8 Simple Rules for Driving in Karachi
1. Always assume you have right of way. If you don't, someone else will. And you won't be home in time for your infant's 18th birthday.
2. Honk (toot your horn) whenever you feel like it, but ESPECIALLY when it serves no purpose. Like in hospital zones. Or in your driveway.
3. Do not use your turn signals (indicators). If you use your turn signals (indicators), you're a pretentious jerk who thinks he or she is better than everyone else.
(For the record, I do use my turn signals. But then we all know I am a pretentious jerk, so it's alright.)
4. Do not stop at red lights. Stopping at red lights unnecessarily compromises the safety of those behind you trying to run the light.
5. Ignore all speed limits. The traffic policemen have no radar guns. And if they do, their 70 cc motorcycles aren't going to get them very far anyway. They aren't going to chase you. And if they do, they'll give up soon enough. Besides, it's fun.
6. Stop for crossing pedestrians. Unless you don't feel like it. In which case either
a) Run them over (Half the time the morons deserve it.)
b) Honk loudly and glare as you fly past them (They should be grateful you didn't run them over.)
7. Prepare to be blamed for everything, especially accidents. If you get hit, even while stationary in a designated parking spot, you obviously weren't paying attention.
8. Yelling and cursing is expected and appreciated.
Mercy is for the weak.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Cockroaches & Power Failures
Cockroaches and power failures are two things symptomatic of summers in Karachi... I think it's the heat and humidity that attract both of them. The power failure is by far more destructive, causing daily losses to businesses, industries, body fluids and tempers. The cockroach, however, is not to be taken lightly. Sudden appearances when least expected cause moments of concern, frustration and, in my case, mind numbing fear.
The other evening (10 pm or so) I was lying in bed sweating away (my air conditioner wouldn't work because the supply voltage was too low at the time), rereading the riveting last few pages of Angels & Demons by Dan Brown. By the way, Deception Point and Digital Fortress are a complete waste of your money, time and plasma. They are as bad as The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons are good. Anyway, heat, sweat, low voltage, suspense in the Vatican. I just had to take my t-shirt off (calm down ladies). So I'm lying there in my shorts when out of the corner of my eye I see something on the wall to my right. Shadow? Satanic symbol? Cockroach?
Cockroach!
I kid you not. This thing was at least 2 inches long, brown as a brown Crayola crayon and must have had a span of an inch and a half. *shudder* Its 64 legs... alright, there were only 8, stretched lazily and its antennae waved gently with such arrogance that I was immediately cowed. Three options:
1. Ignore it. Yes, like you ignore a Cat 5 hurricane.
2. Kill it. But that would mean getting close to it.
3. Leave the room. But what if it's there when I come back?? *sob*
Anyway, lying there wasn't helping matters. I needed to be on my feet, senses alert, reaction time minimal. Gingerly, I slid my feet off the side of the bed. No sudden moves. Slippers on. Eyes on the enemy. Up. Slide around to the side of the bed away from the intruder. Take stock of situation. Analyze strengths and weaknesses. Cockroach near door. Open door so cockroach can flee? Only person with room on second floor of house is me. Feasible. Crawl to door. Door open. Cockroach observes silently. Clearly a tough customer. Been here before. Re-establish safe distance. Commence stare down. The cockroach moved. But it didn't use its legs. Or its antennae. It used its WINGS.
Flying cockroach!
Why me? Oh, give me a wingless cockroach over this beast any day! *sigh* Suddenly, with no shirt on, I felt exposed. The cockroach had respositioned itself on the same wall. What if the thing flew at me?? 10 seconds later, t-shirt back on. I felt braver. But not by much. No long poles or brooms nearby. No insecticde either. What to do? Shoes? Shoe?
Shoe!
I picked up one of my running shoes and weighed in my mind the best way to go about this. Long distance throw of deadly accuracy? Cavalry charge of inconceivable horror?
Quick math: Cavalry Charge = Getting close to cockroach = Long distance throw.
I pulled my arm behind my head, my massive brain performing a million calculations of trajectory and velocity. An instant before I started my arm forward on its noble mission, I went blind. Blackness. Nothingness. Had I fainted? Was I dead? No.
