Dec. 5 2009 Meeting Mr. Tran

4AM Indira Gandhi International Airport Delhi India.

Got through check in,  immigration and security in less than an hour.  Waited and walked for 2 hours. Bought a book. Checked email on the airport wireless network. A hassle to getting signed in.  Needed my cell phone to get a text message with a password. Security issue. Need to know. Who’s sending what, when and where.

Plane takes off without incident.  No fog delays tonight which is a relief as I can’t stay awake any longer. Just spent 10 hours on a road trip from the hill station down to the plains and into Delhi. Thick pollution haze as soon as we got below 2,000 feet altitude.  Sugar cane crop is ready so the mills both big and small have fired up the machines to squeeze and refine the sugar. The chaff that isn’t going to be fed to cattle is burning in all the fields for hundreds of miles.

Lulled by the engine’s noise, for I am sitting over the wing, the unconsciousness of sleep takes over.  I don’t even notice the landing, passengers disembarking and reembarking in Bangkok. A meal is presented.  5 hours into the flight and dawn is faintly glowing on the edge of the big ball of the horizon. An arc of dusty orange.

The movie between Bangkok and Hong Kong is forgettable or maybe I slept some more.

Hong Kong airport and looking for the transfer point for my onward flight. Caught in a line up at the security check. Waiting but not too impatiently. Over 2 hours to walk and stretch.

Next flight will be 12 hours in length.

Boarding is slow. I flash my frequent flyer club card to jump into the Business Class lineup even though I fly economy.  Membership has it’s privileges.  Or I’m getting cranky.

Adjusting seat belt. Getting settled. No one beside me so far. Wanting it to stay that way.

A family moves towards the 2 empty seats behind me. Parents and a young boy. They stow their luggage and the parents take the seats behind. The boy is beside me. He looks rather daunted. Or perhaps tired.

He’s a husky boy with a round face. He’s wearing Nikes or some similar brand, long board shorts in a camo pattern and a yellow t-shirt with a cartoon character I don’t recognize.

The shade over the window is closed.

The boy says, “Can you open that? I want to see the ocean.”

I oblige. He leans over me to look for a moment then settles back into his seat.

He pulls the controller for the entertainment system out from the seat in front. Pushing buttons. Puts the controller back. Puts the tray down. Takes the controller out again. Pushing buttons. Puts the tray up. Pulls the drink holder down. Pushing buttons. Plays a game. Checks what his parents are doing by peering between the seats. Takes a glass of Sprite from the server. Places the glass in the drink holder after a few sips.

I take a glass of Coke. I push the button on the controller to check the flight map. 10 hours and a bit left.

He says, “You can take that out you know.” Proceeds to disengage it for me.

“It’s OK there.” I respond and put it back.

“There’s games.”

“I know.”

A brief pause.

“Do you like peanuts?” he says.

“Yes.”

I turn my head towards the window and feign sleep.  The boy starts a game and I do sleep for an hour or so.

When I stir to adjust the blanket the boy asks, “Are you going to have chicken?”

I am a little groggy and don’t quite know what he is referring to.

The meal cart is on it’s way down the aisle.

“Yes chicken would be OK.”

“I’m going to have fish.”

The server questions the boy first and sets up his tray with the fish entree. She informs me that there is no chicken left so I have the vegetarian pasta.

The boy lifts his entree in it’s aluminum dish and shows it to his mother in the seat behind. He says something else to her which I cannot hear and she leans over and takes a look at my pasta.  I don’t know what she or her husband chose.

The boy eats the entree quickly. He passes the unwanted salad and appetizer back to his parents. He pokes at the gelled custard desert with his finger then takes a tentative spoonful. He passes the rest back to his parents as well.  He keeps the chocolate biscuit.

I finish my meal a little surprised at my hunger.

Others settle in to sleep. I feel restless. I take the controller out of it’s niche in the seat and select a game to play.

“My mom likes Bejeweled too.”

“It’s fun.”

“I like this one.”  He is referring to some kind of safari scenario that is on his screen.

“It looks good too.”

