Yes, I was aware that India for some stands for I will Never Do It Again but I guess for me, that is not true.
It is simply the best show on earth and one that never stops! Who would ever have thought when my dad and I decided to go together, that it would be the journey there that stands out as most memorable.
As we arrived at the Montreal airport from the bus from Ottawa, dad told me he felt a bit dizzy. I thought it might have been the bus and was hopeful it would pass…. like immediately. Needless to say, this was only the beginning. He went to the washroom and came back even more dazed and confused. We were about to board a flight to Paris and then onto New Delhi for New Year’s. We went to the check in and I could tell he might faint. Before I even knew what was happening, he was sitting in a wheel chair and I was now pushing him through departure stuff and through customs.
I am thinking… what the heck… should we just backtrack right now and go back to Ottawa or even stay in Montreal? We go through customs and good ole mom had put in those travel scissors in his carry on which of course got confiscated. As we get to the departure gate, I am thinking now this is insane Cheryl… but he is saying he wants to go and to keep moving forward.
I know how much he wants this trip and maybe this is something that will just pass… maybe.
Anyway, I can’t take him up the ramp to the plane as protocol has it that a sweet little flight attendant all decked out in high heels and a tight skirt needs to do it. She begins and then the unbelievable happens… she can’t make it.. he is a tad heavy…and she literally dumps the wheelchair and he lands on his knees. Now we are officially making a scene; something I don’t like much. All the people (airlines officials) come running and are thinking..omg.. lawsuit?…and get him back in the chair. You see at this time, they think he is disabled… not actually sick.
When we get landed in our seats, he asks for one of those throw up bags.
Now I am into first class freaking out… he is going to throw up in our airline seat and fly across the ocean to Paris to go to India???
So the sweet flight attendant sees what is going down and she is now no longer so sweet as he can’t fly if he is sick.
She sends over the major hancho from Air France to do his polite asking to have dad leave the flight and rebook. Dad then tells him we can’t do that as we are not going to Paris really, but to India! Upon hearing that, they clearly think he is insane. Dad stands his ground (while actually his seat) and won’t budge. I am dying inside and can’t look at the passengers that are boarding as they watch him with the paper bag. Now the flight attendants are the opposite of sweet and going to make our lives hell on this flight if we stay. One gives him some advil and thank God, dad passes out and snores for take off and the rest of the flight.
When we arrive in Paris, they have a wheelchair waiting for him at the ramp and boy do they look shocked when he picks up a backpack at arrivals. I wheel him through, get into a taxi, beg the hotel to let us get in early (not an easy feat…this is Paris after all) and he goes to sleep again. I roam the streets of Paris looking for cookies and bread… and miraculously within a day he is feeling somewhat better and we are onto New Delhi.
When we arrive it is New Year’s Eve and it is chaos.. or is India always chaos?
We get to our hotel, deep dark down an alley only to discover we are staying in a dive… and I mean a dive… and we are sharing a double bed with a very open concept toilet that leaves nothing to the imagination.
And so our trip begins… we laugh ourselves to sleep as the only other choice was to cry …. and well.. we are still at the beginning so laughing makes more sense… maybe?!