Live From Heathrow

Started out of Toronto on the 29th afternoon. The trip to Pearson airport was uneventful. I was happy to find out that I could get from my address to the airport with only one fare. A normal taxi ride would cost me around $55 easy. So for $2.75 all the way to the airport was amazing. Awesome.

Anyway I checked in and got on into security. These days with all the scares they make you take off everything. Well this was the first time for me. I thought that they were doing this only the States but I was even more surprised to find that after the 2 hour wait at the security gate as I walked into the aerobridge I encountered a CBSA officer who asked to check my passport and the following conversation ensued.

Can I please see your passport and boarding card sir?

Sure.

Are you travelling alone today?

Yes.

What’s your final destination?

Hyderabad.

(Sees the Canadian immigration stamp on my visa pages and..)

Are you permanently residing in Canada?

Yes.

Are you going on business or personal or..?

Its my sister’s wedding.

Oh right. Sir as a rule you have to any (stutters)foreign exchange you may have. Any amount greate than

$10000 or equivalent should be declared with the CBSA.

I have $35 on me.

Is that enough to buy a (stutters)sandwich during the stopover?

Well it’d better be. A sandwich more than $35? I don’t think so.

Oh well thank you sir. Have a nice flight.

And funny thing was it was easy to see that only the brown men had the special appointment with these officers. Four or five of them standing there conducting mini interviews. This was the first time I experienced openly racial profiling.

I am ambivalent on the need for such inquisition especially after I have proved my credentials at earlier checkpoints. Either they should place a CBSA officer at the check in counters or they should inspect everybody. It is a little annoying when you are called aside. That automatically highlights the differences between people.

What annoys me even more is that these fools think they are doing a good job of covering up the real intent of their duty. You have to be incredibly stupid to think otherwise. Stop a random brown guy and start talking about forex limits and liquor control? What do you think we are, blind?

I think a lot of people do understand the need for constant surveillance. I support it to a certain extent. But it is the farce that they create which annoys me. If you have a doubt ask, I will put my credentials and facts before you and walk away. I have nothing to hide. When they do things like these, it automatically incriminates the persons of unacceptable behaviour in the eyes of passers-by. Or else why would any regular Joe be stopped and questioned by the authorities without specific actions prompting the suspicion. Simply unbelievable.

If you have something to ask, crosscheck or examine, please be my guest. And openly tell me why I have been singled out and the not the white guy next to me. I don’t care. As I said I have nothing to hide. And well seems like times are such that actions such as these are sanctioned in public safety and if scrutinizing me is going to make the public safer, sure avec plaisir. But please, please don’t insult my intelligence and take me around in circles.

Well I guess there is only more to come that way. Later this year a trip to the US is on the cards and more profiling, discrimination and insult.

Anyway the flight from Toronto to Heathrow sucked. Two babies made sleeping as hard as rappelling. Saw Nick and Norah’s Infinite play list. Like that guy Michael Cerra. The characters he portrays be it Juno, Superbad or NNIP, all of them have certain characteristics in common. He is always a docile, chivalrous, unassuming fellow who seemingly is very different from the teenager stereotype of American movies. I like that. I wasn’t a jock, stud or a playa. I was regular guy, may be even a nerd. And having such a character lead a plot is very interesting and easily digestible. Seems like stuff which really happens. At least to guys like me. He is an incredible actor, I think.

Food on BA is a curse. The AVML - Asian vegetarian meal was hot shit packed and served with a bun and some salad. Whoever supplies these damn meals should be shot. Of course after forcing one such meal down their throats. I think it was in Ratatouille, the French chef instructs the his little vermin protégé that a good chef always tastes what he cooks.

