inside of the toilet cubicle thinking there is not a cat in hells chance I am going to manage this situation . Sardines in a TIN came to mind . I managed to get my braces off , undo my trousers clasps and zip , then shoved said trousers down with my underpants , turned around and sat on the ‘ pan ’, time for a breather and to mop the sweat from my brow . Now , I thought , how in gods ’ creation of mankind am I going to get my ‘ poo ’ bag opening inside the pan . I forced my arse so far back I am surprised the aerodynamics of the plane ’ s side was not affected and only being able to really move my right hand I carefully shoved my hand into the pan , grabbed the Velcro fastening and ‘ opened ’ the flaps . I was hoping the ‘ poo ’ was not going to explode out like a shotgun and land in the gusset of my trousers like a direct hit on a baked bean factory .
Then , the blasted plane started to experience turbulence .
So , here I was bouncing around as if I was on a space hopper , with the opening of my ‘ poo ’ bag just into the pan whilst I pushed down from the top of the bag to empty and then - having to wipe the edge of the opening and close the ‘ flaps ’ with the Velcro - with one hand . Why the hell had I worn my motorbike trousers , eh , WHY ?!
Then it was wee time by which stage my willy had chosen to retract into my throat from fear of being smothered in spicy Indian poo . It is hard enough to wee when you are standing still , with nobody watching , never mind playing trampolines in the sky . This was whilst half standing because I ’ d just saved myself from being sucked inside out after pushing the flush , by mistake , to flush because I ’ d forced my arse as far back as possible and then tried to push back even more , so I could get my willy ‘ out ’ of its hiding hole to wee .
Bloody ding dong , I thought , I am not doing that again .
“ Would you like more food sir ?”, I was asked , and I shall let your imagination come up with what I said in reply . There was no way on earth I was eating anymore to start the process of that ‘ poo ’ ing ’ adventure again that ’ s for sure .
Just short of 9 hours after take-off from London , the bump of the plane as it touched down in New Delhi was so soft it was as if it had landed on cotton wool .
I found myself thinking , what a wonderful flight , is without question the longest flight I had ever done , and the cabin crew of Air India were beyond any doubt simply superb as they couldn ’ t have made me feel more at home if they had tried . Plus , what a bonus , the plane had not been shot down as we flew over Afghanistan , and Pakistan . What a result . Although , during my toilet experience I wouldn ’ t have cared at that moment if it had been .
The plane came to a halt and standing up to put my boots back on , retrieving my jacket and lid from the overhead locker off everyone walked towards arrivals … it is at this point I would like to mention the calm way this happened , with no pushing , shoving , or battles to get off the plane , it was all very calm , as if there was not a care in the world .
After walking , what felt like the full length of India , the passport and visa control section appeared and started to queue , oh and did I say queue .
Each desk was manned by one person but there were 6 people manning the individual stations so all in all , it wasn ’ t that long until I was at the passport control desk .
“ What are you here for sir ?”, I was asked .
“ I am on a motorbike adventure around somewhere called Rajasthan ,” I replied , smiling , and looking smug . “ Where will you be staying ?”. “ I have absolutely no idea ,” was my reply , the look said it all , ‘ a bloody stupid white man coming to my country with no idea where he is going ’.
Eventually , after taking my fingerprints and mug shot picture , I was allowed through to retrieve my rucksack from the conveyor belt , and I headed towards the exit .
I ’ d never experienced anything like this as it was a pure joy to behold , everything was being done without any panic of “ the world is coming to an end I must be first … get out of my way !!”.
I exited the airport and OH MY GOD !
On exiting the airport , the noise was unbelievable with the beeping of car horns and people shouting offering ‘ taxi sir , taxi sir ”.
I hit the Delhi air quality at midnight and instantly couldn ’ t breathe . The air quality was so bad it was like trying to breathe through a mattress with the air being forced from a million hairdryers all on full blast . I found myself having to think about breathing along with finding the chap who was going to take me to my hotel .
BREATHE man BLOODY BREATHE … gasp , gasp , gasp ... ” MEDIC ” oh ok not quite “ MEDIC ” but here I was wearing a ‘ British ’ motorbike suit carrying a 50kg rucksack over 1 shoulder and a crash helmet in another hand , whilst trying to find my driver who I was told would be waiting , in amongst what seemed like a gazillion other smiling drivers shouting “ Taxi sir . Taxi sir : “ SOD OFF ” I walked up and down this line of cards with names looking for mine , for what felt like 3 days . I eventually found it , nodded at the chap and off we went … who said it was a race ?
The chap , who wasn ’ t any larger than 150 centimetres and around 40 kilograms soaking wet , took my lid , the lightest item to carry thank you very much ! We then shot off towards his car like a scalded rat with me in
TRAVERSE 47