The Airport Taxi From Hell

airport-taxiThere is mystery in the air. Stop whatever you’re doing and sniff the air around you. If you can ignore the fish and the next guy’s sweat, I think you can smell the mystery in the air. I know I can. I think I am being followed by an airport taxi. Everywhere I go and everywhere I turn, there’s an airport taxi lurking near by. I think there is a conspiracy afoot and yesterday, I thought about it long and hard and I have a feeling that I’ve hit upon the truth.

Once upon a time, I was in love with a strange girl from Hawaii. Her name was Yu Suk, and she was perhaps the third most beautiful woman in the world. We loved each other very mush much and though we were separated by more than 5000 miles of ocean, we believed that one fine day we would be together and live happily every after. The long distance relationship proved to be arduous and drained the both of us completely, and I decided to end it. That’s when she decided to fly down to Bangalore and meet me and show me just how much she loved me. I was over the moon!

I dressed up in my favorite yellow T-shirt and blue jeans and drove all the way to the airport on the day. I reached an hour early and paced up and down, waiting for Yu Suk to arrive. I could hardly stand still in my excitement. I was nervous and feeling a bit horny at the same time! I guess it’s natural.

Finally, the flight monitor indicated that the flight from Hawaii had landed and that passengers were at the customs line. I was waiting right in front of the exit gate, standing behind the ubiquitous group of white-uniformed taxi drivers who were holding up cardboard placards with names of their guests written. Slowly, one by one, the passengers from Hawaii walked out into the bright Bangalore sun, shielded their eyes from the glare and searched for their respective receptions.

The taxi driver in front of me was chatting with his colleague next to him about his wife. He was saying, “What can I do, brother? She just cannot be satisfied every night. I feel she’s draining me out!”

To this, his colleague replied, “You want some help, brother?” and winked and they both burst out laughing. I cringed at the crassness of their conversation, but couldn’t help overhearing it. The first driver continued, “If anyone, ANYONE, mentions the S-word again, I’ll kill them personally!” and they both started guffawing heartily. I just figured that the guy was totally and completely asexual and pitied his wife.

Just then, in the throng of the crowd, I saw her! There she was! Graceful and beautiful and as sexy as ever – wearing her favorite yellow tank top over a flowery knee-length skirt that flowed all around her. Her face was the embodiment of all the love and lust in the world – the high cheekbones, the sexy blue-green eyes, the straight black hair that fell in small fluffy curls just below her shoulder, those petite hips, those firm breasts, those long beautiful eyelashes, oh, I was so much in love!

She looked around her, scanning my waiting crowd from her moving crowd, looking for me, searching for the face of her lover. I waved my hand frantically and called her name out, “Yuuuuuuuuu Suuuuuuuuuuuuk!”

I started running towards her in slow motion. The crowd around me dissolved into fields of poppies, with butterflies fluttering around, the sun shining down with it’s golden rays dripping with love, drenching the two of us in that moment of ecstasy. Her face broke into a beautiful smile as she saw me and she ran towards me in slow motion, through our very own field of poppies. I held out my arms to embrace her, and she held out her arms to run into mine. At that moment, I felt something hard hit me on the back of my head and I tripped over myself and fell face-down on the hard concrete floor of the airport. The field of poppies and the butterflies disappeared and I could just see dazed stars all around me for a few moments.

I was aware of distinct voices – one angry and one concerned – around me. I looked up and saw Yu suk arguing with a taxi driver. It was the guy who was standing in front of me, discussing his wife. I sat up and rubbed the back of my head and saw an old but heavy boot lying next to me. He had thrown a boot at me! That bastard!

“Hey!” I cried standing up. “What the fuck were you thinking throwing shoes at people?” I geared up for a fight.

“You bastard!” he cried. “You abused me verbally!”

I was confused. “Eh, what? When did I do that? Stop talking nonsense!”

“Shut up, you punk! You said, ‘You Suck!’ so loudly that the whole bloody airport heard it!”

So, thus began a hatred, rooted in mis-communication, that spanned the better half of the next decade – a decade that involved a lot of stalking, prank calls, threatening calls and three trips to the police station and one to the hospital. It got so bad that the cops finally had to request me to stop beating him up every time I saw him. I reluctantly agreed and made a deal with the bastard – I’d leave him alone if he accepted that it wasn’t my fault to begin with. He was lying with three broken bones in the hospital bed, covered in bandages from head to toe, when he agreed. I could see hatred in his eyes.

It’s been four years since I’ve heard from him or seen him, and recently, I think I scratched his car by mistake while I was parking my bike near my office. I did not notice the number of the car, but I am damn sure it was him, because when I came back after work, my bike wouldn’t start – there were sugar lumps in the petrol tank and both my tires were flat.

