Same Day, Same Airport

A month ago, I was packed. I’ve been so prepared and focused on the trip…but on the day of my departure, suddenly everything fell apart. I had to fax a copy of my passport, and I had to wait till Tandem was open to do it; I tried and tried to get the fax through, and every single time got a print-out saying, “No Response/ Busy.” Finally, things are still up in the air—I can keep using the Internet whenever I get a chance, to check my e-mails, and I’m hoping the guesthouse will have both Internet and a fax machine. In the meantime, I have to wait, with this all up in the air. And then there’s the flight delay, and my camping out at this airport! Hopefully after I get my boarding pass, get through security and get to the terminal, I can reach another Internet computer, because at the very least I’d like to make sure Bina read the e-mail about my flight delay. In other words, I’d like to be sure that someone will be waiting for me at the Delhi airport. If not, coming to think of it, I can probably get a taxi; I have the guesthouse’s address with me.

What I’m trying to express is that, no matter what life throws at you, insecurity is something with which you have to live. The wisdom of insecurity. The best laid plans of wice and women. You can plan and organize all you want, but you have to deal with whatever curve balls life throws at you.

I have the faintest suggestion of a headache still (on the subject of insecurity—the insecurity of not being entirely sure that your headache has passed away), but I don’t feel like nibbling on more sesame sticks and popping another painkiller—all I feel like indulging in is plenty of water. I purchased a smaller bottle of water about an hour or so ago, and it’s only half full—maybe I should have gotten a bigger bottle. Oh, well, periodically I walk around this big hall, or whatever you want to call this, and it has several drinking fountains. I plan to check at the Qatar ticket counter again at 4 pm—if not sooner—and that will be another little walk around the terminal. The main terminal—that’s what this place is called. Really, I should have taken a full walk around last night; then I wouldn’t have been wondering if Qatar Airlines was here or at some other building or floor.

This situation has got me wondering whether I like traveling so much, after all! All the hassle that I’ve gone through for this trip would perhaps have been more worthwhile for a much longer stay, like if I were living in India for a year or two. Hopefully I’ll have a different attitude in a few days. How could I forget: I’m going to attend the Dalai Lama’s teachings! Tibetans trekking by foot through the Himalayas and sometimes losing toes to frostbite endure much worse in order to see the Dalai Lama. So I can endure this.

Even the Muzak. I am so not a fan. It was much more noticeable last night, when hardly anyone was around and the terminal was quiet.

The world keeps going and going, regardless of whether I can keep up.