Families on group tours create a mini picnic park in the aircraft.
You can make out with their body language at the entrance that the passenger is not alone. They move in packs carrying larger than the permitted size of hand baggage and need help to stuff it into the overhead cabins, thereby blocking the way of fellow passengers.
They intimidated the staff at the check-in counter with their huge group presence and noise because the check-in counter always reprimanded me whenever I took an inch larger bag than the acceptable size.
The next point of chaos starts with seat exchanges. The husbands want to sit together, and the mothers want to sit with their kids, but they all prefer to take adjacent rows or next to each other; hence, they keep hustling the stewardess with demands to relocate them in the choicest arrangement.
They are least bothered about fellow passengers and the discomfort they are causing, and in fact, they believe that buying the ticket bestowed them every right to pick choices and get them accepted.
the real drama will start once the flight is Airborne
Children sit with mothers and men with their buddies; the food bag is with one of the ladies, supposedly the food and beverages in charge.
She will read out the Menu from row 3; the friends scattered in rows 5, 6 and 7 will respond with their choice of items. The kids are served tikkas with sauce; the men are served tikdas with achar; the women settle for phulkas with aloo ki sooky sabzi.
The air is filled with the aroma of spices and ghee while you are half asleep, half hungry, half anxious, half excited, and a mixture of all these leads to irritation and frustration. If it were a family on the train, they sure would have offered the food to fellow passengers.
You make peace with the gastric juices and try to concentrate on the biopic you are reading. That's when the chatter of women would start on various topics from row 3 to row 7 on how uncooperative the kids have become, how ill one's babhi is, and how big a villa the third one's brother brought in Goa. The women agreed to change the school of their toddlers as the school did not give a rupee discount on tuition fees during the pandemic.
Meanwhile, the men get hungry again and start demanding food. The F&B manager of the tour takes out a packet and sings a jingle, "Boys, no drinks but very chakna here is makhana" The makhana packet is passed from row number 3 to 7.
The stewardess senses the irritation of fellow passengers and goes to them to remind them to always remain masked and put on their seat belts. She is instantly named Katerina(aptly as the Girl was tall and beautiful), and the men oblige to listen to the beautiful stewardess's advice. At the same time, women look at Katrina with envy.
Flight Etiquette has all gone to air; we have conveniently Indianised the flights into trains. Train journeys are about sharing food, knowledge, and debates and exchanging phone numbers and addresses.
I have read a dime a dozen stories on how co-passengers in a long train journey ended up becoming couples, lifetime friends, or meaningful phone contacts, references used once in a while to sort out the problems, if any, in their respective regions.
Flight journey has removed the interpersonal warmth; once inside the aeroplane, everyone wears an attitude of being someone special and important.
The frequent flyers will buckle up, read the newspaper, and then catch up with sleep. The youth will use every second to watch the movie or series they have downloaded quite in advance. The kids are hooked onto their video games; The newbies transitioning from trains to aeroplanes are busy exploring the Toilet. They must check the loo even if it is just a 55-minute flight.
The middle-aged solo travelling aunties like me remain seated tucked, latching onto their handbags as if someone will come and snatch them away.
With their palms clasped, the honeymoon couples try to catch up with the sleep to overcome the exhaustion of the previous night.
The girl who got all the attention at the check-in counter for her multicoloured hair, deep neck crop top, and low waist jeans, torn at multiple places, is also one of the attractions on the flight.
She struggled with her bag at the check-in counter as it exceeded the weight limit. In full public view, she bent forward, the loose-fitting crop top revealing her chest and her low waist jeans sliding further down, exposing her butt cheeks; she transferred clothes from the check-in bag to hand luggage and jumped the queue once again to dump the bag and collect her boarding pass. Her ears were plugged, and dishevelled hair was everywhere on her face, neck, shoulders, and chest; she had a fancy designer handbag on her forearm and expensive sneakers; it was hard for me to read or categorise her. She gave a hoot to the surroundings; oblivious to the wild stares, she did her job and left with an arrogant attitude.
The same Girl, with the same attitude, awaits her turn at the loo in the aeroplane, all the eyes prying on her from top to bottom, but
Guess she, in her psych, has concluded that no one else existed on this planet apart from her.
An aeroplane journey is no longer the sole right of wealthy tourists, corporates or celebrities. The aeroplanes are the new trains minus the warmth and cooperative nature of train commuters.
For the first time during my recent journey, in full view of all the passengers, The housekeeping lady at Indira Gandhi International Airport, Delhi, screamed at a rural passenger for not using the toilet properly.
It's unheard of in airports but a common sight at railway stations.
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A time will come when the middle class will completely transition to aeroplanes from trains, and the rich will invent Rajdhani planes for them with all exceptional amenities to suit their tastes and etiquette.
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