It all started a few months back, when one of my friends sent out a mail saying "When and where do we plan our next vacation?". I got all excited, since I had a lot of PLs pending, and was keen to get away for a short break. Those of you who know me (and my legendary laziness), would have knowingly smiled and told themselves "What's new? This type of planning on email happens all the time. Nothing comes out of it." I agree, I have been guilty of starting quite a few of these 'grand plans' which (like the people involved) went nowhere. And like so many previous times, this one too fizzled out (although it was not SRK's fault this time. I blame a guy called RK!).
I should not be saying this, for my mom happens to read my blog, but it's been tough finding single people to go vacationing with. And I am not even expecting super hot single ladies who'll sit for a late night session and knock back a few drinks with me while we ponder the utter meaninglessness of life (although that would indeed be nice!). All I ask for is for some of the idiots with whom I spent countless nights sipping cutting chai and eating midnight-Maggi at hostel to take a few days off from whatever mind-numbing work they are doing and come along, so that we can go someplace far and sip cutting chai and eat midnight-Maggi and crib about whatever mind-numbing work we are doing. But those idiots are all married with kids (and in spite of my whining here, I am genuinely happy for them!), leaving me with fewer and fewer options.
And so when some of my friends at work pointed out that there was a mid-week break thanks to a saint called Mahavir who happened to be celebrating his birthday (and bless his soul for giving us this pathway to peace of mind!), and by taking a Thu-Fri off, we could take off for a 5-day holiday, I was so happy that I almost gave up non-veg and potato and onions. Till they mentioned Goa and thoughts of fish curry and prawn balchao restored my sanity.
And so, plans were made. And re-made. Flight tickets were booked and leave applied for. Umpteen mails were exchanged on where to stay, with each guy giving his opinion. Except me, all I wanted was a place which has running water in the loo. Not for me some fancy-shmancy deluxe pad where they expect you to use paper. And so, when the guys finally said they have found a place (close to the beach, has a pool, a pool table, and yes, water ass-jet in the loo!), I jumping-jhapanked at it (that reminds me, that lady Farah Khan needs a vacation. To some place far off. Permanently. For inflicting the most idiotic moves, movies and brother on us!).
Enough people, including some Goa ex-residents asked me whether I was mad to be planning a trip to Goa in this weather? They warned me that it'd be too hot at the beach and we'll just be cooped up in our room. That I'll come back tanned and dark-er (like I wasn't already!). I was just desperate to get out of the city (I mean, Bombay wasn't experiencing Bangalore weather, so might as well sweat it out in shorts and vest on a beach instead of full formal wear at office!).
And so it was, that five guys swaggered down (Kaante-, no Reservoir Dogs- style) through the security check-in. Correction, the other four did, I frantically ran in since I was late. All thanks to a taxi driver who insisted on asking for "Rs.50 above the meter" and then drove down s-l-o-w-l-y since I argued with him and threatened to complain to the cops. I even took a pic of his number plate, but now the vacation is done, and I have cooled down and am not in the mood to report him.
Anyways, as I stepped into the flight, I was ready to leave the hectic workplace, the disappointment of not going someplace better, the nagging of random uncles who meet me for the first time, ask my age and comment on why I should get married soon, the irritating taxi drivers and all my cares behind. If only for a few days. A few precious days. Preciously few days.
(to be continued... I wanted to write it in one post, but I have rambled on and on and we haven't even come to the start of the trip. And I am too lazy to edit. I promise to wrap it up faster than Ekta Kapoor though!)
I should not be saying this, for my mom happens to read my blog, but it's been tough finding single people to go vacationing with. And I am not even expecting super hot single ladies who'll sit for a late night session and knock back a few drinks with me while we ponder the utter meaninglessness of life (although that would indeed be nice!). All I ask for is for some of the idiots with whom I spent countless nights sipping cutting chai and eating midnight-Maggi at hostel to take a few days off from whatever mind-numbing work they are doing and come along, so that we can go someplace far and sip cutting chai and eat midnight-Maggi and crib about whatever mind-numbing work we are doing. But those idiots are all married with kids (and in spite of my whining here, I am genuinely happy for them!), leaving me with fewer and fewer options.
And so when some of my friends at work pointed out that there was a mid-week break thanks to a saint called Mahavir who happened to be celebrating his birthday (and bless his soul for giving us this pathway to peace of mind!), and by taking a Thu-Fri off, we could take off for a 5-day holiday, I was so happy that I almost gave up non-veg and potato and onions. Till they mentioned Goa and thoughts of fish curry and prawn balchao restored my sanity.
And so, plans were made. And re-made. Flight tickets were booked and leave applied for. Umpteen mails were exchanged on where to stay, with each guy giving his opinion. Except me, all I wanted was a place which has running water in the loo. Not for me some fancy-shmancy deluxe pad where they expect you to use paper. And so, when the guys finally said they have found a place (close to the beach, has a pool, a pool table, and yes, water ass-jet in the loo!), I jumping-jhapanked at it (that reminds me, that lady Farah Khan needs a vacation. To some place far off. Permanently. For inflicting the most idiotic moves, movies and brother on us!).
Enough people, including some Goa ex-residents asked me whether I was mad to be planning a trip to Goa in this weather? They warned me that it'd be too hot at the beach and we'll just be cooped up in our room. That I'll come back tanned and dark-er (like I wasn't already!). I was just desperate to get out of the city (I mean, Bombay wasn't experiencing Bangalore weather, so might as well sweat it out in shorts and vest on a beach instead of full formal wear at office!).
And so it was, that five guys swaggered down (Kaante-, no Reservoir Dogs- style) through the security check-in. Correction, the other four did, I frantically ran in since I was late. All thanks to a taxi driver who insisted on asking for "Rs.50 above the meter" and then drove down s-l-o-w-l-y since I argued with him and threatened to complain to the cops. I even took a pic of his number plate, but now the vacation is done, and I have cooled down and am not in the mood to report him.
Anyways, as I stepped into the flight, I was ready to leave the hectic workplace, the disappointment of not going someplace better, the nagging of random uncles who meet me for the first time, ask my age and comment on why I should get married soon, the irritating taxi drivers and all my cares behind. If only for a few days. A few precious days. Preciously few days.
(to be continued... I wanted to write it in one post, but I have rambled on and on and we haven't even come to the start of the trip. And I am too lazy to edit. I promise to wrap it up faster than Ekta Kapoor though!)
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Flight? I thought you'd have taken a train.Maybe You don't enjoy travelling by train like old-timers,who find
ReplyDeleteIt's romantic and slows down time.
@ Anon:
ReplyDeleteTrain is for those who have the luxury of time, both in terms of commute and in terms of knowing sufficiently in advance about when they go on a vacation.
I'd rather reach Goa quickly and then slow down time :)