To Be or not to Be

I am there somewhere on a soft white beach, with the expansive blue green and sometimes cerulean ocean beckoning. When I walk on the sand it feels soft as cotton wool. The dolphins are coming to me and inviting me to their home in the lagoon.  A larger than life mermaid watches from a distance and enjoys my discomfort about entering the very lively water. She smiles imperiously but says nothing. She continues to stare at the waves chasing each other as if they are playing catch me if you can. Everything is so alive, so full of movement and the good old joi de vivre. Even the blue and yellow striped sea perch turn up their noses at me when they see me struggling to stay on the sand which, by the way, is also moving under my bare feet each time a wave comes and kisses them. I hold on to my sun glasses because if they fall off and the waves take them away, then I will be blinded by daylight. The sunshine is very strong and I am constantly screwing my eyes in order to control my excited pupils, so the sun glasses help me some.

In a split second, I decide I want to travel. Somehow. Anyhow. By hook or by crook. Worst case scenario, I am ready to become a travel guide with a local travel agency. My formal education includes a Masters degree in Management which for the time being, will take a backseat. But travel I will.

Now I am an executive with Travelbug Tours, without a degree in Travel and Tourism but consumed with an ambition to serve this industry. I have come out of my university with a burning passion to travel, rather than manage organizations. Most of the time, I do not know whether I am coming or going, especially when these pretty ladies from all over the world, look at me with their kohl lined eyes and bat their mascaraed eyelashes when asking about the weather; I am totally floored. Just so delightedly confused! Their own menfolk don’t seem to notice how irresistibly charming their girls are- I wish they would ask me.

My joy of travelling gets really stretched to the point of disillusionment when I run to the check in counter, and then run back to my customers and then run to the hotel and in between shout myself hoarse in a minimum of three or four languages trying to tell them what is what. While setting out on a 5 nights 6 days trip to Sri Lanka this morning with a 70 strong group, a funny thing happens. Seeing so many of us, the airline opens up a counter especially for my group which I think is rather nice. But what happens after that is not so nice and I hang my head in shame. 20 names are not found on the computer at the specially opened check in counter. How come? They say the tickets have not been issued at all. With authority and conviction they blame the travel agency I work for. Why? I have to somehow sort this out. How can we have 20 dropouts for no fault of ours?

I scratch my head and rub my eyes and try to pacify my irate dropouts. Some even start demanding a refund! Talk about jumping the gun! Sigh! They have no faith in me and seem to think it’s all my mistake. Deep inside, I am already wondering where I went wrong. No, speak to the Supervisor, my aching head says. There is some gap. We speak, and we decide to finish with the people in waiting line and then sort this out. It takes me close to 45 mins to check my list with that of the Airline but finally we are all done. And would you believe it? The confusion is because the names are not spelt correctly, Kyaw has become Chou and Ong has become Wong. Koh is Ko and Mya is Mia. Preety has become Pretty! Who to blame? But they all have tickets now so I guess I have narrowly escaped an assault. And thank God I will not be sacked.

All in the nick of time because the boarding gate has started announcing names of people who haven’t boarded yet, and they are all mine!

Once inside the aircraft, swapping begins! You know, friends want to sit with friends, hmm? I want to run and hide, but I know I have to deal with this. The passengers who are not part of my group are already frowning and bracing for a noisy ride (maybe turbulent too, looking at the weather!) to destination Colombo. The pursers and air hostesses are giving me sympathetic glances and I hate them all. I need a cold towel.

I am unable to decide whether to sit in the front and bear the full brunt of the impact in case of a mid-air collision or to sit in the rear and be at risk of being swept away if the tail unit disintegrates and falls off…. Intrepid traveler, is it? Chanting my salvation mantra I sit on 26D, really the approximate middle middle, and hope to be saved. I have places to go and things to do, so minimize the risk, my conscience tells me. The world needs you, it says.

With these positive thoughts I drift into blissful slumber, but the children won’t leave me. I have three sling bags to look after. And five pairs of shoes. They are all in the water after presuming that I was born to look after their shoes and bags. And five children are pestering me to go play a frisbee game. My eyes are on that bottle of wine which everyone is enjoying. It’s one of my mid-priced favorites and I bought it for the group I am travelling with. But it looks like I am invisible- no one seems to notice me and offer me some wine.

I wake up with a start to hear the landing announcement. I missed out on the snack and the drink too! What a shame! Shepherding my 70 strong brood, I thankfully step into the Volvo bus that will take us places. Lunch is two hours away and I haven’t had breakfast.

Sigh! Did I ask for it?