I began noticing his car everywhere I went – the bastard is stalking me! I think it’s time I remind him who the better man is. I think it’s time for him to visit the hospital again. 😀

Moral of the story: Do not believe everything you read on MirrorCracked.

Open Question: If a love bite is called  ‘hickey,’ what’s a love scratch called?

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Interview With ‘The Pakistani Spectator’

42-17214728Something interesting happened yesterday. This online newsletter called The Pakistani Spectator interviewed me about my blog and published the interview on their site. I was pleasantly surprised.

(Of course, I was a bit apprehensive to begin with, and I researched the site completely, spoke to people who read it and only after I assured myself that I wasn’t going to regret it did I respond to the questionnaire.)

Excerpts:

  1. Would you please tell us something about you and your site?
    I’m a 24-year-old guy, living in Bangalore (India) and I currently work for public relations firm. Previously, I’ve worked as a Java developer, a journalist and a cancer researcher, in India and New York. […] MirrorCracked is a blog that people can visit to have a laugh. No matter what the situation, there’s always something in MirrorCracked that’ll make the readers smile…

  2. I’m wondering what some of your memorable experiences are with blogging?
    I think I’ve met some fascinating people through my blogs, and one of the most memorable experiences was to organize and coordinate a bloggers’ meet […] It was an amazing learning experience, something that I’m looking forward to again.

  3. Do you feel that you continue to grow in your writing the longer you write? Why is that important to you?
    I’ve been writing all my life. I’m a published author, and I feel that a blog is an ideal platform for people to showcase their writing skills. […] The more I write, I personally feel that the better I get at it. It’s a constant process of learning, which I hope many bloggers realize.

You can read the complete interview here.

Vodafone Woes!

When Graham Bell called out to his manservant over the first telephone ever built, he didn’t realize that one day, the world of telephony would reach today’s heights. We have phones that flip open and fit snugly in the palm of our hands, and without any wires attached, we can call someone on the other side of the world with the touch of a button. He’d be proud of himself, I’m sure. But if he had any inkling that there’d be something called “Vodafone” in India in the year 2008, he’d never have called his manservant and he would have promptly destroyed his invention and told his sponsors to leave him alone! 😀

Ok, so why do I hate Vodafone so much? Well, it all started when I returned to India from New York in April this year, and realized that I didn’t have a cell phone connection that worked here. So, I stole borrowed my mom’s BSNL sim card and started using it. Pretty soon I came to know that the BSNL connection was little more than a piece of plastic with some metal pasted on it with QuickFix, and that it rarely worked! No STD calls were possible and every time someone called me, I’d begin the conversation with, “The line may get disconnected any second…” 😀

I guess that’s why BSNL is allegedly an acronym for “Bhai Saab, Nahi Lagega!” 😀 (Sir, it won’t work!)

So anyway, I switched to a Vodafone connection, against all advice to go for Airtel (I was a Hutch user a long time ago, before I went to NY, so I thought I’d be loyal) and signed up for a corporate connection exactly 10 days ago. The plan looked good and it gave me all that I was looking for in a connection – STD, ISD, text, local calls, everything. And it was quite economical too! So, I took the plunge and switched to Vodafone. 😀

Three days later, my woes began.

I got a message when I was in Chennai for the weekend that I had used up 80% of my credit limit and that I had to make a payment of 600-odd bucks immediately. I ignored the message, because it was ridiculous. A day later, my outgoing calls and messages were barred! I called up the customer care and made the girl on the other end cry because of the kind of language I used, and through her tears, she told me that I had actually used up so much for international calling and national roaming charges. I realized that Chennai was in another state altogether and that national roaming would be activated. Sheepishly, I apologized and hung up.

I paid the required amount after two days (it was tough surviving for 2 days without making a call from my phone, but I managed) and got my lines cleared up. Three hours after I had paid, the outgoing lines were barred again! 😀

This time the customer care executive who answered my call was a guy and while I was wondering what happened to that other girl (she had kind of a sweet voice) he apologized for the inconvenience and said that he’d clear up the lines immediately. Apparently the payment I’d made wasn’t “reflected” on their servers.

I have had it with these weird things in life! These Vodafone people came to my office to verify my office address and then did the same at my home address! I mean, for fuck’s sake, I’d given them my office ID and my address proof when I took the connection! Bah! Morons! 😀

Anyway, if anyone has any suggestions of how to make a Vodafone guy’s life miserable, please let me know! 😀

Image Courtesy: Me!