The Long Trip Home

Traveling internationally is a precarious undertaking on its best days. Even the most advanced countries have are not yet able to control all the variables that go into making a successful trip. You have the people, the weather and the equipment that all must run at a breakneck pace with clockwork precision. Every now and again, one of those variables goes off the rails and creates an experience that is less than memorable. For me, the last 36 hours has been the result of all the variables collapsing simultaneously creating the one of the most ludicrous airline experiences in my extensive travel history.

After arriving at the airport, I proceeded to the check-in counter to begin the ritual of answering the first of a series of idiotic questions about who packed my bag and whether I have accepted any gifts from an extremist, bearded, mullah. This time was extra annoying in that I have a new passport issued in India, so the absence of an entry stamp completely stumped the less-than-clever Continental security girl. I tried to explain to the young minion how one could be in India without an entry stamp, but it was all too much for her. Finally, I barked that if there are irregularities, I am sure the crack Indian Customs Department would surely catch it. She reluctantly let me pass. There were no irregularities found at customs and, after a brief respite in the business-class lounge, I headed to repeat the entire security process at the gate – including all the questions. All seemed normal.

About 10 minutes before the boarding time, there was an ominous announcement about a delay due to technical issues. This is always disconcerting to hear in a country that has no concept of safety, repair or maintenance of even the simplest things, let alone a highly technical and complex aircraft. 30 minutes later, the delay was extended a further 30 minutes and in the end, after an hour of waiting, the flight was finally cancelled. My heart sank!

I need to put some context around this. Firstly, this is Delhi, so there are no extra Continental aircraft sitting around – one arrives at 8:30 and the same one departs at 10:30. Secondly, all the international flights leave Delhi in a span of about 4 hours (10:30pm-2:30am), so if you missed your window, you are stuck until the following evening. Lastly, my flight to the US was on my normal route through Newark which meant that if we did not get out tonight, we would be delayed days due to the hurricane. My success at escaping Delhi hinged on being quick to cobble together a plan. Quick, was not something the Indians do well.


After the cancellation announcement, they told us we would need to remain in the gate area. In Delhi, all passengers to the US are herded through a secondary security check are held captive in a segregated gate area. Also, the baggage claim is in a secure area, so the only way to reclaim your bags, is to follow the route of the incoming passengers, also through the boarding gate. There was no way back, only forward, but forward was blocked by a group of very confused Continental agents

As I said, time was of the essence, but the gate area had now fallen into complete chaos. No one knew what to do or how to get the passengers from the gate to the baggage area. Worst yet, they had announced a plan that all passengers, after collecting their bags, would be put on a bus and ferried to a local hotel for the night in anticipation of departing the next day. The frequent travelers in the gate area, myself included, went apoplectic at this announcement. We knew that no one was flying to Newark on Saturday and we also knew that we were not staying in a random hotel in Delhi. Something had to be done to move this process in the right direction.

45 minutes passed and the increasingly agitated crowd was still penned up in the gate area. I finally accosted one of the agents and explained that with every passing moment, our chances of getting out of Delhi diminish. I am paraphrasing, as there may have been and F-word or two thrown in the mix and the occasion reference to the agent’s limited mental capacity. She finally broke and explained to me that they did not have a soldier yet assigned to remove the tags from our carry-ons. In Delhi, when you check in, you are given a tag, a normal name tag, for you carry-on luggage. When you pass through security, they stamp said tag as checked. Apparently, in order to allow us to move forward, this tag needed to be removed. How do you argue against that kind of logic? “Yes sir, we understand that this completely benign process that accomplishes nothing in the way of security is the difference between you making another flight, but it is the process.” Finally, the tag remover arrived and we were off the claim our bags.


We burst forth from the gate area and started the long trek back to customs. I assumed that Continental would somehow have set up a special line to get us through this process quickly, but when we arrived, there was no one there. We entered the line and when I got up to the counter, the disinterested customs official explained that I did not have the right forms. I told him I have never left Delhi and all I needed was him to cancel my exit stamp. You could actually see his hair move as the concept blasted over his head. Finally, the Continental people arrived at the gate and funneled all 300 of us, through a single line. Another 25 minutes wasted.


The bags had all been unloaded by the time we got the carousel. I, along with most of my fellow foreign passengers grab our bags and looked for a Continental agent to help us rebook. None were around. I finally tracked down one and with my most authoritative, “I might know someone who could fire you tone” bullied him into calling the ticket desk. He did, but told me all the flights were sold out. Now, I am a relatively resource guy, so I had already called my travel agent (and woke him up). He told me there were seats on the 12:30 KLM flight to Amsterdam. I relayed this to the agent in a format to which only an Indian would respond – somewhere between “you’re an idiot” and “lie to me again and there will be serious repercussions.” He passed me off to an underling and instructed her to take me to the ticket counter. She refused. Apparently, we had another administrative obstacle.


Because India is a closed economy, they are very strict about duty-free purchases. As an outgoing passenger, you have the option to purchase duty-free items in the airport, but these are meant solely for export. Because we had been exposed to the temptation, all passengers and their accompanied luggage had to be check to ensure that the $15 dollar bottle of Jack was not illegally brought back into the country, thus upsetting the entire Indian economic plan. We were again detained for another 30 minutes while the manifest was produced and each passenger’s bag was X-rayed and their names checked off the list. You can’t make this stuff up!

After being released, I hunted down the gentlemen who I had the direct phone line to the ticket desk and convinced him that it would be in his best interest to take me there. He whisked me off to an empty corridor in which three continental agents had set up a makeshift ticketing desk. It is worth pointing out here that this was the first and only sign of proactively during the entire night, but the lack of organization had made this outstation completely useless as no one knew it existed. The agent dropped me off hastily in the deserted hallway and left making me the problem of the three women. I explain my situation and she feverishly looked at flights to get me to Minneapolis. As predicted, so much time had been wasted that most flights, including the half-full KLM flight, had already closed or departed. Just as the agent had run out of options, my secretary called. She had been working with our travel agent and they had found 1 seat on a British Airways flight to London that for some reason was not showing up in the Continental system. Working directly with my travel agent, the Continental ticketing agent cleverly came up with a solution which had the travel agent hold the seat and then based on the reservation number, the Continental agent would issue the ticket. It worked and I was booked… almost.

Apparently, the British Airways folks were not as enthused with the plan and refused to issue the seat until 100% of the plane checked in. In India, this is a typical mid-level. bureaucratic power play. It is senseless, but it makes the BA agent feel important. When this happens, you have to weather it as the whole intent is actually to get you frustrated. Finally, after waiting until the last final minute, the British Airways agent motioned me to the desk, but made sure that I knew that she was doing me a favor. Just to drive the point home, she refused to book the Chicago to Minneapolis leg in First Class even though that is what I paid for. I would need to speak to American Airlines in Chicago to get this done. I did not care at that point, as I was leaving Delhi. Good riddance!


I boarded the British Airways flight to London, settled in my seat and looked forward to the 36-hour trip home. Finally!