Balloons full of hot air

As one who has been flying for the past 50 years, I am used to the odd behaviour of some VIP passengers on board. No, not all of them are bad. In fact, some are worse, suffering from delusions of grandeur.

The incident of an MP beating up an airline staffer with a slipper 25 times (maybe his lucky number chosen by a panel of numerologists) because he was seated in the cattle class, never mind an aircraft with business class was not available, still rankles in the memory of airline circles. 

An obnoxious politician, who was drunk with power and alcohol, asked for a glass of milk. When the air hostess apologetically told him they had only pre-mixed coffee and tea on board, that worthy growled, “I care two hoots. When I want milk, I should be served milk, even if it is your own!”

I had once the misfortune of witnessing an odd demand of a minister, that too a lady. As I was reading a book, the air hostess came on the double and asked a young mother who was patting her child, head rested on the small pillow the airlines provide gratis.

“Madam, can you please give me that pillow. A VIP passenger wants one. Unfortunately, we have only this pillow on board.” Before I could intervene and protest, the young mother eased out the pillow, and gave it to the air hostess.

The cherubic child, instead of bawling as most would do, smiled beatifically, perhaps  sending a message that people only age, not mature. It was a short haul flight. Couldn’t the minister travel without a pillow under her nape? Nope!

One time, I boarded a flight at Calcutta and settled, fastening the seatbelt for take-off. Minutes passed but the captain’s guttural command for the crew to “close and arm all the doors” didn’t come thro­ugh. I asked a passing stewardess what was causing the delay. She said, “technical reasons, sir.” I thought of the worst, like a frisky mouse sighted near the galley. But no. The flight had been delayed for a VIP who would reach any moment.

Before long, there was a commotion near the front exit. Many coated and booted businessmen were on their feet, arguing, shouting and gesticulating and threatening that they would not let in the VIP, who had just ascended the steps. Hot words were exchanged and the senior airport official shepherding  the VIP was told that all the passengers would disembark if the late comer was allowed to board. The tall VIP knew when he was licked and withdrew with as much dignity as he could muster.

In a jump cut scenario, when I was travelling to Madurai from Chennai by the prestigious overnight Pandiyan Express in the now defunct first class coach, I got up for my nocturnal visit  to the loo. As I passed the coupe, I was surprised to see the door open and all window shutters up. I could see a tall man sleeping spread-eagled without even a pillow.

The sentry with his firearm told me when I enquired, ‘Sir, it is Chief minister Kamaraj Aiya. My orders are to remain unseen by CM Aiya. If he sees me, he will get annoyed and order me to detrain at the next station.” I shook my head in bewilderment. No wonder, he was called the down-to-earth politician!