Tuesday, December 20, 2011

The Waiting Game


As I mentioned earlier, fog tends to delay trains. We managed to avoid this on the Delhi to Agra train, simply waiting for the train to come (on time), into the station.

But fog is a tricky creature, and though we awoke at 5:45am and got to the train station at 6:30, ready for the 6:40 train back to Delhi… it was delayed for an hour and a half.

Alright… it was a bit cold, but that would clear, and so we sat down on some metal chairs to wait for the train to come.

Patience is a funny thing. At times, you can sit for an hour and a half… and then three and a half (the train still hadn't managed to show up at 10 am. We got a taxi.), but at other times you can't wait another millisecond before telling someone something, be it good or bad.

After waiting for three and a half hours in the cold fogginess that was the Agra train station, Dad and Ioan went to find a taxi. The taxi meant five hours in a sedan— one person in front and four people in back, smooshed tightly. We bore this pretty easily— I read Middlemarch (which is almost done!) and Ileana either read or listened to music. Ioan and Dad played chess. Ioan and I also fell asleep, sleeping about one hour and a half each. We only stopped once, and that was for the driver.

In the car it got increasingly hot as we got closer to the airport— I had wool leg-warmers on, a windbreaker, and my Scottevest, but thankfully was wearing short sleeves. However, we all bore this pretty well for about four hours. Eventually though, about 40 km from Delhi Ileana and I couldn't stand it any more, and almost in sync we took off our extra layers.

We waited in line for the check-in, checking the parents' two bags, and then heard that our flight was delayed by twenty minutes.

And then later, by twenty minutes more.

At the airport pizza place, it was a fourteen minute waiting game for two medium Margherita pizzas, which were piping hot and ready to be consumed.

As we took the shuttlebus to the airplane, we had to wait almost two minutes for the bus driver to open the doors— and then again for the airport workers to drop full garbage bags from the top of the airplane door down to the asphalt below. They didn't spill at all.

Now, sitting in the airplane over the wing, looking out onto the sunset, waiting for us to reach Goa (where we'll be in the car for another 40km), I wonder the waiting game— how it changes depending on the situation.

I cannot wait for things I can change— whether it's walking faster or eating faster or making someone be quiet. But I can wait  patiently for something unchangeable— like a train schedule or the fog.

… But how come?

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