My Morning

I have been here a week and am getting into a routine.  I get up at 6:00am, go for a little walk, come back to the room and take a shower and shave.  I put on the same khakis and polo shirt and wonder over to the breakfast lounge.

The breakfast lounge is set up as a mini buffet, so that in theory you can come in a grab what you need quickly and get back to whatever it is you do.  This is India, though, so there is a slight deviation.  I approach the buffet plate in hand, but every time I reach for something, the item is snagged before I can get it and placed on my plate.  So much for self-service.  I ask for decaf coffee (more to distract them, but they do make a mean cup of Joe!), I get some fruit, a piece of toast (which I am apparently unable to toast myself due to the high degree of difficulty in toasting) and whatever flavor of yogurt they are serving.  I eat my breakfast while watching the BCC news and meander back to the room.  It is at this point, that I must get dressed for the day.  I suit up, put on the tie and wait for the call.

At 8:05 sharp, Munna, the driver, calls and tells me he is here.  The ring used to scare the crap out of me, because when you live alone and something breaks the silence of your own thoughts, it can be a bit jarring.  I have since changed his ringtone to something soothing, so I remain zen with my morning.

I exit the room, down the hall and take the elevator to the ground floor.  The lobby at 8:00am is still just waking up from the night.  Indians are not morning people and getting up any time before 7:30 is a serious violation of national pride.  Anyway, I trek through the lobby to a symphony of "good morning, Mr. Wood" and "did you sleep well, Mr. Wood?" with the all too prevalent "is there anything we can get you Mr. Wood?" Enough already!  I step out into the morning heat (yes, at 8:00am it is just rounding 90) and Munna darts out of his parking place and pulls up lining the back door directly and efficiently to where I am standing.

Now comes the Indian part.  Each morning, Kaptan, the door man, who is dressed like a Sikh warrior, sports a huge handlebar mustache and is about 6'5" attempts to open and car door for me while Munna, 5'6  and 100 lbs wet, comes running around the car to do the same.  Kaptan always gets it done before Munna can clear the back of the car, but you have to admire his persistence.  He has been doing this for a week with no sign of yielding to the large door warrior.

My car is a Ford Endeavor.  This is an Explorer sized SUV,  but slightly better looking and doesn't flip from having the wrong tires.  It is white with tan leather interior and is quite comfortable, if not a tab bit bumpy.  Understand, this is no car chassis with a large body on it as many American SUV have become.  This is the real deal - a truck with 4 wheel drive, safari suspension and a big diesel engine. Whoa!  While other executives are whisked around Delhi in their wimpy Toyota vans, I have been equipped with a tank (thanks to our crack corporate security team - safety first!)  There are advantages, though, to having such a vehicle outside of the obvious (the obvious being the need to drive to Bhutan).  You sit up high and people get the f@#k out of your way!  Both of these are really comforting to have in Delhi traffic.

Munna sprinting around the truck to get the door open before I arrive!

Check out the safari roof-rack and running boards - Oh yea!

Anyway, I climb (I literally mean climb - there is a running board and I have to use it) in the back seat and Munna and I are off to the office.  I greet him with a "how are you this morning?" which usually sends him into a panic for and answer as Munna does not speak great English.  He stutters for a few seconds and retorts with "good sir, and you?"  I answer "good" and we are off!

The drive to work is not bad from the Hotel.  Peak traffic does not really kick up until 8:45am, so we miss most of the drama in the morning.  There is still more traffic than most major cities see during their rush hours, but I am learning everything in Delhi is given in degrees.  Relative to peak traffic, Munna and I do not see much traffic.

We arrive at the office about 20 minutes later where we pull up to the front door and Munna jumps out to get my door before I can open it.  Sometimes I fiddle around with my ID badge a little to give him a fighting chance.  The first couple mornings, I tried to take my briefcase with me, but Munna would have none of that.  Now I just leave it on the seat and Munna magically appears with it 10 minutes later in my office doorway.

I enter the building and the entire reception area stands and greets me with more "good morning, Mr Wood." The guards actually pop to attention, picking up a leg and slamming it down in the British Army style salute.  Very impressive.  So I get on the elevator and go to the 2nd floor (which is actually the 3rd floor, because the 1st floor is the ground floor).  I arrive at my office reception to more of the same saluting, standing and door opening.   I finally arrive in my office and can relax...... not quite!

As I settle in, Denesh, the Chaiwalla, awkwardly approaches the threshold of the door to find out what my morning drink will be. He seems genuinely scared of entering my office and it always occurs to me to jump out of my chair and scare the crap out of him.  I am afraid, though, he would actually poop his pants, so I order a decaf coffee instead.  He scurries off to exceed my expectations.

The final evolution of my morning is the arrival if Ambika, my secretary.  She arrives around 9:00 with a big smile and comes in to see if I need anything to start off the day.  At this point, I have nothing, so we chat for a minute and she returns to her desk.

I am finally alone!