The Taj was beautiful from the moment I saw it, to when I set my hands on its cold majestic marble facade, to when I took my last glance at it over the ancient monkey covered stone buildings of Agra at sunset.
I have moments in my head I won’t ever forget, kind of like song lyrics from high school. But sugar, I’m not going down, down in an earlier round swingin’,
Because I am “not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who have faith and preserve their souls.”
Hebrews 10:39
Traveling across India in all it’s splendor and spectrums breathed extra life into my heart, while it was already learning new beats in a renewing revival that my Heavenly Father had tailor made just for me. That time will be stuck in my mind forever and absolutely for good.
We got out of our Tuk Tuk taxi caravan in front of the airport in Delhi after a day of monument hopping throughout the city.
I had my flight itinerary saved on my apple device, and as my friends and I were walking through the gate I was told, by a man with an incredible mustache, that I couldn’t come into the airport.
Indian security is the real deal. Seriously, they have metal detectors in front of grocery stores.
Through a computer error, even though all of our tickets had been booked at the same time, my ticket got bumped to the same flight for the same time the following day. That would be 26 hours from the moment I got out of the cab.
I actually immediately loved the idea of spending a day in the airport by myself. It genuinely sounded fun, even though I initially thought the ticket situation would get worked out, and I would be able to fly with everyone. It didn’t get worked out. After nearly 45 minutes of pointless hassling with the ticket lady, I said goodbye to my friends for the evening.
This was an unexpected interruption. To be honest, this was a moment that challenged my sense of entitlement and my expectation of having something my way. It was a moment of growing up quick and realizing that there’s a great big world out there and It doesn’t owe me anything. Like I said, I was actually pretty excited to spend a day in the airport by myself, because I knew it would be a cool story and something to laugh about later. My friends and I laugh about it a lot, and it is a great story. I also knew that awesome stories would find me. They certainly did.
I had a few conversations in the ticketing office with random travelers who were intensely curious about the lone American in the room. I ate some food, and watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, one of my favorite movies, on my iPad. Cute little kids peered over my shoulder as I was watching the movie, so we started playing Angry Birds together. They had never actually seen the game even though the tinier of the two mini men was wearing an Angry Birds shirt. They giggled so much.
After being there a few hours, and after saying goodbye to my tiny friends, I met a guy about my age named Riten, a DJ from Nepal, that kind of looked like a young jack sparrow.
He was on his way to Goa. We hung out all night, and made sick beats on my iPad in GarageBand. When i fell asleep, I leaned my head against my backpack that was closed inside of its neon green rainfly, with everything else, including the rest of me, tucked inside my sleeping bag. Riten set up beside me, and made sure I didn’t need anything to eat or drink before he got into his sleeping bag. It’s cool when you make a friend and they stick beside you and look out for you. He also nudged my shoulder to show me these two incredibly pretty girls from Spain that were smiling at us, I smiled at them and pulled my hood down over my eyes. (Ain’t nobody got time for that. I signed a contract.)
I was woken up by security who asked me to move because they were cleaning the seating area in the ticketing office. I can promise you this, my face was not expressing joy in any way, shape or form at being abruptly woken up. Riten was shaking his head in displeasure as well. Thankfully, it was after midnight so my stink face was dismantled by the thoughts that I could get into the airport now, have a sandwich, and fall asleep again.
I actually got a mini pizza. Riten and I shared Cokes. It was tight. We fell asleep again, only to be woken up a second time to be informed that the ticketing desk was now open. I got my ticket, because i could finally use my itinerary, and made an attempt to go back to sleep while this middle aged man insisted that I come to Goa. I told him there was no way because I was going to Hyderabad. After being awake for as long as I had been awake, my pleasantries were gone. He kept talking, and I politely closed my eyes multiple times and rolled over until he finally stopped talking to me and walked away.
The next morning, I shook hands with Riten and said goodbye as he made his way to his gate. While he was walking away, I met a man named Sharad at a cellphone charging station. He and I had a great breakfast and talked about life and kindness and grace. He was incredibly generous to buy my coffee, and I feel blessed by knowing him. We laughed and enjoyed our time together and he headed for his flight not long after.
I made friends with this guy who ended up being a security guard about to go on duty. He had a Segway, and he had a pretty rad mustache like the “you cannot come in” guy from the night before at the front of the airport. His coworker also had a Segway, so we went into an empty part of the airport, this huge room, and we raced around on the Segways. I didn’t crash into trash cans, no matter what Haj says. These guys were my key into different parts of the airport. They were honestly terrible security guards, great dudes though. Ravi with the rad mustache knew Jesus.
I had a lot of fun taking pictures and videos, chatting it up with people, dancing like an idiot when Michael Jackson came on my iPod( when I say dancing like an idiot, I mean I kind of flail around like the whomping willow from Harry potter), making babies laugh, and making babies cry(not intentionally). I’ve learned that the same silly face can make one kid laugh hysterically, and make another kid cry.
I spent the rest of the day having conversations, reading, talking to my teammates when they checked up on me, and drinking coffee at Starbucks. I met an American family that was doing missions in India, and two of the three daughters had been on trips with Adventures In Missions. We had dinner together. I talked a bit about my experience on The World Race, and they talked about their ministry in India. They prayed for me right in the middle of the airport and we said goodbye.
I went to Starbucks one last time before I got on the plane, and the guy who made my caramel frappacino was in training, and he messed up making my drink and got upset with himself and was incredibly surprised when I didn’t get mad at him. I told him that I was a barista back in America, that I understood, and it was totally fine. He actually laughed with relief and started to remake my drink. Then as he was remaking my drink, the power to the Starbucks went out. He turned around and saw that I was laughing and he started laughing with me and other people who saw the initial exchange of grace and patience started laughing. It all worked out, the power came back on, I got my drink, and a muffin for free, and hopped on my plane. The loss of power actually brought more power to the moment. I also really love free muffins.
We took off and pierced the vale of clouds and haze that layered Delhi, I realized that I couldn’t see the end of the city in any direction I looked.
I landed in Hyderabad, and got into a cab, and had an awesome conversation about Jesus with my Muslim cab driver. It was broken English, but God was doing work in this mans heart. I wish he knew a bit more English, and I wish I knew a little more telegu. Even with limited words it was a good conversation. I’ll say that broken English on the race is a real thing. We have to speak simply to speak to the locals most of the time, so that means leaving words out of sentences. Most of my squad very lovingly and jokingly says that words are hard. It’s actually weird thinking that I’ll be around Americans again, who are perfectly capable of having conversations. I might be bad at talking when I get home. I pray I can speak word good by July.
I was thankful for the entire experience of the past few days as I was dropped off in front of Rescue Home in Jubilee Hills.
All in all, Being delayed in Delhi was a welcome interruption that I’ll never forget.
