It's quite odd being around hale, healthy folks again: I'm not that tall.
4 hours and 1 meal in India has produced as much acid in the reflux as 7 months in Thailand, but I'm sufficiently impressed by the bookstores and general tourists to move this to the top of the prospective jobs list.
It's interesting to consider whether it's just the Mumbai airport or a broader area that does not like direct access to google/gmail/blogger.
Whoever thought touchscreens would be fun on seat-mounted entertainment venues is one sick puppy.
The problem I'm facing is defining a vacuum: I've figured out what it wants and what it fills itself with, but how do you define an absolute vacuum?
What the hell's with a country that changes its time by half an hour?
The funny thing is that printing off a web checkin--amply sufficient for Stateside flights--go me to BKK and to the Jet Airlines gate, but once boarding began, the Indians turned more draconian than code-orange TSA and I had to go back to the start to be reclassified and checked all the way through.
The funnier thing is that once I complimented the lady's contacts, everything flowed like a silken stream.
Thais are supposed to be respectful and avoid ostentatious attention, so why do they shout whatever comes to mind and feel free to fart most potently in a crowded airplane?
And I can't escape it: when I ordered the meal and received a dining tag with my receipt, I was not called out for order contents or number but as "HARRY POTTER!"
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