Impressions

Now that I have some time to breathe, I intend to put down some of my impressions of the USA – something that I have wanted to do since even before I came here.

I had quite an uneventful journey. It was comfortable, but boring. Apart from sitting in the plane in London’s Heathrow runway for half an hour after landing from Mumbai for want of a slot, there was nothing else that frustrated me (except the luggage at Chicago – more on that later). Of course, I did miss meeting my friend Arun at the Mumbai airport, but apart from that, there were no other goof ups.

As the British Airways flight descended to land at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport, the very impressive skyline of downtown (“downtown” being an Americanism similar to our “city”, “pete” or even “Majestic”) Chicago came into view. This then was the famous America. I watched as the skyscrapers became larger and larger and then disappeared from view as the aeroplane banked to land. First impressions – the runway was as smooth (or as rough – whichever way you want to put it) as Bangalore airport’s.

We were given the immigration forms on the flight itself to fill up. Whoever complains of filling up the “old fashioned”, “bureaucratic” embarkation and disembarkation cards when travelling either from or to India should be made to go through the US procedures. Our poor derided officials will seem like angels to them.

Having disembarked, the foremost priority was to run to the immigration counters to beat the queues. It was a good thing that I did so because soon after, a couple of flights from China landed and the queues became extremely long. The immigration officer took a look at the size of the queue and shouted across to his neighbour “Entering factory mode!” He took a look at the first passenger to get to him (an Indian student) and asked him to take the I-20 out of the sealed envelope as there was “no state secret in it and it would make my job easier”. He shouted out the same instructions down the queue to all of us. All of us who had religiously guarded the sealed envelope (and there were quite a few) breathed a sigh of relief - all of us were no doubt worried about the dog-ears and the tears that the envelopes had developed over such a long and arduous journey. We no longer had to face the wrath of the immigration official, which we were sure we would face because of the mutilations!

Having read about the procedures before hand, I was expecting some intense grilling at the immigration counter. To my surprise, the queue in front of me quickly shortened, and it was my turn. I was greeted with a “Good afternoon sir, how do you do”. He then proceeded to examine my passport, I-20 and the I-94 card that I had filled up on the plane. He then entered the SEVIS number from my I-20 into his system, and satisfied that I was no terrorist, stamped my I-94, wrote that I was allowed to stay in the USA for “DS” i.e. Duration of Stay as per the I-20, stamped my customs form, wished me luck and sent me on my way. The whole procedure took hardly a minute. It was so fast, I actually waited for a few moments at the counter looking at him like an idiot until he called the next person in the line.

Next was claiming the baggage. Some careless baggage handler at Mumbai’s airport had broken the handle of my older suitcase. I somehow wrestled both of them into a trolley and proceeded to look for the means of conveyance to go to the domestic terminal. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I knew there was a free shuttle train that took passengers between the terminals once every 15 minutes. The problem was, it was an elevated rail system, and horror of horrors, luggage trolleys were not allowed on board! What followed was the saddest part of the whole journey. I had to take my three pieces of unruly luggage up an escalator. But, could I do it in one trip? No, I had to face the danger of leaving one of them below, take up the two remaining ones, leave them there, go back down and get the other one. It was a situation where I could have lost my entire luggage. The prominent notices cautioning people not to leave luggage unattended on pain of prosecution did nothing to allay my anxiety. However, a helpful lady suggested that I could take the elevator that was right there behind the escalator. Of course, that was what I intended to do I told her, and was on my way looking a bit foolish. It was not easy even then. Just try dragging two suitcases each weighing thirty two kilograms, each with a very high centre of gravity, while balancing a 15 Kg cabin luggage in the other hand, and you will know what I mean.

Once on the platform, there was another shock in wait for me. The notices said that the train would stop for only ten seconds and one was not supposed to prevent the doors from closing, again on pain of prosecution. The train arrived as I was formulating a strategy as to how I could not only get the luggage in, but also get it out once I reached my destination. Wonder of wonders, there was a porter standing at each entrance of the train to help people in a situation such as mine! I thanked God for all his graces. But the thanks seemed a bit premature once I found out my predicament at the domestic terminal.

Once I got off at the domestic terminal, I had hoped to get a trolley so that I could lug my luggage in peace. That was not to be. I had to do the exact drag and balance act all over again, but this time for almost half a kilometre. The mere memory of it gives me the chills even now.
Suffice to say, I somehow reached the American Airlines counter (which occupied the entire hall) with all my belongings intact. By this time, I had become somewhat of a spectacle, drawing stares all along the hallway. I presented my luggage and ticket to the lady at the counter. Her first reaction was “Oh, a paper ticket!" I was surprised. What else is a ticket usually made of? However, I later learnt that nobody issues paper tickets anymore in the USA for domestic flights. All tickets are “e-tickets”. They are bought online and all you get is a number. You take the number with you and if you do not have any check in luggage, you can check yourself in with the help of several “self check in” kiosks that are available at the airport.

