Arrived at the airport after 31 hours of traveling and
immediately put on my bitchy, 'I got this figured out all by my self, thank you
very much’ face and wandered out into the street as a blonde backpack sandwich
thinking I knew shit. I didn’t.
Even though
I’d been told the hotel was right across the street from the airport, it was a
ridiculously big airport and an insanely big street filled with enormous
amounts of screaming, sweaty, honking people. I walked half a mile in my
instantly two sizes smaller Nike’s before I faced reality. Mission abort.
I turned
around with my tail between my legs (those sticky MC Hammer pants that makes me
look like Mayladdin) and walked right back past all those people I told a taxi
was the last thing I needed in the world.
Back at the airport I persuaded the
entrance guard to let me re-enter and exchanged money for a ridiculous rate
in order to take a Norwegian priced taxi to the hotel right around the corner.
Well now, it was a pretty ginormous corner filled with thousands of Indians on
scooters, tuktuks, taxis, cars, and buses all fighting to fit into one lane simultaneously.
Welcome to India!
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