Power failure!
So, here I am, in pitch darkness, running shoe in right hand still cocked behind my head and a vile, cunning enemy with powers of flight mere feet away from me.
If I stay still, it won't know where I am.
Thirty seconds later
Aaaaaa! I don't know where it is!
Make way to table. Feel around blindly for small emergency torch/flashlight. Torch/flashlight located. Move back to safe distance from last known location of the enemy. Suddenly switch on and beam light towards wall. No cockroach. Beam light frantically around room. There's the beast! In the tiny nook between the wall and my open door.
I'm fairly confident I could have held the light with one hand and thrown my shoe with the other, but the consequences of missing the target were now too great. The moster had too many conditions in his favor and too many places to hide. I needed reinforcements. I went downstairs and recruited my father. "There's a cockroach in my bedroom," I said nonchalantly, "can you hold the torch while I kill it?" My father, to his credit, did not tell me to grow up and kill my insects independently. He followed me upstairs.
Now armed with a spray pump of insecticide (procured from the ever-equipped mother), I stepped cautiously back into the room. My father followed, and shone the light where we thought the cockroach would be. Gone. It could be anywhere! I started spraying insecticide wildly, hoping to lure it out while I had support. We found it on my door, blending in perfectly with the varnished wood. Clever, but not clever enough. With my father, stage manager, providing the spotlight, I got as close as I dared and sprayed a mist of sweet sweet insecticide all over the creature.
The thing was on the run. It's flight capabilities were immediately impaired by the fast acting drug. It scampered across the floor sending shoes (mine, with me still in them) in all directions. More spray. AGH! STOMP STOMP STOMP.
Flying cockroach guts everywhere!
Relief. Invasion quashed. Invader squashed. Still working with the torch/flashlight, we fashioned a rough scoop from a couple of newspapers and deposited the body outside, to be taken later by our cleaner, or by beasts of the wild.
The power was still out, and would be for a while. But we had fought the good fight against at least one threat to civilization tonight. And we had won. We had won.
This war was over.
The other evening (10 pm or so) I was lying in bed sweating away (my air conditioner wouldn't work because the supply voltage was too low at the time), rereading the riveting last few pages of Angels & Demons by Dan Brown. By the way, Deception Point and Digital Fortress are a complete waste of your money, time and plasma. They are as bad as The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons are good. Anyway, heat, sweat, low voltage, suspense in the Vatican. I just had to take my t-shirt off (calm down ladies). So I'm lying there in my shorts when out of the corner of my eye I see something on the wall to my right. Shadow? Satanic symbol? Cockroach?
Cockroach!
I kid you not. This thing was at least 2 inches long, brown as a brown Crayola crayon and must have had a span of an inch and a half. *shudder* Its 64 legs... alright, there were only 8, stretched lazily and its antennae waved gently with such arrogance that I was immediately cowed. Three options:
1. Ignore it. Yes, like you ignore a Cat 5 hurricane.
2. Kill it. But that would mean getting close to it.
3. Leave the room. But what if it's there when I come back?? *sob*
Anyway, lying there wasn't helping matters. I needed to be on my feet, senses alert, reaction time minimal. Gingerly, I slid my feet off the side of the bed. No sudden moves. Slippers on. Eyes on the enemy. Up. Slide around to the side of the bed away from the intruder. Take stock of situation. Analyze strengths and weaknesses. Cockroach near door. Open door so cockroach can flee? Only person with room on second floor of house is me. Feasible. Crawl to door. Door open. Cockroach observes silently. Clearly a tough customer. Been here before. Re-establish safe distance. Commence stare down. The cockroach moved. But it didn't use its legs. Or its antennae. It used its WINGS.
Flying cockroach!
Why me? Oh, give me a wingless cockroach over this beast any day! *sigh* Suddenly, with no shirt on, I felt exposed. The cockroach had respositioned itself on the same wall. What if the thing flew at me?? 10 seconds later, t-shirt back on. I felt braver. But not by much. No long poles or brooms nearby. No insecticde either. What to do? Shoes? Shoe?
Shoe!
I picked up one of my running shoes and weighed in my mind the best way to go about this. Long distance throw of deadly accuracy? Cavalry charge of inconceivable horror?
