Armrest Battles

Armrests, in public spaces, are a real test of aggression. Sometimes it's on buses, in movie theaters, or on airplanes - all these places require an unspoken battle and concession between the two potential occupants of the armrest.

I had two flights in the last two weeks, both of which pushed me to claim my armrest. It's pretty annoying when your neighbor "seems" to be sleeping and "accidentally" pushes your arm off. It's also frustrating to have to keep paying attention to the use of the space - if your neighbor takes his arm off for a brief second, you have to be quick to slide your arm right in there. Or, if you need to go to the bathroom - you are pretty much conceding that armrest till the next potential break.

So, why don't companies just make double armrests the norm and save us all this passive aggressive posturing? I've noticed it in Business or First Class, but the rest of us have to go elbow to elbow to claim our territory.

and here we go again...

I love technology, most of the time. I love it right now, for instance, as I sit in the Bangalore (sorry, Bengalooru) Airport using their free Wifi to check my mail on my laptop (which hasn't happened in a few weeks). Sometimes it's overwhelming, that constant connectedness. I like quiet time - time when I can't be reached, time when I don't feel obligated to contact someone else, time to be with my thoughts. But right now, I like that I can be in this airport and almost forget that I am here.

Time and space completely perplex me. This morning, I was in Jayanagar 4th Block. Tomorrow afternoon, I will be with my Dad (yeah!) driving home on the Taconic Parkway to my home in our longtime baby blue Toyota Camry. It's not deep or unusual - people travel all the time. But when I sit back and think about it, I go through this whole "What the fuck?" moment. What does it all mean?? Nothing of course. It just means that we have airplanes.

It's ridiculous how humans are. The moment we have something, we want something else. The moment I left New York, I dreamed of exotic cheeses that I would miss and sinful pastries. And Mexican food. The moment I got to the airport today, I had this "anxiety craving" for things I wouldn't get for a couple of months. Alu buns. Samosas. Kachoris. So I promptly ordered a pav bhaji and salt lassi as though it were my last supper.

The more I get used to a bi-continental lifestyle, the more I feel grateful that I have several places to call my home. And by home, I mean places where I feel so incredibly welcome and at ease. Cities where I feel total control in getting around, knowing where to get what. The other day somebody in Bangalore asked me for directions and I gave them with confidence, like a local. Another day, I walked through a dense crowd of people just to buy a few samosas - normally I would have been deterred by the sight of the people. But I totally busted through (while talking on my cell phone, like a true Indian!) and ordered in Kannada and even had a small conversation. These little encounters are like mini triumphs for me and make me feel like this really is another home of mine too.

And now, off to my other home, wtih its bountiful clean air and snowstorms and my wonderful new President.

2008

I am quite happy to be out of the two thousand and eighth year. Really, it was long, tiring, and it had its share of disappointments and mini obstacles. Yes, that's what life is like, but sometimes you just want a small sign that things are going to get better. And it had loss. Profound, never-experienced-before, and nothing-will-ever-be-the-same-again kind of loss that will forever taint any future recollections of what the year was like.

It's still difficult to write about it. To use that word. The d-word. There's something very harsh and crude about it. At least when you use it to talk about someone you knew, not some distant murder victim in the news or a historical figure. I will think of any way to avoid saying it. All the euphemisms. He has passed. He is no longer with us. In Tamil we say, roughly translated, that he has surrendered to God's paradise. None of these has that punched-in-the-gut kind of feeling that comes from uttering the d-word.

Anyway, it has been a paradox. The simultaneous feelings of emptiness and tremendous heaviness. The attempt to "move on" and yet tenaciously hold on to every memory. Recreating moments in fine detail - the timber of voice, the gait, the laughter, the quirky mannerisms. It is full of contradictions, this whole cycle of life.

2009 - what do you have in store?