The Meet Up

So as mentioned, Noah and I took different flights.  Mine arrived at 2am, his at 6am. Not ideal. 

My biggest fear was that we were not going to be able to find each other- someone’s flight would get canceled, one of us would have to make a last minute hotel switch. Yikes!

We decided to meet at a hotel and chose one based on (price obvi) its proximity and free airport pick up (which were really the only things it had going for it) but the latter of the two didn’t work so well.

When we booked the hotel, we received a confirmation email with instructions for the airport pick up. They were quite explicit—do not go home with anyone who says they’re from the hotel if they don’t have your name written down, they will take you to another hotel and get a commission; if you arrive and can’t find the hotel pick-up guy, call this number but don’t let anyone else dial it because they will call someone else and pretend that our hotel is closed and take you to another hotel and get a commission. It went on…

I got off the plane, exhausted, cleared customs without incident, and then walked through this weird long hallway where one side is entirely floor to ceiling windows with lots of eager families awaiting their loved ones with their noses squished up against the glass. I felt like I was a fish in an aquarium. I successfully found the ATM and headed out to the mass of people holding up signs with people’s names on them. Alas, none of them was mine.

So I was ready for some trickery and of course, the guy wasn’t there to pick me up. Now locating a phone was quite a process but eventually I came across this:

Ah the payphone.

I know it sucks to compare countries but I’m going to. In Mali, getting off the airplane at 3am is also a trial (though I now never expect the airport pick up to come through) but mostly because everyone is busy trying to be so helpful. People want to help you buy a local SIM card, offer you their services as a guide, help you find a taxi, or just ask you about what life in your country is like.  Helpful is not how I would describe the folks hanging out outside the airport in Mumbai.  Especially not my friend running the phone booth. Getting him to pull off his earphones to listen to my question was a hassle—each of the three times it happened.  He was pretty uninterested in if I ever successfully made my phone call and paid him. It was a solid ten minutes of trying before he decided to get involved.

Pick-up dude showed up an hour late, but without a car. So he just kept me company for another half hour until the car came as well.  Not a great start.

I was a little concerned that the same scene was going to play out for Noah so I told the hotel that I’d accompany the guy to pick him up (after all, I know what he looks like so that should speed things along, also I could be sure that we went on time and to the right terminal).  So I took a power nap on the less then clean bed (see allersac) and the front desk called me at 5:30 to go pick him up. They handed me a smashed cell phone with two phone numbers programmed in- the driver and the front desk- and sent me on my way with a driver who spoke no English but thankfully (and randomly) spoke some Arabic so we got by.

 I found Noah no problem. First mission accomplished.