In Transit

If in the future they ever do put buildings on the moon then it‘ll look and feel just like Abu Dhabi airport - a lifeless, timeless and seemingly airless shithole filled with zombies like me trudging around in circles pensively and repeatedly glancing up at the departure board for confirmation that the end of their time here is nigh. Every time I’ve been here it’s always around 2am but time is irrelevant as it’s always halfway between where you were and where you want to be.
Being in India for a prolonged period can be a challenge, sure, but leaving it is almost fucking impossible. Mumbai airport has sphincter-tight security and they go about the business of making your life a misery with relish. Without a doubt, the queues between passport control and security are the slowest moving I’ve ever encountered but, hey, this is still India even if it does feel as if airports are autonomous states at times. The security guards check and double check everything - I’m half expecting them to wheel out fucking Liberace slipping a latex glove onto his hand to say “And I’ll be performing the cavity search.”
Somehow as I was boarding in Mumbai I was told that I’d been upgraded to business class - they didn’t explain and I didn’t ask. I’ve only travelled business class once before - again an upgrade - but that was on Aeroflot so it doesn’t count. Business class on Aeroflot makes Ryanair look like Etihad. Mumbai to Abu Dhabi was only a three hour flight but in my exhausted state I didn’t take advantage of my luxury at all. I can remember ordering a white wine and it being placed within reach before I passed out, waking only as we made our approach to Abu Dhabi.