Cattle call

I flew from Delhi to Cochin, in southern India this morning, thus ending a 22-hour stay in the nation's capital. Our car picked us up at 5:30am and we traversed the deserted streets to the domestic airport (the domestic and international airports are separate, but a new airport is to be built by the 2010 Commonwealth Games).

The car dropped us off and we were thrust into the middle of a crowd of people, funneling their way through the doors. People weren't exactly pushing, but there was definitely pressure coming at me from all sides, encouraging me to hurry and to squeeze through the airport entrance.

Upon moving through the main lobby, we stood in line to enter another security area. A be-suited man approached me and tried to squeeze his way into the line ahead of me. I think he sensed my annoyance and turned to me and said, "I enter in here?"

With a scowl on my face, I replied, "Um, I think there's a line" and he got in line behind me, but ahead of the dozens of people who were already in line behind me.

Upon entering the security area, our bags passed through a screen before we took them to wait in another disorganized line to check in and get our boarding passes. After that line, we waited in another line to go through the personal security point.

Unlike in the US, security seemed much more lax. I didn't have to take off my shoes, they allowed me to bring through a bottle of water and I kept my belt and jacket on.

Throughout my morning airport experience, I felt like I was in a sea of humanity. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing (thank goodness for my colleagues from The Corporation) and people clearly saw that I was a lost panda, just crowd surfing through the process.

Like the international airport, the domestic airport was pretty grimy. Everything in India seems to be covered in a layer of dirt and grease. I sort of didn't want any part of my self to touch the plane seat, but I really had no choice.