The blessed 16 hour layover in Delhi

This is long but you should enjoy it if you've ever set foot foot in an airport, traveled, or even ever seen an airplane.

IGI, the airport in Delhi, is not what we would call by any stretch of the imagination efficient or comfortable. When we landed at 11:30pm there was so much fog/pollution in the air that the pilot couldn’t navigate to the gate. Looking out the window I couldn’t see the wing, and I was sitting on top the wing. The pilot called for a truck so we could follow it to the gate, but the truck got lost in the fog. A 747 wandering around airstrips shrouded in fog with other planes coming and going is a formula for a really good news story that I didn’t want to be featured in. We parked in a safe place and 3 hours later, after a tractor came and towed us close to arrivals. Having napped most of the way to IGI, and the 3 hours on the runway, the best part of my experience in Delhi is now over.
I entered arrivals around 2:30am and was greeted by a guard armed with an AK47 . . . that was surprising. Most people in the plane were stopping in India and headed for customs, but since I was flying on to another international destination I didn’t think I needed to go through customs so I asked an official looking person that wasn’t armed where I should go to connect to the Bangladesh flight. He confirmed that I didn’t need to go through customs and said he would show me where to go. He said in English but with a deep Indian accent, “I’ll take u where you need to go. Stay here, I’ll be right back” and then he disappeared. I thought Great, I don’t know where I am, I don’t speak Hindi, there’s a guy with a gun over there, I don’t know where I’m supposed to be going . . . at least I have 12 hours to figure it out, should be fun. Eventually that gentleman came back and led me up to "Transfers." Transfers is like limbo; it is a small place somewhere in between security and the terminals. In Transfers you don’t have a boarding pass so you can’t go into the terminal area, you just get to look at it with its little shops and restaurants and nice chairs. Transfers is a small area full of people waiting for “someone to come find them” and give them a boarding ticket because there’s no information desk or self-serve kiosks to get one, just hundreds—literally hundreds—of airport workers walking around. Transfers is a, did I mention small, place where there are two electrical plugs and when u finally get one to plug ur laptop in, you find out that there’s no wifi; despite all the signs that say ‘free wifi’ it is only accessible if you have a certain Cell phone carrier. At some point I just decided, more so hoped, that someone knew what was going on in this really confusing, stuffy, smelly place and I would simply wait for “someone to come get me” while I read a book for another 10 hours. Bad assumption. In Amsterdam I received a piece of paper labeled “boarding pass: Delhi to Dhaka.” So, one would think that I could use my “boarding pass” to get from Transfers to the actual terminal area, but upon attempting this I was told what I had was not a boarding pass despite false labeling and that someone would come to Transfers to give me my boarding pass.
Fast forward a few hours and chapters later, my plane was supposed to leave @ 12:25 out of gate 01 according to the flight schedule posted on the tv screen-important detail, remember 12:25. After not coming at the 3 times they promised me they would come to give me my boarding pass, they arrived with my pass at 11:55, gates close 15 minutes prior to take-off, giving me 30 minutes to get through security and get to my gate which was not printed on my ticket. OK, game plan: get through security, rush to gate 01 and get on the plane and finally be free of IGI. Step 1, I got through security very quickly with no problem, but before I could proceed to gate 01 I hear my name on the intercom: “Passenger Bryan Miller meet Miss Punja at security station.” Mrs. Punja was an airline worker to whom I gave my non-boarding pass marked “boarding pass” after the 2 other workers who said they would come at 10:30 and 11:15 did not come with my boarding pass. Mrs. Punja said she would go get my pass and meet me in Transfers in less than 10 minutes. When a man came 30 minutes later with my ticket, I assumed they had crossed paths at the printer…yet another bad assumption. So after I found the security station they said I had lost my boarding pass and wondered how I had gotten through security. I showed them my “boarding pass” which they said was a duplicate and they had my original boarding pass, but they would tear it up for me. I don’t know which was more frustrating: a) that my flight was leaving in 15 minutes and I wasn’t on it, or b) when I tried to get through security the first time they wouldn’t let me, or 3) that I sat in Transfers for almost 9 hours when maybe I could have been in the terminal area. All easily remedied IF SOMEONE THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW ACUTALLY KNEW WHAT WAS GOING ON! Well I walked through the small terminal area and saw gate 5, gate 4, gate 3 . . . and then the numbers stopped. Where were gates 2 and 1? I asked someone and they said downstairs. So I walked around looking for the stairs and found them hidden behind a couple hundred Iranian soldiers in full uniform. I got to gate 01 and it was now boarding for Istambul… bewildered as to why, since the screen still said Dhaka 12:15 gate 01, that at 12:05 it was boarding for Istambul. Asking the airline worker at gate 01 revealed that he didn’t know anything about a Dhaka plane, to ask at gate 02 which was boarding for Katmandu. Well I finally found someone that knew something at gate 02! The Dhaka flight had been delayed and would leave at 2:00 he said, but he didn’t know from which gate but to go ask information. There was now an information desk once you get past security into the terminal area. Back upstairs, past the Iranian soldiers, information said, looking at me like I was an ignoramus, look at the screen, it says gate 01. Laughing I pointed out that it said it was also leaving right then, but had been delayed to 2:00 which the screen had not relayed to said ignoramus. Well after going back and forth from gate 01, gate 02, information, gate10, information, and gate 05, I finally took a gamble and sat down at gate 02. Successful gamble, we finally boarded at 2:30. While lining up at gate 02 to board, I glanced at the Flight screen which still said “Dhaka Gate 01 12:25.” Finally, 16 hours later, bewildered, annoyed, thankful and relieved, I finally flew out of IGI at 3:00pm.
When I got to Dhaka everything was well made up for by near ideal airport situations. There was a short line at immigration where they didn’t ask me any questions at all and stamped my passport. I walked to baggage and my bags were among the first on the belt. With my bags on a luggage cart, I walked right out of the airport past scanners, customs declaration people, and more armed guards. At that point I was nearly attacked by “You have a ride? Do you need help? Taxi boss? Taxi? Taxi?” I asked a guard where the phones were so I could call Rick and he handed me his cell phone and walked off. I called Rick who was on his way, the guard walked back with 2 more smiling guards, and took his phone, and I met up with Rick.