In Bangalore I can insist that the auto rickshaw driver uses his meter. If the first one won’t do it- I know the next one or the next one or the next-next one- someone eventually will turn on the meter. And even if he doesn’t I know approximately how much it cost to go to the places I frequent here in town so I can get a good enough deal.

In Delhi I had a basic idea- so when I was trying to leave Varanasi and the charges for getting to the airport were running anywhere from 800 rupees to 120 rupees- I knew which end was closer to reality.

I decided not to pay more than 300- I ended up paying 350 plus some imaginary parking charge which I should have told the guy to shove up his hole, but I didn’t. I got the oldest, slowest, ricketiest auto rickshaw in India to take me 25 kilometers to the airport. That’s a little more than 15 miles- it took an hour and a half to transverse.

It’s a good think I left the hotel way early-I was so ready to leave Varanasi I didn’t even care that I would have been sitting in the airport for three hours. Of course that was cut down to an hour and a half on account of the snail like pace of my auto.

At the airport the plane was late departing- but they told me when I got to Delhi (my layover) I would need to identify my luggage before they put it on the next flight. I asked what the process was and he said they would tell me in Delhi like it was some national secret. Since we left late, we got to Delhi late and I asked five people about identifying my luggage for fear that it would be left behind.

They all directed me to one man who indicated that it hadn’t been unloaded from the last (late) flight yet and that he would “Yes-yes I’ve got it I’ll take care of it no problem.”
Of course I did not believe him, but I was ushered to my next flight anyway.

In Bangalore I stood in front of the luggage belt alternating between deciding what kind of scathing remarks I was going to make when I talked to whoever was in charge and trying to be positive and assume they really did take care of it.

Eventually an airline employee came to ask if I was waiting for my luggage . . . why yes that was my general stance here in front of the luggage conveyer belt. He dashed off to get a cart for me- before I could tell him 1. I didn’t think it was really coming and 2. if it did come it was only two small bags so I didn’t need a cart.

In time the airline guy also realized my luggage wasn’t coming. As I had expected my luggage didn’t make it on the plane with me. To my surprise Kingfisher had already placed it on the next flight to Bangalore and it was due to show up in an hour. They were even going to deliver it to my door- except my phone was dead and they wouldn’t be able to call me to get directions and I left my house key in my luggage so I couldn’t get in anyway- well I could have but it seemed easier to just wait at the airport.

When my luggage finally did come- Kingfisher drove me home.

Those Kingfishers are good birds after all.