No doubt reminiscent of that familiar Fleetwood Mac tune? I decided to kill some time on the beach before heading to GOI (Goa international I would presume). I checked out and hit the sand around 9:30am. I am not sure what the fascination is with waves hitting the beach then hitting the beach then ... There were a lot of people in the water today, not surprised since I got wet yesterday and the water was wonderful. The trip to the airport was an event as they always are from my recent experiences in India. At one point I think the paint molecules from my vehicle were bonding with those of a bus in front of use we were so close. I have as yet to see an accident here ...
The airport ... oy-yoy-yoy, madhouse. You first go through a carrier-dependent x-ray machine for your checked luggage. The SpiceJet line was long but moved well. I think the India carriers could teach the North American ones something about speedy check-in. They put a plastic tie on my knapsack as they thought I was going to check it. Those plastic ties, you know the ones that tighten and will not loosen without cutting with a chainsaw? I then go into line #2, queuing for 1072 bound for Hyderabad in 90 minutes. I am told to go upstairs and point to a flight of stairs and the uniformed SpiceJet person says no and points to the other side of the room. Ok, time to clear security in gate 1 ... now is that 1-A or 1-B. Nobody seems to know so I ask again and get two different answers from two airline personnel. Another oy-yoy-yoy. I then see a sign with letters the size of a pea telling me I am supposed to be at 1-A.
Security is quick and I lounge around the waiting room until the flight is called. It was a recent offering from Bombardier in their Q-series. I watch out the window for most of the flight, amazed that I did not doze off ... until I fall asleep. I cab it back to Katriya for Rs. 600 and get to the hotel where the doorman gladly takes my luggage. I have decided to let people assist as they are there to work and, if the customer is so inclined [which I always am], need the tip. I approach the elevator, expecting a Katriya person to be closely following me but no luggage. I go back outside and the doorman motions with a few fingers ... I take this to mean the bags will be along in a few. I go upstairs and wait ... and wait ... and wait. No bags. I go down to the lobby and you will never guess what is sitting by the bell stand?
I stop at the front desk and ask if they have a chainsaw to cut said orange plastic tie off my knapsack. I am then reminded of the hotel's offer to upgrade me upon my return from Goa. Room 604 is the chosen lot, and a guy and me stop in 427, I pack, and then off to 604. I unpack and then have a brilliant idea.
I have probably missed a lot of the Nadal/Djokovic men's final from Australia, so why not check the Slingbox and see when on in Ottawa ... 2:30pm eastern! That's 4am here. That's no good so I get it on the Mac and it's the ________ set and the score is ___ set(s) for ____________ and ___ set(s) for ___________. I watch until the match ends, and am pleased that _____________ comes out on top. This match does not air in North America for another 6.5 hours. Needless to say, it was on live on TSN when the match was played at about 8pm in Melbourne which would have been 4am in the eastern time zone.
I head out for KFC and am now waiting for a beer I ordered 20 minutes ago. There are seven people working the restaurant, five customers (four of whom are at one table), and me ... three of the servers, as well as the maitre'd just came over to tell me they have no cold Kingfisher so I order a Tuborg. When entering the restaurant I notice Aussie tennis on Star Sports ... hmmmm, I should have known that it may be on in the Orchid and not struggled with my online viewing which did not go very well. That reminds me of a funny story ...
This geriatric Canuck gets to his hotel, could be anywhere, but let's say is is in Goa. He tries to find tennis on his room TV and that channel is scrambled. Said senior is proud of himself and decides to give up tennis in the room, and go to the hotel bar where maybe Star Sports is on and lo and behold, it is. The next day when he wakes up, he decides to check the TV in his room and guess what he finds ... Star Sports. A similar experience is found when this person returns to Hyderabad and Katriya; no tennis in his room TV either. After finding it in the Orchid cafe, he has a pretty good idea what he will find in his room after all. You got it, Star Sports. Glad something like that never happened to me :). It gets better; guess what arrives at my table a few minutes later? A cold Kingfisher.
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