Sunday, October 31, 2010

Bangalore – 7 – The End

There's a big delay at the airport, flights are late. The reason, I find later, is that two aircrafts graze each other at the congested Bombay airport. This has never happened before. Guess air traffic has also become like road traffic in Bombay. So I walk around Bangalore airport, watching the scene, taking in the expensive shops, the lookable women, few of whom strut about (like that looker-in-red who get the Kingfisher's red blanket, red all over). Ahem! There's a crowd of Dutch tourists (I guess they are Dutch because they don't talk English) who are talking and laughing loudly. I like their laughter. Earlier, when I checked in, the Kingfisher (yes, the tycoon's airline) ground hostess tells me she will enrol me as a member of Kingclub. I say please do. Yes, I would like to be in the club of kings.

Kingfisher hostesses know how to treat passengers. No wonder they are called models in the air. They have an attitude of helping customers and not the blank look the hostesses in other airlines have. So much the better. This is my first time on Kingfisher and I guess service makes a great difference. They go around helping with luggage, fetching blankets, and see that everyone is well fed, which is not the case with Spicejet on which I travelled to Bangalore. Why don't the other airlines see it? Why don't we in the corporate world see it? I guess we are blind that it's service that keeps a customer coming back. The tycoon realises this. That's why he is a tycoon, really.

Though the flight was late, I feel fresh and cared for. I give a feedback form mentioning good things about the airlines and its staff. I ask the pretty hostess who attended me her name and give her a good recommendation. The looker-in-red is met by her equally good-looking boyfriend who hugs her for probably five minutes, as I watch. Some embrace this! Hm. I believe in the goodness of life, that good is good, and bad is bad, I think as I sit beside the phlegmatic driver who drives me home, his face like a mask of Kathakali. No, Kathakali dancers have better expressions. Sorry, wrong choice of words. He doesn't say a word during the entire trip to New Bombay, except grunt when I give him directions. That's bad service! Raj my driver in Bangalore was much better. I miss Raj.

End of the Bangalore series, covered in 7 posts. Hope you liked it. Do comment, puhhleeezeeee!

I will be on a much needed vacation at my ancestral home in Kerala. This blog may be erratic for a few days. But I will make a point to blog from wherever I am as I am lugging my laptop with me. Got to. Meanwhile my travelogue on Kerala, in a very rough form is here. It is undergoing a lot of nerve wracking editing. Do let me have your views if you read it, that is.

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