finding rickshaw.

This post is from early March.

In late February, I went to Abu Dhabi to visit my friend Felix and meet Mihira on her spring break.  When I got to the Ahmedabad airport, I was informed that I was going to miss my connecting flight.  All the flights were on-time, but to transfer from Mumbai’s domestic to international airport would take 30 minutes or so.  Given that I had purchased the entire ticket through Jet Airways,  I was able to convince them to book me on an earlier flight on another airline.  They warned me that I would still be cutting close, but I wasn’t alarmed.

Now, this is a large departure from the old Rick who to avoid travel anxiety arrived at the airport 2 hours before a domestic flight.  I had lived in India for six months and had not encountered any severe travel difficulties that weren’t immediately resolvable.  Typical, overconfident American.

I landed in Mumbai and was told that the connecting bus had just left and that my only alternative was to take  a taxi for Rs. 150 ($3) to the other airport.  I hustled outside (mistake #1) drawing the attention of a few pushy drivers insistent on taking me to the airport.  The prepaid taxi line was at least 20 minutes long, so I agreed and followed one guy to his car (mistake #2).   A five minute jog and a drenched shirt later, I was led to a dark parking lot where I got into a car that had 2 people in the front seat.  They gave me a price sheet and said that it would be  Rs. 500 ($10).   Converting into dollars and considering the time, I agreed (mistake #3).  As we turned out of the parking lot, I was told that if I wanted to get there in under 15 minutes, it would be Rs. 1,000.  Now, feeling like I had no choice and thinking that $20 was better than missing my flight and sleeping in the airport, I handed him a Rs. 500 note and 5 Rs. 100 notes (mistake #4).   Moments later, he turned around and while flaunting my money in the air, he sternly said that I had only given him Rs. 500.  Anxious Rick was back.

I began muttering in broken Gujarati about how he was ripping me off.  He understood every word and turned the tables.  Accusing me of lying, he began to empty his pockets to prove his innocence.  He told me not to worry and said that I could just pay in US Dollars.  I told him I wasn’t American (he laughed) and didn’t have any dollars, just rupees.  Defeated, I gave him another Rs. 500 note, effectively bankrupting myself (mistake #5).  Unappeased, he told me that the total wasn’t Rs. 1,000 but Rs. 2,500 because it was at night – he even pulled out a new pricing sheet to support his case.  At this point, I was in a random alley at 10PM in between Mumbai’s domestic and international airports, with no money, 95% sure I was going to miss my flight, drenched in sweat from the heat, and with two men who were milking me for what came to be one month AIF living stipend.

I told them I had no more money (mistake #6) and began to threaten to jump out of the car (I’m all talk, I had a large suitcase).  Right then we conveniently pulled up to an ATM machine.  Option A: Go inside and get the Rs. 2,000 extra or Option B: Get out of the car and walk away.  I chose Option A, took my camera and passport with me and hoped that the car wouldn’t drive away with my stuff.  I gave the guy the money and as soon as I did, another car drove up.  I was transferred into that car and proceeded to the airport.  Very well thought out operation.

I lost Rs. 3,000 ($60) on what should have been a free bus ride.   I did however make my flight (last one on…felt bad for the family in my row though).

I’m done with Mumbai*.  I love simple Ahmedabad.

*April 19 weekend has since converted me into a huge Mumbai fan.

~ by findingrickshaw on April 27, 2009.

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