Baltimore airport was a mess this morning. Extremely crowded security lines and too many people trying to get out of Baltimore for the weekend I guess. Eventually I found myself at the boarding gate surrounded by a lot of sleepy passengers. Delta was oversold by 5 seats and were desperately looking for volunteers for a later flight. There were also a bunch of armed forces folks sitting at the gate. Looked like young folks from the Navy (assume from nearby Annapolis).

In any case, we finally started boarding. I had checked in my bag – which always surprises the Delta lady since I carry only one night’s clothes and it is a very small and a very light bag – but that way I can be the last passenger to get on since I do not have to look for overhead space.

I was watching from a distance as the pre-boarding started. Then they called for first class folks to start boarding. As always, there were a couple of first class passengers who were in desperate hurry to board. But something different happened today. One of those early passengers said something to the nearby folks in the line and then talked to the boarding agent who was checking the passengers in.

Ten seconds later, the agent came on the PA and made the following announcement – “Ladies and gentlemen, the passengers of Delta Flight 1222 this morning would request our armed forces personnel to board first. Could all of our servicemen and servicewomen step up to the gate please? And thank you for your services”.

In a second the place was electrified. The service folks were not ready for this – so they had to scramble to get their stuff together. Everybody stood back to give them way to the front of the gate. And as these young talent from the services filed in one by one, to a person, everyone gave them a big hand. There was not a single person who was not moved by the gesture. There was an instantaneous feeling of being part of something by everybody.

Nobody needed coffee any more. We had enough adrenalin pumping in our system.

Yesterday, our plane started rolling off the blast pad end of the live runway and from a distance I could see a plane that looked different from the other normal colors I see on a plane. As our plane speeded up past the maintenance facility of Delta, I could see this plane parked there far better.

That was obviously not a commercial plane. The tail number 80001 told a story right there. A commercial plane registered in the USA would have started with the letter N. Therefore that belonged to the military. Even within the military, that was an unique number. Most military planes start with two letters standing for their home base. Only exception would be the Air Mobility Command of the US Air Force.

For the AMC, tail number starting with “8” would mean this was delivered in 1998 for the military. And this was the first plane delivered that year. This plane is most surely used to transport VVIPs (or be backup). [Another interesting side note – for the longest time I wanted to know where do they put the “tail” number in a B-2 stealth bomber – it looks like a bat and does not have a tail like in conventional airplanes. A pilot from our office recently showed me that it is actually in the front near the nose]

So, back to the question – why was that plane sitting in Atlanta airport in front of Delta maintenance hangar?

Finished with all meetings in Philly area. It is nearly 3 PM. Should I put in a run by the beautiful Delaware river?

On one hand, I have barely two hours for my flight to take off. On the other hand, I am only thirty minutes away from the airport, there is a beautiful park by the river off the highway and there is a LA Fitness close to the airport to take a shower…

I might just be able to make it to the plane if I do not check in luggage and TSA Precheck is not crowded….

Tempting…. very tempting…

One perk of my job in the geospatial data analytics is that we get to acquire a lot of data from airplanes and helicopters. And therefore, I often get access into the airports where the flight operations are.

Today, I finished a meeting with one of our partners and as I started to drive towards the secure gates, had to stop at the STOP sign to let this helicopter go.

Technically, I came to the sign first, but I looked at the rotor fan sizes and who the helicopter belonged to. I was very happy to let it go first 🙂

My flight back to Atlanta had cleared 10,000 feet. Which meant that I could connect to the internet. As a last step to getting connected, the system always gives a “captcha” – basically, you see what is written and then write it down. This is to make sure that it is indeed a human being trying to get connected (as opposed to bots, automated programs etc).

This morning, this is what the system showed me and asked me to type out the code I saw. What code? After memory, is eyesight the next thing to go with age? Or is this a trick question? 🙂

I also have another question – if somebody has difficulty reading the code, why do they think they can read the link “Visually Impaired?” at all?

I had barely walked into the Cleveland airport when, true to its form, Delta let me know that my flight to Detroit had been delayed. Flight delays come with the territory of being a road warrior. I did, for a moment though, worry about my connecting flight to Milwaukee but realized that there was precious little I could do at that moment to help myself.