This was not the end of my troubles. Following the new security regulations, the airlines do not receive the check in luggage. They just tag it and we ourselves have to take it to a counter where some government employee checks the luggage to see if we have any bombs. I had to unlock my suitcases before I put them in the X-ray machine. If they had decided to open my luggage and it was locked, they would have broken open the lock. In the event, they did decide to open the suitcase with the broken handle. The person who was supposed to do it was however posed with a problem. The case was securely bound with rope. I was watching him with interest, whether the rope would dissuade him from venturing an inspection. However, the images of a bomb going off on the flight because of this very suitcase must have made him think the better of it. My appearance with stubble, unkempt hair and a wild-eyed look (because of lack of sleep) must have swung the balance. He untied the rope, opened the suitcase, examined everything (even smelt the pudi packets), put them back in and tied back the rope in a far more secure way than I could ever hope to have done. He then asked me for the key of the suitcase, locked it and returned the key to me with a smile and a “Have a happy journey sir”. An attendant had done likewise with my other suitcase as it exited the X-ray machine. That however was not opened.

With a sigh of relief, I then proceeded towards the gate where my flight was supposed to be boarded. But before that, I had to go through the security check (the other one was for the check in luggage alone). In this one, I had to take out my laptop and put it in a tray. I then had to take my shoes off and put it in another one. Likewise, I had to put every metal thing in separate trays. All of them were then passed through the X-ray machine. When entering the security area, the guard letting me in had given a good look at my face, decided that I was not an American and had asked for my passport and I-94. This he promptly went and gave to his superior who was frisking everyone. After passing through the metal detector, all the foreigners – and there were quite a few – had to endure a thorough cabin baggage check and a thorough frisking. The fellow doing it actually warned me that he would be touching me in places that I would not be very comfortable with, but that I had to go through it because of security regulations. He then took out all of my things from my cabin luggage and very methodically piled it up next to him as I watched him sitting on a chair that was provided (oh yes, they were very courteous “Please have a seat sir” and all that). He then told me that I could zip up and collect my things and “have a nice journey”. All the foreign males where frisked in full view of everyone else. No, there wasn’t any indecent exposure, but imagine somebody touching your family jewels in front of two hundred other people and you’ll know how I felt. Thankfully, this seemed quite normal to the Americans and no one was rude enough to stare at us. Of course, I looked at my neighbour’s face for his reaction at the precise moment the security guard touched his unmentionables. He did the exact same thing. We gave each other a smile.

I cleared security a full one and a half hours before boarding. I spent my time reading my book and checking my laptop to see if it had suffered any damage in its journey so far. Of course, this was also my first opportunity to look in some leisure at some of the female species of the American continent. The sheer variety of specimens at that place would delight any anthropologist. Of course it did not disappoint me either to see so many of them in various stages of undress – the season being summer seemed to have made garment prices go through the roof. Modesty prevents me from going into further details – details that are more suitable for the company of other like-minded (and like-aged and like-gendered) individuals.

Anyway, the flight to Columbus was delayed by about fifteen minutes. Good, I thought. There were delays in America too, which apparently ran like clockwork. But, there is something about the atmosphere here that induces you to hurry, to stretch more. You feel like walking faster – because every one else is almost running. You feel as if you will be left behind if you are not fast enough. There is no such urgency in India, at least that part of India that I am familiar with.
The aeroplane itself was a very small affair. There was about three inches of headroom for me as I stood. Almost all the Americans had to stand bowed. And because the luggage rack was too small, I had to stow my luggage under the seat.

The pilot then told us that we were ready for take off. The air traffic here is such that by the time one aeroplane’s wheels have left the ground, the next one is already rolling for take off. It’s the same for landing too. By the time one aeroplane has reached the end of the runway after landing, the wheels of the one after that would have touched down. The whole system has the air of a glorified bus station. A bit more ad hoc than what we see back home with all the protocols that only one aeroplane has to be on the runway at any given time. To strengthen this impression, the pilot coolly announced that he would be going “a bit faster” so that we reached on time! That urgency I was talking about! I cannot imagine this happening in India.

It was a very short flight – all of forty-five minutes out of which the safety instructions took fifteen minutes and the snack serving another fifteen minutes. Indeed, no sooner had I put my cup into the steward’s trash bag (you cannot expect trolleys on such a small plane), the plane started descending and the seat belt sign came on. The plane landed in Columbus, the capital of the state of Ohio and my final destination in this journey.

My impressions of Columbus will follow in another instalment of “Impressions”..