Mumbai Monday, ONE WEEK ONE WEEK!

Don’t mock the tabs people, be JEALOUS of the tabs.

A week from today, at precisely 2:45 EST I will be boarding my plane to Newark, and then to Delhi.

ONE STINKING WEEK!

Do you know who isn’t prepared for this? Me, that’s who. I haven’t even unpacked my life from moving, I’m in no position to pack now! Not to mention that I don’t even know what to take. Never mind that I was given a packing list, and so many of you have made suggestion but I won’t be making decisions until I start putting stuff together, roughly 12…or more likely, 3 hours before my flight.

I just want to take this time today, and reflect on the fact that I have waited my entire life for this moment. Ever since I was 5 and I was given “Indian Barbie” because according to my grandmother “It looks like [me], dark thing that [I am]”.

Couple that with a heavy childhood infatuation (though I wouldn’t have admitted it, I loved his accent, plus his mom had a nose ring, that’s alarmingly cool to an impressionable child) to the little boy who sat next to me in grades 1 through 5 and looked like this:

But now, looks like this:

I’ve been informed that my mother stole this picture and made it her desktop background.
Creep.

The unfairness of my not jumping that gun is astounding. Why did no one show me K3G when I was 10? I would have known!

I’ve been chatting to the other intern, and we’re both a little mystified. I know for me it won’t hit me until I’m shoved up against some Uncle for 18.5 hours on a plane watching Bollywood movies and trying, TRYING not to get  my standard “trans-continental flying ulcer”. (Can you will that stuff away?)

Or, it will hit me when I actually walk out of the airport and have to get to my hotel and suddenly everyone is, well, Indian.

Goodness, I hope I don’t get overly excited and try to touch the taxi-wallah’s feet or something equally as awkward, because knowing me, I’d manage it.