Quick math: Cavalry Charge = Getting close to cockroach = Long distance throw.
I pulled my arm behind my head, my massive brain performing a million calculations of trajectory and velocity. An instant before I started my arm forward on its noble mission, I went blind. Blackness. Nothingness. Had I fainted? Was I dead? No.
Power failure!
So, here I am, in pitch darkness, running shoe in right hand still cocked behind my head and a vile, cunning enemy with powers of flight mere feet away from me.
If I stay still, it won't know where I am.
Thirty seconds later
Aaaaaa! I don't know where it is!
Make way to table. Feel around blindly for small emergency torch/flashlight. Torch/flashlight located. Move back to safe distance from last known location of the enemy. Suddenly switch on and beam light towards wall. No cockroach. Beam light frantically around room. There's the beast! In the tiny nook between the wall and my open door.
I'm fairly confident I could have held the light with one hand and thrown my shoe with the other, but the consequences of missing the target were now too great. The moster had too many conditions in his favor and too many places to hide. I needed reinforcements. I went downstairs and recruited my father. "There's a cockroach in my bedroom," I said nonchalantly, "can you hold the torch while I kill it?" My father, to his credit, did not tell me to grow up and kill my insects independently. He followed me upstairs.
Now armed with a spray pump of insecticide (procured from the ever-equipped mother), I stepped cautiously back into the room. My father followed, and shone the light where we thought the cockroach would be. Gone. It could be anywhere! I started spraying insecticide wildly, hoping to lure it out while I had support. We found it on my door, blending in perfectly with the varnished wood. Clever, but not clever enough. With my father, stage manager, providing the spotlight, I got as close as I dared and sprayed a mist of sweet sweet insecticide all over the creature.
The thing was on the run. It's flight capabilities were immediately impaired by the fast acting drug. It scampered across the floor sending shoes (mine, with me still in them) in all directions. More spray. AGH! STOMP STOMP STOMP.
Flying cockroach guts everywhere!
Relief. Invasion quashed. Invader squashed. Still working with the torch/flashlight, we fashioned a rough scoop from a couple of newspapers and deposited the body outside, to be taken later by our cleaner, or by beasts of the wild.
The power was still out, and would be for a while. But we had fought the good fight against at least one threat to civilization tonight. And we had won. We had won.
This war was over.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Emirates: Tribute To Entity
As promised, here is Emirates: Tribute to Entity, Part II. (Refer to first complete paragraph of previous post for more information.)
Before I deliver the equivalent of a eulogy, some context: I'm quite fond of the United States (despite what I think of its "people in power"), but its airlines could learn a thing or thirty four from Emirates.
Delta, Northwest, US Airways, Continental... I've flown them all, and on just about every flight (including the four hour hops halfway across the country) the only time I saw my scowling flight attendant was when he or she was shoving a packet containing assorted nuts (about 3) and a carbonated beverage in my face. Ugh. I've even used the call button when needing a blanket, or getting dehydrated, but they're either all color blind (and can't recognize WHITE) or they believe that passengers are a waste of their time. Hmmph. Hey STUPID! The only reason you have a JOB is the fact that I fly your SORRY airline and deal with your PATHETIC service in the first place.
*breathe in* *breathe out* *breathe in* *breathe out*
Now Emirates. Thirteen hours in the air never went by so fast. The personal entertainment systems in each seat are something I'd be happy to have installed in my house. Over a hundred movies (FYI, I watched Glory Road, Four Brothers and Big Momma's House 2), games and TV shows. Add to that pineapple juice, good FREQUENT food, lightning fast and friendly service, ample legroom, comfortable seats, footrests, and the flight's as good as a retreat.
Now I wasn't travelling with a baby (which is good, considering I don't have one), but, and I saw this with my own eyes, the attendants helped weary parents out by babysitting; whether it be bottle-feeding, or walking around with the infants to lull them to sleep. And this was all in Economy (or Coach, if you will). I wonder what happens in Business and First Class... do they prepare for your meetings so you can sleep? Give backrubs? Perform open heart surgery?
*open mouth, wide eyed wonder*
I guess only the second half of this posting was truly Emirates: Tribute to Entity. The first half was more of the U.S. Airlines: Unmitigated Frustration variety. Can frustration be unmitigated?
