that they pay for everything with cash. I am so impressed by his celebrity hook ups and fat cash that I have decided to move to India and have my own Monsoon wedding followed by two little babies with him called Jumpta Shakhur and Rasheed Muhammad. See ya later mom!
So two hours later and Erica and I look out the window to not see us flying high in the sky but instead sitting on the ground at the airport. We have moved oh I would say about umm zero inches so far. What is the hold up? Who knows, all we do know is that security walked through the aisle before we left and that is quite unusual. So finally blast off, we are finally flying high, and dinner should be on its way shortly.
Erica and I have officially decided after dinner that we are joining the India Air Mile High Club because the food was so delicious that it was worth waiting three hours on a delayed flight. Sorry mom I know your cooking is the bomb diggity but from now on I am officially the biggest fan of Air India food! Eggplant vegetable curry, chicken tiki, basmati rice, Indian sesame wafer, and yellow dahl in my tummy and all I got to say is, “Mom get your ass back in the kitchen because woman, you have got some competition!” I am not kidding if my mom ever stops cooking for me I am going to specially order Air India food from the manufacturers. In addition, the other reason for flying exclusively with Air India Mile High Club is because I have just witnessed the one and only gorgeous authentic Indian man on the planet. He is one of the pilots and let me tell you, seeing a handsome non hairy Indian man is like seeing a dinosaur walking down your street. I thought they just didn’t exist. I mean I am looking up at the Bollywood video right now and they are doing their little Indian shin dig dancing and the women are drop dead mouth watering beautiful and the men by their side look like woolly mammoths.
So back to square one about the tea Nazi. Well let me tell you, don’t let Air India’s flight attendant’s petite beautiful figures fool you for innocent sweetness. These flight attendants are evil I tell you! No joke one in particular looks like my mom. Now what I mean by this is, she looks like my mom after she has worked a twenty hour shift in the ER and has come home to my teenage bratty attitude and is chasing me through the house attempting to smack me with a wooden spoon. Everyone knows that when my mom gives you the glare you better not fuck with her. So basically you better have your tray ready and tea cup in hand or this flight attendant is going to make your ass starve. Kuhl Deep thought it would be funny to be a smart ass to my mom’s evil twin (flight attendant) and said something like, “Excuse me miss how can I get a job with Air India since it has such great customer service”? Mom’s evil twin glaringly snarls at him, “Where do you think, on the internet like you would for any other job!” And then she stomps off while Erica clarifies to Kuhl Deep the website to apply is www.red-dot-not-feather-Indian.AirIndia.com Well it looks like we are going to get thrown off the plane in mid air so until then, back to my Bollywood movie and immersing myself in my Indian heritage.
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