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It is 7 in the evening and my house is abuzz with activity. Partly because laddoo, my dog, has discovered a fly. This usually leads to quite a commotion. What was compounding the problem was that i have still not packed everything and there was still some gadgets left to be charged.
Only if they could invent something to charge products with excitement.
But alas they haven't yet agreed upon one charger to charge upon all products.
Anywho, a wise man once said "whatever could be charged should be charged." and so it is.
After 3-4 checks of making sure everything is packed i hear a doorbell, my friends are over. 3-4 checks later we are off.
What seemed like a car ride till T3 later we are inside T3.
We quickly find emirates counter, put our luggage, get our boarding pass and quickly start looking for one thing that every young guy fancies these days - free wi-fi. Some bakwas on fb later we are hounded by phone calls. And messages. The messages are mostly by companies who are hell bent on pissing rahul gandhi by selling me some land in greater noida.
Good byes later we are off.
Little kids are just some hours away from landing at the base camp of their teerth yaatra.
So as the plane soars we snore.
Only to be woken up by glowing faces and red lipstick of the emirates air hostess.
Only some refreshment and dinner keep us away from snoring again.
But not for long.
We are in Dubai now. The next flight to amsterdam is 2 hrs away.
While being transported from the plane to the terminal building we marvel at what money can buy and build, then truly bewitched we look for a free toilet.
With great pressure comes, err, no pressure. I hate these common toilets. With a irritated face and even more irritated bowel i grumble back to my seat to wait for the flight.
The announcement comes. The passports are checked again. The faces glanced like we are at the wrong party.
But they let us through and here we are snoring again.
But then cramps in the leg and food keep the sleep away.
Finally the captain announces we are ready to land in schipol airport.
And just like that we are out.
It is a small airport. Or so it seems.
Following the signs we end up at the back of immigration line.
Finally it is our turn. The guy asks my friend sternly "what are you here for?"
" For the race."
"oh the assen TEE TEE?"
"Yeah we watch that and then we go to mugello."
"Oh i will be at assen tee tee too. see you there. I have a KTM. Costed me all my savings. How costly are the bikes there?"
"The small ones are not very expensive."
"Cool. Have a good time then."
Thak. Thak. Thak.
And all three of us are through.
The airport there is connected to the train station there.
So we catch a train to amsterdam central.
And as the train checks out we realize see how europe looks like from the ground.
It is green. And it is clean.
There is no dust.
And then we spot a highway and bikes and cars of all make are running about. We spot our first Alfa Romeo.
We grin. We beer too, but a bit later.
We check in to our hotel, which is a boat converted into a hotel.
And a couple of hours later we check out.
A short ferry ride later we are in the centre of the town.
Amsterdam feels like a small hill station. It is not but it feels like.
We hear akrapovics and termignonis for the first time.
This is exactly the dream.
So tonight we dine in burger king. Only it is 8 in the night and still the sun is shining.
Ok then. We return by 11 to the hotel.
It is a glorious day the next day. We have the whole day to roam about. But we just can't wait for it to be tomorrow.
And you know how it is when you wait for it to be tomorrow.
So the day passers rather slowly. But we roam about the central amsterdam. Then we go to meet a friend who also has tickets for the race for us.
All this makes Einstein't realtive Mr. Time fly. So as we lie in our beds we think about the day taht will be tomorrow.
Soon we are not thinking we are in a train going superfast towards assen.
The weather is not pretty good today. It is raining. There is no sun. The weather is like the stare of an aunty who you have beaten in the race for the seat in the metro.
But we are here. In assen. The stadium is a few turn away but there are people and more people around. And there are bikes. All you can hear is the sweet love of god that is an internal combustion engine.
As we get closer the sound, the sound of a motogp bike makes us jump up and down. And then when we are just doing foreplay with gravity we see stalls for various merchandise.
We go berserk. There is Rossi. There is Lorenzo. Simoncelli. Pedrosa. Stoner. Ducati. Yamaha. Assen TT.
There is poverty. Still we buy a few things and march on braving the onslaught of the rain that has turned from drizzle to a shower at medium.
Not the best way to see your first race but what the heck. We are surrounded by various fans who are wrapped in plastic sheets, raincoats and jackets. Are we cheering with them or are they cheering with us, it is a bit difficult to tell. But one thing is for sure. Rossi is huge here.
He is Sachin Tendulkar of motorcycle racing.
Everytime he passes us the crowd cheers. Everytime he overtakes someone there is a roar.
He acknowledges all of this after the race. He stops close to our stand and waves and thanks.
We are ecstatic. He has finished fourth.
He could have not finished it didn't matter. We were there. We were there hearing the sound of a bike watching our heroes in action. We were living the dream.
We were like the stories they don't write anymore.
We were the good news you don't get to hear these days anymore.
We were the hope nobody gives anyone anymore.
