I had to catch an early morning flight after my mom’s birthday.
So, I packed my up my things and said my goodbyes to my relatives. (I was staying at my mom’s cousin’s house.)
Then, Dad and I started driving back to our house in Chennai…
“I gotta get up by 5 am right?”
I ask from the passenger seat.
“When’s your flight?” dad asks while driving.
“8 am.”
“Yeah, 5 am should be good. You need to leave by 6,” dad replies as we reach our house.
It’s raining.
So, I take out my suitcase from the car and jog inside to avoid the rain.
But as I walk towards the door I notice something.
“Ooo… that’s a lot of water.”
The path to my door is flooded with at least 2 inches of water. So is the garden.
But no worries.
Dad had lined up a few cement bricks till the door, just in case something like this happened.
But one problem though.
The first brick is too far.
… annnd I have 15 kg suitcase in my hand.
It’s okay.
I just gotta stretch my leg a little to reach.
That’s all.
So, I inch closer towards the water trying to feel out how close I need to be to jump. And just when I think I’m close enough to leap across…
… I feel moisture.
FUCK!
I look down.
And there it is. My grey shoes — that I need to wear to the airport tomorrow — have a wet spot right in the toes. 🦶
It’s okay.
It’s just 8 pm right now. I have 9 hours till I need to wear them again.
They’ll dry out by tomorrow.
I hop on the bricks and make my way to the front door and inside the house. I finally get to put down my fatass suitcase and backpack.
It’s time sleep.
Gotta wake up at 5 am. But Cyclone Michaung had other plans.
*Foreshadowing intensifies*
Then a few hours later…
Hmmm…
I didn’t hear the alarm.
Why am I’m up so early?
And…
What’s that noise?
Wait, what’s that light? Is that a… flashlight?
“Hello?” I ask the floating light.
“… dad?”
“Oh, you’re up?” dad replies holding up his phone with the flash.
The noise is getting louder and moving towards me.
“Is there no power?” I think to myself. “And what’s that noise?”
“It’s still raining outside and there’s no power,” dad tells me standing across the room.
And that’s when I realise…
The noise was coming from dad.
I twist to my side and look down.
…
…
… water?
WHY’S THERE SO MUCH WATER?!
Oh shit.
The house is flooded.
There’s water everywhere. I see the reflection of dad’s flashlight on the water.
The 2 inches of water outside the house is now INSIDE the house.
Then it dawns on me.
Wait, what about my suitcase?
What about my clothes?
What about my SHOES?!
I turn to dad and ask him, “where’s my suitcase, dad?”
“I put on the table last night,” he replies. “I put it there in case the rain didn’t stop.”
And the rain, in fact, did not stop.
But there’s a new problem in town.
The water outside that was just 2 inches earlier… well… now it’s at least 8 inches. Plus it’s still raining.
It’s okay.
I’ll just walk barefoot to the car and wear my shoes inside.
Problem solved.
Hmmm…
But the road are flooded.
How do I go the airport?
“Dad, do you think I can go the airport in the metro?” I ask.
“Check the metro timing,” dad replies sitting on chair looking down at his phone. “I think it starts from 6.”
“Yeah, that will work for me.”
So, I take out of a pant from my suitcase and stuff it into my backpack.
I’ll change in the car.
I put my shoes in a cover and hand it to dad. Then I put my suitcase on my shoulder ready to go.
I take my first step and
the water is above my ankle.
So glad I’m not wearing shoes.
But there’s still like 30 steps to go. Plus I don’t know what’s gonna be under my feet. Can’t walk fast or take any big leaps.
Dad’s walking in front of me with an umbrella. After a few more steps we reach the car.
Luckily, the road seems unaffected by this flooding.
I toss my suitcase in the back seat and get in the car.
Time to go.
The metro station is just 1 km away. So dad starts the car and we’re on our way. But…
… the end of the road is flooded.
WHYYY?!
😡
So, we turn around and take the longer route to the metro station.
After dodging a lot of flooded areas and driving through an ungodly amount of water, we reach the station.
Well, at least now I can relax.
The metro is dry.
And the airport will also be dry.
No more getting drenched.
I reach the airport which is just 30 mins from my place, get through security, and now…
… well, now I wait for the flight.
Just 30 mins to go.
I look at the flight display screen.
Time 7:30:45
ETA 8:00
Let’s go the gate. (I was sitting a little bit away from the gate because it was too crowded. But I should’ve realised why that was the case.)
Huh, there’s no line.
Why didn’t boarding start yet?
I walk up to the the gate counter and ask the attendant, “When is the boarding for the Delhi flight?”
“Sir, the flight is delayed,” she replies. “We’ll let you know when the boarding starts.”
Yeah, it is raining a lot.
No biggie.
A little delay is fine. There is a cyclone near Chennai after all.
That’s when I notice something else.
The flight to Kolkata is also from Gate 12. But the Kolkata flight should have started boarding a while ago. (It was supposed to fly at 7:00.)
But no boarding.
And the screen doesn’t show a delay either.
I walk back to the gate.
“The Kolkata flight is canceled.”
I overhear some people talking to the attendant at the counter.
Huh?
Canceled?
Will my flight also get canceled?
Nahhh.
They would’ve sent a message by now if the flight was canceled.
Because that what they did for my mom’s flight.
Mom was supposed to fly in the evening. But dad got a message that the flight was canceled.
It was only 3 hours later I realised. “My flight got canceled, didn’t it?”
Indigo didn’t make any announcement. But no flight had taken off in the last hour.
This time…
It’s NOT okay.
I go up to the attendant and ask what I should do. He said I can reschedule my flight or get a refund.
So, I got a refund.
The refund line was a lot shorter. 😂
Moral of the story:
Don’t fly during a cyclone.
I reached home at 2 pm.
I spent over 7 hours in the airport and almost an hour travelling.
So, no forced copywriting pitches this time.
Just a 1200 word email about my hardships. 🥲
Tejesh Reddy
P.S. I would’ve edited this more if it wasn’t 2 am. But that what I get for trying to write stories like Daniel Throssell.