And of course the usual Indian guy who has to do everything possible to further downgrade the image we have. So there was this Indian lot at the security gate which was causing a lot of ruckus as it is, but after boarding the plane a dark desi bong guy with shitty long locks of hair falling on to his face ending in the aisle seat across and a row in front. Unbelievable this guy! He just wouldn’t stop staring. Next to me was this white girl with her English dad and of course ample cleavage to show. Not that it was worth boasting, I’d seen better, but still. Anyway so this horny bastard would find every reason to stare at her and the shameless uninhibited manner in which he did it embarrassed me. Yes I have checked out girls, and I checked this one out too. But then you stop. Not with this guy. And then of course the drinks. Already downed 3 or 4 Johnny Walker Red Labels. Any dumbass would know that this fellow was drunk. You had to see the disgusted look the cabin crew shot him every time he asked a different member for another drink. Yuck! Again intense disgust. When you are in the aisle seat you have to accommodate requests from the passengers on the other side when they want to get up and may be relieve themselves. But not this guy he lay there sleeping, dead as a log. A man on the inside gave up and propped himself up on the seat and leapt for freedom in the process almost cracking a guys laptop screen. And this wasn’t just once either. It is a pretty long flight, Toronto to Heathrow, and a young guy like me went thrice. So you can imagine what those 45-50 year olds with their aging prostates would have felt like.

Anyway I whiled away the remaining time watching The Matrix Revolutions. I can never tire of that series.

Down in Heathrow we were going to be ferried in buses to the terminal. The weather, it was around 3 deg C, was amazing. I just wanted to run around like it was a spring day. Anyway back at the terminal some more lines and checking. Up an escalator into another line. This was another first. I had never been security checked while on transit. Apparently at Heathrow they do the whole deal again. Before you are let free into the terminal, once again you pluck out those shoes, unbelt and de-pocket yourself to have a gloved man frisk/grope you in full view of everyone else. And what I saw here was just not the customary frisk they made sure all nooks and crevices had been palpated for negative findings. Luckily for me, the metal detector did not go off, so I was spared the honour.

Anyway after dressing up again, I walked around for a while familiarising myself. First times at transit terminals can be pretty flustering. Anyway went downstairs called dad and then CCR. The chat was interrupted by a Bangladeshi man who couldn’t figure out how to make calls. I tried explaining in Hindi but he still couldn’t understand and he gave up on me and left. After, I made a beeline to the place I had predecided on gracing.

Plane Food. Gordon Ramsay. Heard, seen and read enough about the guy to not risk letting go of a chance to eat at one of his spots. 9.30 am. Only breakfast was served. So have to leave my main course reviews for the return trip. For now it was Egg Florentine.

Eating begins with the eyes they say. And that’s the beauty of these hi-fi places. Eggs and spinach on half a toasted bun with some pepper and butter on top. Just the ordinary but made to look regal. Well I would be exaggerating if I said anything more than what was. It was eggs on toast and there are few ways any genius can reinvent it. But still got myself a window table overlooking the tarmac, pulled out Beach Boy and started reading. Well complete picture isn’t it. An English breakfast at Ramsay’s with a good novel. Only no one was taking pictures. I am brilliant act you see.

More damage to Indian reputation downstairs at one of the duty free stores. A sales girl just pitches a discounted chocolate box from Butler’s. Handmade, vegetarian, alcohol-free from a traditional Irish family business. Sampled a praline and moved on. Three desis, her next target, were ogling/orgasming while they asked the most ridiculous questions to make conversation with this agreeable lass. Will my girlfriend get fat if she eats these? Are there any nuts, my girlfriend has allergy? Ever heard of an Indian with a nut allergy.

May be but not the way this guy was asking. Anyway it was going to be Godiva gold ballotin for me. I had someone in mind.

Wi-fi. Isn’t that the norm? Internet access at places like the airport should be complimentary or at least dirt cheap. Not at Heathrow. I didn’t buy an hour at Pearson thinking $6.99 was a lot. But 5 quid for an hour in London. No thank you. So this has been blogged in word and posted at the earliest.

11.15 am. Another 2 hours to burn. Hopefully should go by quickly. Haven’t been allotted a gate yet. Gee I am tired, got to pee and crap. Pee I will. Crap we will see.

Next: Rendezvous with the Motherland and the brother-in-law.