The next morning, while still buzzing from the night before, I went for swim after breakfast. The ex was still groggy and refused to leave the hut.
It was amazing. Really it was. I think I was still high, which made it feel even better. I wore my sun glasses in the water.
Then me, the ex and PhD all smoked one last one before we left for the airport.
PhD got into an argument with a young, mustachioed policeman at the Goa airport entrance about how they should open both airport entrances, therefore making everything more efficient and that he shouldn’t just accept the status quo but try to change things! Yes We Can! Jai Ho! I have dream! Friends, Foes, Countrymen!
Clearly the effects of the smoke had worn off.
The ex tried to drag him away but he wouldn’t budge. This lecture/debate lasted 15 minutes. His hindi is only marginally better than mine, so it was with some horror that we left him to it and joined the line for security (X-raying the bags)
Maddening bureaucracy and pointless red tape cripple the Goa Airport. (PhD had a point after all, but don’t annoy a cop just as you are about to board a flight is all I say).
One Goa airport rule is that all airlines have their own security stickers for your bags post-screening. Imagine that – Printing all the different types of stickers for each airline, then managing who is being screened for what flight and then matching the stickers correctly. Logistically it’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever witnessed.
Since my mother made us reach the airport some 2 hours in advance for our flight – She fucking tricked us! She told us there might be lots of traffic and we should leave early! It was a scam. I’m sure of it. There was no traffic. She loves to get people waiting at airports. Some OCD thing – So security weren’t even ready for our flight – Surprise surprise, our bags got the wrong sticker.
When we went up to the check-in counter, the counter lady said,
“Aare! You can’t fly with the wrong stickers on your bags! You must screen them again.”
PhD promptly had a fight with the counter lady. Most definitely the mal had worn off.
“What difference do the stickers make? They are all generic anyway!”
The counter lady seemed baffled, both by the use of the word ‘generic’ and his casual rejection of the immutable laws of the Goa airport. Then he said,
“We’re leaving the bags with you. This is your problem! You made the mistake and you should sort it out for us! Why should we screen them again? Come on guys, we’re going to the waiting lounge.”
I thought, I’m not leaving my bag unattended you madman!
Luckily no one listened to him. No one ever listens to the academics, thank god.
By this time the ex was getting rather hot under the collar. The ex gets very agitated with unforeseen occurrences. It’s so cute.
The ex then scolded me severely for taking that photo above of the mind blowingly hideous airport statues instead of sorting out our luggage issue.
Plus I had 2 lighters in my bag because Goa Airport, unlike all other airports in the world, still implements the ‘no lighter’ policy (even if the lighter is in your checked-in luggage), just because they can’t be bothered to change it.. So I had to open 2 suitcases to hunt for the lighters.
There was a hidden 3rd lighter which I only found back in Bombay once I unpacked! Hah! Take that Goa Airport!
Then we settled down to find some snacks. While we stood in the queue at a food counter waiting to buy some samosas, PhD got impatient, (Yes We Can! Challenge the status quo! Jai Ho!) went off on his own and returned with an armful of samosas.
Unfortunately everyone else waiting patiently in the queue had just been served. So in the end we had nearly 4 extra plates of huge samosas.
I told PhD he really should run for Mayor of Goa.