The unknown

I checked my flight ticket.
23rd July, 0150.
"Yes, ma, it is tomorrow early morning. As in, today late night," I said.
My mom sighed.

I knew why: an early morning (late night, actually) flight. She was slightly discomforted by the thought of leaving me alone in the airport for about an hour before I could board the flight back.
"Oh, what if you fall asleep," she said, worried, every bit of anxiety apparent in her voice.
Well, I knew it was a very high possibility, but of course, admitting that would leave my mom sleepless.
"Of course, not...they'll keep announcing, and if it's a night flight, there will actually be people looking around and asking people if they have to take this particular flight," I said. I had no idea if there were any people like this in the Chennai airport.

The day went by so fast that I felt startled when I found myself in the airport, boarding pass in hand, talking to my parents as they stood on the other side of the grill. Dad's advices of spending wisely (not too much, but do what you want, keep an eye on the expenses, etc.) and mom's advices about eating properly everyday (whatever happens, never compromise on food) made me feel like jumping over that metal barrier and going back with them to stay there for just another day.
When the call for security check came, I told them goodbye. Mom held my hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Take care, dear," she said.
Too scared that she might soon burst into tears, I quickly left the place.

As I went through the security screening, the guys in the counter who had checked my knapsack gave me odd looks as I collected it.
"Yeah, I have a bomb inside," I angrily muttered.
Mutt-heads.

I got into the flight. This would my first flight in any non-Indian carrier. The air hostesses, for a change, were young and pleasant, and not like some I had met before, who would make me think a lot before asking them for anything.

Soon came dinner time (or whatever meal that was). I was actually starving. I eagerly opened the salad that only had leaves, so neatly wrapped, in the food tray. And then opened the big box. A damp squib.
Non vegetarian food.
"Excuse me," I called to the hostess. "Can I have some vegetarian food, please?"
"Please wait, ma'am," she said and disappeared inside the veiled cabin.
She returned shortly.
"Ma'am, may I know what preference you had given in your ticket about the food?" she asked.

I was nonplussed. Food preference? I had no clue that this carrier had something like that. Then it struck me that my travel agent had not bothered to get that bit of detail from me when I booked the ticket.
"Umm..I don't think I mentioned any..."I said.
"I see...Well, ma'am, I am really sorry, but we ran out of veggie food trays. We are very sorry, but this has never quite happened before. Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked.

Damn, I thought.
Unpleasant first times happening with me.
"Yes, some of this salad, please," I said, pointing to that leafy mass in my tray.
"Sure ma'am, can I get you a drink?"

I sat staring at the detachable table. A glass of Coke, and two boxes of that leafy salad. Munching the last few bits of salad left, I felt bovine. These leaves were never getting in, they kept coming on how much ever I chewed. Damn them, I cursed.
I was reminded of home. How much I had fussed to eat idli or upma, I thought. I would even eat that rava upma I so hated, now. The hunger soon vanished.

The hostess was kind enough to later come and hand over a bun. I spread some butter and pushed it in.

The four-hour flight went by quick, thankfully. I didn't want to be the victim of anymore 'this is the first time' crap.

I finally reached my room. As none of my friends would be awake at this 'unearthly' 8 30 in the morning on a Sunday, I had to contend myself with unpacking and getting excited about the new stuff I had bought from the trip home.

The room had now come back to normal.
I reached for my knapsack and started emptying its contents. Mom had put in a lot of things in it. I smiled.
She had put in the jewellery box I had to refuse to take because of lack of space.
Mom, she can fit in anything, I thought.
There was some box I never remembered seeing before, when I was packing at home.
I opened it.
Then I realised why the security screening guys were glaring at me in their counter.

Inside the box were 4 idlis, with evenly spread molagai podi on them.
I smelled them. They had become spoilt.
With a heavy heart I threw them away.

P.S.: No, this is not a true story.