The food onboard was decent. Spicy. Yum.

“Friends don’t let friends fly Air India.”

That fateful quote (found on a review site of the airline) would continue to haunt me. The line up at O’Hare in Chicago was so incredible when I first arrived to check in one of the security guys turned to me and asked “Am I a sadist? Why do I work here?”

400 pushy angry Indians are a force to be reckoned with. The flight was late, the seats were tiny, in fact, all the passengers and the flight crew were tiny. I was pretty much the only person on that plane over 5′6 which gave me the distinction of getting to heave about 30 suitcases into the overhead containers (p.s. those sucky people SO over-packed). The two people sitting next to me gave off an aroma that had me practicing my “mouth breathing.” Though the old woman did give me some craisins so props to her for that. She was in my good books until she laughed when her bloody suitcase fell on my head. As I WAS TAKING IT DOWN FOR HER.

I also am pleased to report that the security level has been raised to orange which = hell on earth because you know, I apparently have shifty eyes and get pulled aside at every airport. I have an “undesirable passport” according to the U.S. customs man who was not into my stamps.

Let me repeat, just one last time, FRIENDS DON’T LET FRIENDS FLY AIR INDIA.

P.S. Am in Frankfurt. It’s nice here. Eating lots of pretzels.