Year: 2005

After a long time, things started going right for a change.
7:15pm: Get out of office.
7:22pm: Walk into train platform exactly as the train arrives. The right train.
7:40pm: Long walk to change trains at London Bridge. Once again, the train arrives bang on cue.
7:47pm: Another change of platform at Bank. Train to Newbury Park arrives almost immediately.
8:15pm: Out of Newbury Park station.
That was easily the shortest ride I had from Croydon to Newbury Park. Probably will continue to be the shortest ever.

For a long time, I thought the problems associated with getting an American visas was mainly for Indians. Today, I met someone at a Lebanese restaurant near Marble Arch. (It’s called Maroush III. There are at least a couple of other Maroushs in the area.) He’s a consultant, and has been travelling around the globe for over 20 years.

He recently flew from Boston to Bangalore. Without a visa. Why? Because he would be issued a visa at the port of entry, of course. Stands in the queue. Hands his passport to the officer. The officer leafs through the pages. Halts. Studies each page very carefully. Gets puzzled.

“Where is the visa?”

“I don’t have one. So please issue me on.”

At this, the official is startled. “Come this way, please.” And they go into a room in some corner. Left alone for a while. Two officials come back with lots of forms.

While patiently filling the forms, one of the officials says, “You’ll have to go back, you know?”

There must have been a faint smile as he said it. “No, you’re just kidding me!”

“No, no. You must go back on this flight to London.”

Disbelief. “Ha, ha! Quite funny. You’re just pulling my leg. Now, just give me a visa.”

“No, really. You must return by this flight immediately.

Having travelled for 16 hours from Boston, he heads back to London spending another 8 hours on the flight.

He is, incidentally, the only person I know (Indian or otherwise) who would have to tick “Yes” to the question “Have you ever been refused entry at the port of disembarkation?”

P.S. He DID get an Indian visa later. It was a painless process — apply in the morning, collect in the evening.

We were staying at the Croydon Park Hotel, on the second floor. There were two elevators, and one of them was down for maintenance. I was walking into the other elevator as the maintenance man stepped in as well. He started pressing the elevator buttons: one, two…

“Oh, sorry sir. I was doing some maintenance on the other lift. I didn’t want this lift to come down for some time. You go right ahead.”

He stepped out, with the first and second floors lit up. I thought I’d help him a bit. Pressed 3, 4, 5, … every button there was in the lift

I got out at the second floor. A tall, well-dressed man got in to the elevator. Turned around. Looked at me.

“Is this going down?”

Before I could answer, the doors shut.

Hope he enjoyed the view of every floor in the hotel.

I always wondered what cuisines were famous other than the ones I knew (Indian, Chinese, Thai, Mexican, Italian, Lebanese, Continental). I’d heard of Ethiopian food from Rajeev Ved, but never of Argentinian and Spanish. I spotted a couple of menu cards while walking down Croydon.

There was a geek dinner at London yesterday. Pity I didn’t know about it.