We were watching ourselves in our own dream.
We were there.
...to be contd.
Only if they could invent something to charge products with excitement.
But alas they haven't yet agreed upon one charger to charge upon all products.
Anywho, a wise man once said "whatever could be charged should be charged." and so it is.
After 3-4 checks of making sure everything is packed i hear a doorbell, my friends are over. 3-4 checks later we are off.
What seemed like a car ride till T3 later we are inside T3.
We quickly find emirates counter, put our luggage, get our boarding pass and quickly start looking for one thing that every young guy fancies these days - free wi-fi. Some bakwas on fb later we are hounded by phone calls. And messages. The messages are mostly by companies who are hell bent on pissing rahul gandhi by selling me some land in greater noida.
Good byes later we are off.
Little kids are just some hours away from landing at the base camp of their teerth yaatra.
So as the plane soars we snore.
Only to be woken up by glowing faces and red lipstick of the emirates air hostess.
Only some refreshment and dinner keep us away from snoring again.
But not for long.
We are in Dubai now. The next flight to amsterdam is 2 hrs away.
While being transported from the plane to the terminal building we marvel at what money can buy and build, then truly bewitched we look for a free toilet.
With great pressure comes, err, no pressure. I hate these common toilets. With a irritated face and even more irritated bowel i grumble back to my seat to wait for the flight.
The announcement comes. The passports are checked again. The faces glanced like we are at the wrong party.
But they let us through and here we are snoring again.
But then cramps in the leg and food keep the sleep away.
Finally the captain announces we are ready to land in schipol airport.
And just like that we are out.
It is a small airport. Or so it seems.
Following the signs we end up at the back of immigration line.
Finally it is our turn. The guy asks my friend sternly "what are you here for?"
" For the race."
"oh the assen TEE TEE?"
"Yeah we watch that and then we go to mugello."
"Oh i will be at assen tee tee too. see you there. I have a KTM. Costed me all my savings. How costly are the bikes there?"
"The small ones are not very expensive."
"Cool. Have a good time then."
Thak. Thak. Thak.
And all three of us are through.
The airport there is connected to the train station there.
So we catch a train to amsterdam central.
And as the train checks out we realize see how europe looks like from the ground.
It is green. And it is clean.
There is no dust.
And then we spot a highway and bikes and cars of all make are running about. We spot our first Alfa Romeo.
We grin. We beer too, but a bit later.
We check in to our hotel, which is a boat converted into a hotel.
And a couple of hours later we check out.
A short ferry ride later we are in the centre of the town.
Amsterdam feels like a small hill station. It is not but it feels like.
We hear akrapovics and termignonis for the first time.
This is exactly the dream.
So tonight we dine in burger king. Only it is 8 in the night and still the sun is shining.
Ok then. We return by 11 to the hotel.
It is a glorious day the next day. We have the whole day to roam about. But we just can't wait for it to be tomorrow.
And you know how it is when you wait for it to be tomorrow.
So the day passers rather slowly. But we roam about the central amsterdam. Then we go to meet a friend who also has tickets for the race for us.
All this makes Einstein't realtive Mr. Time fly. So as we lie in our beds we think about the day taht will be tomorrow.
Soon we are not thinking we are in a train going superfast towards assen.
The weather is not pretty good today. It is raining. There is no sun. The weather is like the stare of an aunty who you have beaten in the race for the seat in the metro.
But we are here. In assen. The stadium is a few turn away but there are people and more people around. And there are bikes. All you can hear is the sweet love of god that is an internal combustion engine.
As we get closer the sound, the sound of a motogp bike makes us jump up and down. And then when we are just doing foreplay with gravity we see stalls for various merchandise.
We go berserk. There is Rossi. There is Lorenzo. Simoncelli. Pedrosa. Stoner. Ducati. Yamaha. Assen TT.
There is poverty. Still we buy a few things and march on braving the onslaught of the rain that has turned from drizzle to a shower at medium.
Not the best way to see your first race but what the heck. We are surrounded by various fans who are wrapped in plastic sheets, raincoats and jackets. Are we cheering with them or are they cheering with us, it is a bit difficult to tell. But one thing is for sure. Rossi is huge here.
He is Sachin Tendulkar of motorcycle racing.
Everytime he passes us the crowd cheers. Everytime he overtakes someone there is a roar.
He acknowledges all of this after the race. He stops close to our stand and waves and thanks.
We are ecstatic. He has finished fourth.
He could have not finished it didn't matter. We were there. We were there hearing the sound of a bike watching our heroes in action. We were living the dream.
We were like the stories they don't write anymore.
We were the good news you don't get to hear these days anymore.
We were the hope nobody gives anyone anymore.
We were watching ourselves in our own dream.
We were there.
...to be contd.
Usually, the first thing I check in a thread are the pictures, no doubt.. but your writing is more than enough to grab some attention to this thread, it seems.
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