Settled onto the plane flying from LAX to Bangkok, Derek to my left and a stranger to my right.
The stranger smells of really bad cigarette breath and I think I may gag. Such are the perils of sitting with the GP in economy. I’m not sure if they realize who I am or who we are, and what epic adventures we are about to embark. Currently he and I fight for the arm rest. He’s winning, but this is a long flight and a tireless flight. My plan is to tire him out and take control of the coveted arm rest. He’s not even hiding his dominance of our space, leaning towards me, overpowering me with his stench, reading his Chinese newspaper. I would read it too, but well, I don’t read newspapers. And I don’t read Chinese. But the flight is young. There is yet time; and before we land, I may pick up a Chinese newspaper and kill two birds with one stone. I’ve done more with less. I’ve also done less with more. So the jury’s still out.
Derek watches a Hindi movie. Pointing towards it, I mention, “dude, you don’t understand Hindi” to which he deftly responds “but I can read subtitles.” I acknowledge internally this is but another example of Derek’s “Indian-ness” over me. When we were in India earlier this summer, I was impressed with how much he had immersed himself into the Indian culture, so much so that people (and by people I mean my relatives) noted that he was a “pucca” Indian, meaning he was a typical Indian aka a strong Indian. I’ve never been called a “pucca” Indian.
By the way, I am Indian, having been born and partly raised in India during my early childhood. I am an American now; and have been for years. As this year has started to prove, I am no longer just an Indian or just an American. I am an Earthling. I am a man of this world hopefully on my way to becoming a worldly man. I love adventures. I love to travel. I love to live.
Oh, I have just won the first battle for the arm rest. The strange man to my right made a strategic error in lifting his arm to turn the page of the paper. I took advantage and have not relinquished my claim on the arm rest. Of course, now his arm lays heavily against mine. I am extremely uncomfortable right now. A strange man and his arm are locked with mine. I am ready to give in. I don’t like strange men touching me. Perhaps he knows this.
Only 13 more hours to go.
Oh, and there is no fan on this flight.
And the food is really bad. By bad, I would venture to say a starving man walking the desert would turn it down.
Go Adventure. Go Travel. Go Live.
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