I felt smug about my airfare, until I realised it was the wrong airline
Why on Earth am I flying home via Delhi?
Duffer that I am, I've accidentally clicked on the wrong flight on Trip.com. The time is almost identical, the price likewise, the flying time ditto. The only major difference is the route, and the airline. I am flying with an Indian carrier. Oh well, at least the food should be good.
I don't really think about it again until the morning of my flight home. I arrive at Heathrow just after 7am, to find my 9.45am flight delayed by four hours. They send an email while I am in the cab, which of course I don't see until I arrive.
As excuses go, they have a pretty good one: the airspace over the subcontinent is closed because India and Pakistan are firing missiles at each other.
I am about to wheel away to find a much-needed coffee when it dawns on me: assuming this plane really does take off in four hours (which, given the conflict, feels like a stretch), I will miss my connecting flight.
'Right,' says the check-in fellow. 'You'd better follow this man to the service desk.'
Sleep- and coffee-deprived, my neurons are firing about as well as a clapped-out Morris Minor, but out the corner of my eye I spy some bloke sprinting through the terminal. He is five metres, 10 metres, 20 metres ahead of me, doesn't once make eye contact, and says not a word.
I have no idea if he is the person I am meant to be following, but in the absence of a better option, that's what I do. And then he stops, and lo and behold it is the Air India service desk.

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles

Sydney Morning Herald
2 days ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
I felt smug about my airfare, until I realised it was the wrong airline
I'm feeling pretty smug about the flight I've booked on Singapore Airlines that takes me from Melbourne to Madrid, and then from London back to Melbourne. Until, that is, I read the email confirmation after paying for it. Why on Earth am I flying home via Delhi? Duffer that I am, I've accidentally clicked on the wrong flight on The time is almost identical, the price likewise, the flying time ditto. The only major difference is the route, and the airline. I am flying with an Indian carrier. Oh well, at least the food should be good. I don't really think about it again until the morning of my flight home. I arrive at Heathrow just after 7am, to find my 9.45am flight delayed by four hours. They send an email while I am in the cab, which of course I don't see until I arrive. As excuses go, they have a pretty good one: the airspace over the subcontinent is closed because India and Pakistan are firing missiles at each other. I am about to wheel away to find a much-needed coffee when it dawns on me: assuming this plane really does take off in four hours (which, given the conflict, feels like a stretch), I will miss my connecting flight. 'Right,' says the check-in fellow. 'You'd better follow this man to the service desk.' Sleep- and coffee-deprived, my neurons are firing about as well as a clapped-out Morris Minor, but out the corner of my eye I spy some bloke sprinting through the terminal. He is five metres, 10 metres, 20 metres ahead of me, doesn't once make eye contact, and says not a word. I have no idea if he is the person I am meant to be following, but in the absence of a better option, that's what I do. And then he stops, and lo and behold it is the Air India service desk.

The Age
2 days ago
- The Age
I felt smug about my airfare, until I realised it was the wrong airline
I'm feeling pretty smug about the flight I've booked on Singapore Airlines that takes me from Melbourne to Madrid, and then from London back to Melbourne. Until, that is, I read the email confirmation after paying for it. Why on Earth am I flying home via Delhi? Duffer that I am, I've accidentally clicked on the wrong flight on The time is almost identical, the price likewise, the flying time ditto. The only major difference is the route, and the airline. I am flying with an Indian carrier. Oh well, at least the food should be good. I don't really think about it again until the morning of my flight home. I arrive at Heathrow just after 7am, to find my 9.45am flight delayed by four hours. They send an email while I am in the cab, which of course I don't see until I arrive. As excuses go, they have a pretty good one: the airspace over the subcontinent is closed because India and Pakistan are firing missiles at each other. I am about to wheel away to find a much-needed coffee when it dawns on me: assuming this plane really does take off in four hours (which, given the conflict, feels like a stretch), I will miss my connecting flight. 'Right,' says the check-in fellow. 'You'd better follow this man to the service desk.' Sleep- and coffee-deprived, my neurons are firing about as well as a clapped-out Morris Minor, but out the corner of my eye I spy some bloke sprinting through the terminal. He is five metres, 10 metres, 20 metres ahead of me, doesn't once make eye contact, and says not a word. I have no idea if he is the person I am meant to be following, but in the absence of a better option, that's what I do. And then he stops, and lo and behold it is the Air India service desk.


