09.01.07 Mom is gonna Be SO mad.

Mom is going to be SO mad.
When I spoke to her on Friday I said I'd call her before I left.
Little did I know I was doing just that.

Having three weeks with only a couple hours a day for each of three jobs (Triton, Turner & The Blue Hill Troupe) was kind of fun. It's the closest I've come to a vacation in a while. I even got into that wonderful state of not being completely sure what day it was.

Carol, who booked my tickets before she went to Scotland, had spoken to me about flying on Sunday and we spoke about my landing on the 1st. She wasn't around when I picked up the tickets, so we didn't finish the conversation. No one who looked at the tickets compared them to the calendar to realize that the first was Saturday.

Meanwhile i was emailing Chandi, my boss, trying to get information about my sleeping accomodations and how to find them when I landed. Typical of the company, it's sink or swim and ou have to carry out each detail yourself. I told him I was coming Sunday and then wrote him back to give him the flight #, date and time.

Friday somewhere after 6, Jo and I were having cocktails, waiting for the Chinese food to be delivered when I thought I'd look at my email. We were planning on spending the weekend together, I still needed to sort clothes, buy some grooming aids (who needs them more), etc.

There was the email I was looking for telling me that I was booked at the Hyatt Regency (no address or phone) and tersely pointing out that September First was Saturday, not Monday.
I checked the tickets and the calendar as Jodi paid for the Chinese food and then broke the news that the car was coming to drive me to the airport in 30 minutes.
It made the goodbye a little like ripping off a band-aid.

It also made packing a little frantic.
Now that I'm in India we're making a list of all the stupid things I neglected to bring. Of course there I've discovered a couple of stupid things I didn't intend to bring. Fortunately there's a weekly packet from Turner.

So I'm sitting at the desk of my 6th floor room at the Hyatt looking out the huge window at more sky than I've seen in 20 years. It just goes on forever!
Huge clouds. Rained last night and rained this morning, but the sun was shining brightly a few minutes ago. The hotel turned out to be across the street from the airport. Except for the luggage, I could have walked.

I'm watching the traffic go by, and it's easily as bad as they say. While they offical drive on the wrong side of the road by American standards, they also drive on the wrong side of the road occassionally by their own standards! There are tons of motor bikes of every size, funny little three wheeled taxis with what look like stretched vinyl roofs, mostly 'little' cars, but a few midsize sedans, and then the buses and trucks. And do they love their horns!

The trip was bizarre in it's uneventfulness.
The driver showed up on schedule. Tito, the doorman at 40 Park, entertained him while I finished packing. Traffic to the airport had no issues and we made record time.
There was some confusion with the Delta folks about which terminal was being used, but no biggie. Two Delta gents helped me at curbside and I was a little concerned when one of them disappeared with my passport, but he used it to get me to a ticket agent and jumped me past the ENORMOUS line of people waiting.
(I wonder who he thought I was?)

The ticket agent was extremely grateful when I gave her one of my pens to keep and flattered that I said it was the least I could do for all her help and kindness. She had just come over from the other terminal and was a little edgy, end of the day blues or something.

The TA security guys were as surly as ever and tsked at me that i didn't think to remove my sandals. Where am I going to hide a shiz in a pair of flip flops? On the other side of the scanner was one of my buddies from the curb. We shared a chuckle about the grumpiness of the TA guys and he wished me well.

I had so much time when I got to the gate, and being Ted Burkhardt's son, I went to the duty free shop and stocked up the bar.

The flight was as dull as flights can be.
I fell asleep during Spiderman 3 and had to watch it over again. The Last Mimsy was a fun story, but some of the acting was unforgivable.
Joan Didon kept me company with Slouching Toward Bethlehem. I bought it for the essay Farewell to All That. It did not disappoint. I can't put my finger on when I was done with New York either, but the city and I haven't had the fallout she did. She came back. So will I.

I didn't have a window and they asked that all the shades be kept down for the duration so people could sleep. So all I saw of Africa or the Arabian pennisula was on the tracking screen. At 30,000 ft I wasn't going to see much anyway, but you never know. Basically all I saw of Saturday was the light sneaking in around the window shade. 8500 miles takes a while. If I had gone much further I'd be coming back.

The Mumbaii airport at midnight is chaotic.
Somehow I got waived through customs, found a currency exchange and a driver from the hotel right outside the door. There were about 2 thousand other people outside the door, but he was right there with a sign.
An extra helper joined us on the walk to the car My driver loaded the car and the helper who then asked me for a tip, which I gave him, though I didn't see the point much.
The driver explained after we got in the car that the extra helper wasn't affiliated with the hotel. What did I know? They were both wearing pressed black shirts. I felt like a rube who lets someone find them a taxci at Penn Station.

The longest part of the ride was the traffic out of the airport.

They stopped the car at the entrance to the hotel to inspect the trunk for bombs.

I've been waited on hand and foot since.

I cracked one of the bottles and drank my whiskey neat and skyped (internet phone call) to Joe. Slept in a kingsize bed, had a big breakfast, sat by the pool reading the paper (got to get the names of the cricket players memorized!), and had a workout in the fitness center. I could get used to this lifestyle!

This afternoon I'm finishing the floorplans for Mame, so I can scan tham at the business center and send them off for tomorrow's meeting.

I caught a cold either on the aircraft or in the air conditioning in the room. There's a moldy smell in the airport and the hotel that may take some time for my sinuses to accept.

Still haven't heard from my boss. I tried to call him several times, and either I can't work the phones here (dial 0 instead of 1 before the area code) or the phone system is as bad as they say.

The drowning of Ganesh (Ganesh Charturthi) at Chowpatty Beach starts Tuesday, so I didn't miss it! Unfortunately my Ganesh was one of the things left sitting on the bed at Park Avenue.
The paper says that there is a lack of Brahmin to perform the ceremonies and they're importing them from a neighboring district. Do you suppose I can advertise my Boston roots and make a little money on the side?

Hope the incredible length of this email makes up for not calling today before I leave (left?)

Miss you all and love you all lots.