I switch from games to the pre-recorded television episodes available. CSI has 3 episodes so I choose one and settle the earphones comfortably. The program is short. No doubt trimmed for family viewing. I switch to news, flip through movies, comedy programs, other dramas. Nothing piques the interest. Back to the flight channel.  Less than 8 hours.

I close my eyes again and try to sleep. I hear breathing close to my ear. I open one eye just a little and the boy smiles brilliantly.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping.” He laughs. He has little dimples in his cheeks.

“How did you know?”

“Because your mouth wasn’t open like before.”

“Oh.”

He leans over and looks between the seats back at his parents.

“They’re sleeping.”

A few minutes later I hear stirring behind. The boys mother gets up from the window seat, steps over the legs of the father and makes her way to the washroom. When she returns she unbuckles the boy’s seat belt and speaks quietly to him. He moves into her seat and she takes his.

She is a small woman and curls up into the seat like a seashell. I wonder how she can sleep with the pressure of the armrest on her back but she seems to be managing it. I check back between the seats. The boy and his father sprawl in a pose of deep sleep. I watch the last half of a movie.

I sleep for another hour.

When I wake up the mother wakes also.  She uncurls from the tight position, stands and exchanges seats again with the boy. He’s not quite awake. His blanket has fallen to the floor. I pick it up and put it over him. He smiles a little then leans his head onto my shoulder and goes back to sleep.  I don’t move for an hour.

The server brings a tray of noodle cups around in the semi-darkness.The boy has shifted as he slept and my arm is free so I take one and eat it with the chopsticks provided.

The boy is still asleep when they bring cups of water around. I take one for myself and one for the boy. I place his in the cup holder.

About 10 minutes later he wakes up and gulps down the water.

We both put our headphones on and start pushing buttons on the controllers.

He says, “Who are you?”

“I am Marnie” I reply.

“We are the Trans.” he says

“Nice to meet you Mr. Tran.”

He bursts out laughing.

“Mr. Tran is my faaather.” Had he not had his seatbelt on he might have rolled onto the floor he was laughing so hard.

Once he calms down a little he states, “I am 8.”

“That’s a good age.”

He continues the conversation, “Are you coming from Viet Nam?”

“No.”

“We were visiting my grand parents in Viet Nam.”

“Oh.”

“Are you coming from Tanzaneeeeeeah?” he said this excitedly and his eyes widen.  Tanzania seems to be a very important place at that moment. The safari game may have mentioned Tanzania.

“No I am coming from India.”

“Did you visit your grand parents there?”

“No I visited some friends.”

“I have friends.”

“It’s nice to have friends.”

We both sit looking at our screens.

Mr. Tran says “Do you live in a house or an apartment?”

“Apartment”

“So do we. We live in an apartment in Edmonton.”

He continues, “Do you have a son?”

“No.”

We both look back at our screens for a while longer.

He looks at me from time to time and smiles. I smile in return. He asks more questions. I answer.  I don’t ask questions. He tells me what he wants me to know.

The breakfast meal is being served. He eats the fruit and yogurt and hands the entree back to his parents.  His mother hands her fruit up to him.

“Are you going to Vancouver?” he asks

“Yes”

“So are we. My mother’s sister is there. She has a son. He is my cousin. He’s older. But we play sports together.”

“I have cousins too. But I haven’t seen any of them for a long time.”

“Do you play sports?”

“Sometimes.”

We watch our screens as the plane begins it’s descent.

“Can you open the window?”

“Yes.”

“People look like ants from a plane.”

“I know.”

“Those are islands. Islands in the ocean.”

“Yes.”

“There’s a red car.”

“And a black one.”

“I don’t see any ant people.”

“We are still too high. We’ll see them in a minute or two.”

We watch. And see them.

1:30 PM Vancouver International Airport Canada

I am in the 3rd line-up from the left at the Immigration counters. The Trans are at the 5th line-up.  They are ahead of me. They are going to the translation booth to answer questions and pass through quickly. I am in the line-up of the most thorough Immigration officer in Canada.  I wait.

After retrieving my luggage I see them at the exit. Mr. Tran turns around and smiles as they go out the door.