So I walked thru security and started taking the airport in. Partly to empty my mind – I need to make a couple of decisions – and partly just to check out the airport, I kept strolling desultorily from gate to gate in my terminal (B). Eventually, I ran out of gates – so I went to Terminal A. After seeing all the distinctly Cleveland-y things, I spotted something I had seen elsewhere – a Starbucks!!

Standing in the rather long queue for a cup of coffee that I pay twice the price just because they put a French sounding name to it, I had a brainwave. You see, this morning, when the valet pulled up my car, I realized that after I tipped him, I was left with only twenty dollar bills. I needed to break a twenty for similar situations the rest of my trip. Decided to pay for the coffee with cash instead of my iPhone app.

I get coffee and I get change!! I was rather pleased with my increasing ingenuity as I age – admittedly ungracefully, as every family member of mine would helpingly point out. Transaction having been done thusly, I kept walking for some more time. Eventually my plane showed up. (They usually do). And I walked in.

As I settled down in my chair, a quarter slipped out of my pocket and noisily landed on the floor. As I picked it up, I had a couple of flashbacks and that is when I froze – Where is my coffee?? WHERE IS MY COFFEE?? There was no point searching my pockets or my bag. Even if it were possible to fit a cup of coffee there, it would still be highly undesirable. Even I knew that!

It dawned upon me – regrettably, I might add – that I was so enthralled in having managed to get some change, I simply walked away from the Starbucks after paying without bothering to pick up my coffee. I am sure with a smirk on my face too!

God! I am getting forgetful as I get old. One thing though – I am not sure what all this complaining of getting old is all about. I am thoroughly enjoying it! At what other age did I ever do something stupid and then agree with the world – “Rajib, you are an idiot!” … and then completely laugh it away?

Settled for a cup of what could best be described as “Delta’s apology to coffee”. I did not need any change though. It was free!!

This is in Atlanta airport. Note the board that shows the area for Gate 52/57. Behind the board, you can see the gate clearly marked Gate 52. If you notice carefully, on the left you can see Gate 50 and on the right you can see Gate 55. So, where is Gate 57?

As you can see, the gates were crowded – else, I was going to walk up to the gate agent and ask what the deal was all about.

I even wondered if the same gate carries two numbers. But why would anybody want to do that???

First time experience in over twenty years of flying… Preparations going on to receive a fallen soldier (in the hearse on the left) with full honors on the Tarmac.

There was something about the whole situation. Many fliers stopped and watched in silence… some saluted in respect before walking off to their own flights…

… when you are meeting more interesting people and creating more intersections than you are having time to write them down!! My bad, I did not get a chance to write this up…

Last week, I was in Portland for work. I took that opportunity to meet a very old runner friend – and by that I do not mean she is old – just that we have not run together for a long time. We used to run together in Atlanta almost ten years back. She moved to Salt Lake City and then to Portland.

I had seen from her FB friends that her parents had moved in with her and I asked her if all of us could go out for dinner together. She was – at that moment, at least – delighted by the idea. She then prepped me heavily – I was not to bring up the topic of when was she going to get married and settle down (she is unhitched still and they are Indian parents – you do the math) and I was not to talk about why Portland has a very rainy weather (her parents apparently would rather be in San Francisco where her brother is) and so on…

You know why I was grinning from ear to ear in the picture. Because I totally threw Reno (I forgot to mention her name – Ranjit alias Reno) under the bus in front of her parents. Apparently asking very seriously, “So, what are you thinking of around getting married?”, was all I needed to get her parents to instantaneously like me. And getting threats of bodily harm from Reno muttering under her breath.

The rest of the evening was awesome (from my perspective). Whenever I did not have anything else to say, I would go back to her finding a husband and her parents would jump in with total rejuvenation. Now, apparently, I am working on a June 30 deadline to find her a husband 🙂

In between those friendly ribbings though I got to know of Uncle’s very modest beginnings. Left India in 1967 and joined as a daily labor in Chicago. Carried on throughout his life as a blue collar worker. I was amazed at some of the sacrifices he and Auntie made throughout their lives to raise two great kids. HE talked about how some of his close friends came at the same time and rose thru the ranks of management but he stuck to the job he loved – although, financially, it was probably not the best choice. I was absolutely touched by his story and dedication to work.

It was almost a continuation of my spree of meeting parents in India a few weeks back. Of course, it is always great to see Reno. Although I am not sure she will be agreeing to see me next time, unless I drag in a potential suitor along with me 🙂