The Advertiser
7 days ago
- The Advertiser
Asia's best cheap hotels? Two surprising cities go head-to-head
Street-side eateries in Jakarta. Picture by Shutterstock By Mal Chenu and Mark Dapin Jakarta and Kuala Lumpur both promise buzzing street food, wild shopping and serious culture. But only one of these under-the-radar cities can come out on top. Subscribe now for unlimited access. or signup to continue reading All articles from our website The digital version of Today's Paper All other in your area Jakarta: The real old soul of Southeast Asia The "Old Town" areas of cities are the best bits, and not just because the designation resonates with travellers of a certain age. (I'm looking at you, mirror.) Kota Tua Jakarta (Jakarta's Old Town) is centred around Fatahillah Square, a lively cobblestoned plaza surrounded by buildings from the Dutch colonial era. Many of these now house bars, restaurants, cafes and museums, including the Wayang Museum, which showcases the famous flat, wooden Javanese puppets that have been performing for longer than the Rolling Stones. Nearby Glodok has been Jakarta's Chinatown for centuries. Here, you can wander the atmospheric jalans (streets), enjoy Sino-Indian tucker and browse the photogenic Petak Sembilan food market. Jakarta offers a richer experience than Kuala Lumpur. One Aussie dollar brings in about 10,000 Indonesian rupiah but only three Malaysian ringgits. A hundred bucks makes you an Indo-millionaire, and there are more than 150 shopping malls and markets to splash your millions in Jakarta, one of Asia's underrated shop-ortunities. In the Menteng district, you'll find the top-end Grand Indonesia Mall and Plaza Senayan, as well as Jalan Surabaya Flea Market, where you can buy antiques, wood carvings and batik, along with remarkably inexpensive Rolex watches. Haggling is de rigueur, and a phrase I remember from my high school Bahasa Indonesia - terlalu mahal (too expensive) - will come in handy, and earn you a bit of jalan cred. For fun, ask for a written guarantee for the "Rolex" and watch the shopkeeper duck like a CEO at a Coldplay concert. Indonesia is rightly proud of its independence. If you thought getting Western Australians on board with Federation was tough, try throwing off the yoke of colonial European and Japanese wartime occupation, and uniting 300 million people spread across 17,000 islands. This incredible story is told at a museum at the base of Monas (the National Monument of Indonesia). The most iconic landmark in Jakarta, Monas is topped with a sculpture of a golden flame, and the 130-metre-high observation deck offers the best views in town. The Selamat Datang Monument is another much-loved sculpture, erected in 1962 to symbolise the nation's sense of identity and opening up following independence. "Selamat datang" means "welcome" and provides a useful segue to greet today's guest co-columnist, Mark Dapin. Mark is filling in for Amy Cooper, who is taking a week off to throw a haggis or some such bollocks with her family in the northern UK. This is a tough first gig for Mark. Kuala Lumpur, which means "muddy river confluence", is steamier than a noodle stall and in desperate need of navigable footpaths. Still, at least he wasn't tasked with defending Kabul, Ryanair or Mark Latham. Kuala Lumpur: The delicious, dazzling, dirt-cheap dream city Props to Mal for defending the indefensible - but that's only ever going to end one way, isn't it? I've always had a soft spot for Kuala Lumpur, and it's somewhere near my wallet. The city boasts some of the cheapest decent hotels in the world: on a good night, you can pick up a queen room at a Hilton Garden Inn for an amazing $44. Good pubs in Jakarta are generally pricier and more business-oriented, because nobody ever goes there on holiday. Malaysian Indian cuisine is the best food on the planet, and ideally eaten from a banana-leaf "plate" at a banana leaf rice restaurant in KL's (very) little India, Brickfields. Petronas Twin Towers in Kuala Lumpur. Pictures by Shutterstock Cluey diners will mix and mash a meat curry, a scoop of dahl and a palette of vegetable side dishes into one single glorious affirmation of the supremacy of South Asian spices, and wash it all down with a glass of lime juice. And local Malaysian street food specialties may well be the second biggest collection of edible treats on Earth. Roti canai and murtabak are peerless in the panoply of bread, and you can eat like a sultan of the streets for less than $5. Like Jakarta, KL has a large number of shopping malls. These are not so good for the wallet but great for public toilets, although Nike running shoes are sometimes significantly cheaper than in Australia. Yes, Jakarta has the Monas, an unimaginative and unlovely cloud spike that could only be less attractive if it were topped by a revolving restaurant and a Westfield logo. But KL luxuriates in the Petronas Twin Towers, once the tallest buildings in the world, and still as fine an elongated representation of two duelling daleks as the human mind can conceive. As Malaysia was once a British colony, KL has grand colonial buildings, which often borrow elegantly from "Moorish" traditions. Check out the Sultan Abdul Samad Building, the former seat of government, which sits opposite the mock-Tudor Royal Selangor Club. Kuala Lumpur Railway Station is another striking piece of architecture in which, rather fittingly, east meets west. And yes, Jakarta does have a smattering of remnant Dutch colonial architecture, but let's say the silent part out loud, shall we? As everybody knows but nobody has the guts to point out, Dutch colonial architecture is boring. The entire population of metropolitan KL speaks some sort of English, and the city is incredibly safe - unlike Jakarta where a becak driver once chased me into a guesthouse, demanding a higher fare. So I'm sorry, Mal, but like poor Tim Tszyu, you picked the wrong opponent: not in me but in Kuala Lumpur, the city that makes Jakarta look worse than a confluence of muddy rivers.