Before I deliver the equivalent of a eulogy, some context: I'm quite fond of the United States (despite what I think of its "people in power"), but its airlines could learn a thing or thirty four from Emirates.
Delta, Northwest, US Airways, Continental... I've flown them all, and on just about every flight (including the four hour hops halfway across the country) the only time I saw my scowling flight attendant was when he or she was shoving a packet containing assorted nuts (about 3) and a carbonated beverage in my face. Ugh. I've even used the call button when needing a blanket, or getting dehydrated, but they're either all color blind (and can't recognize WHITE) or they believe that passengers are a waste of their time. Hmmph. Hey STUPID! The only reason you have a JOB is the fact that I fly your SORRY airline and deal with your PATHETIC service in the first place.
*breathe in* *breathe out* *breathe in* *breathe out*
Now Emirates. Thirteen hours in the air never went by so fast. The personal entertainment systems in each seat are something I'd be happy to have installed in my house. Over a hundred movies (FYI, I watched Glory Road, Four Brothers and Big Momma's House 2), games and TV shows. Add to that pineapple juice, good FREQUENT food, lightning fast and friendly service, ample legroom, comfortable seats, footrests, and the flight's as good as a retreat.
Now I wasn't travelling with a baby (which is good, considering I don't have one), but, and I saw this with my own eyes, the attendants helped weary parents out by babysitting; whether it be bottle-feeding, or walking around with the infants to lull them to sleep. And this was all in Economy (or Coach, if you will). I wonder what happens in Business and First Class... do they prepare for your meetings so you can sleep? Give backrubs? Perform open heart surgery?
*open mouth, wide eyed wonder*
I guess only the second half of this posting was truly Emirates: Tribute to Entity. The first half was more of the U.S. Airlines: Unmitigated Frustration variety. Can frustration be unmitigated?
Friday, May 12, 2006
Homeland Security: Tribute To Entity
So I've been home five days or thereabouts, so far so good. More on that later.
This post is a series of two written in tribute to two entities that made my return to the fatherland (or motherland, whatever floats your boat) pleasant and anuerysm-free: Emirates (the airline) and the United States Department of Homeland Security. What?? For serious, Matil**, the DHS has got my back.
We will discuss in this post the DHS. In the interest of brevity, I'm going to relate my experience in bullet form... with timestamps!! In addition, I will refrain from mentioning exact dates and physical descriptions in order to protect the identities and careers of my benefactors.
Note: Times accurate to within +/- 10 minutes
0720: Arrive at JFK Terminal 4.
0721: Get lost. Ask for help.
0728: Check in. Passport examined. Boarding pass obtained.
0740: Leave 2 pieces of checked baggage with security. Interestingly they didn't require the suitcase or the bag to be unlocked. Either they have incredibly advanced X-Ray machines, or they like breaking into things.
0745: Begin hunt for mysterious room 161/011 for Special Registrants (i.e. suspected terrorists i.e. me).
0748: Ask airport staff for assistance. Fellow gives me precise directions.
0749: Get lost. Ask for help. Fellow gives me precise directions.
0755: Arrive at mysterious room 161/011. It turns out to be a lost luggage office for Swiss Air. No one around. Interesting...
0758: Wonder why the DHS doesn't have its own room. Swiss Air fellow tells me their office is now around the corner.
0801: Arrive at DHS office. 2 agents sitting in front of 2 PCs. One male, one female, and that's all the info on them you're getting.
0802: Give the female my documents.
0803: Female asks for my I-94 (document required to have departure recorded, and therefore also for legal re-entry).
0803: It's in the passport woman! Use your eyes!
0803: No, it isn't Sir.
0804: Check passport. No I-94. Hyperventilate.
0805: Female says to me,"This does not help me."
0805: I say to me,"This does not help me."
0806: Hyperventilation continues. Carry-on bags emptied. No I-94.
0807: Apologies. No clue where the I-94 is. Will you accept a copy?
0807: "This does not help me."
0808: Ultra-hyperventilation.
0809: Male agent now free. Watching situation with interest. Fingerprinting. Questions.
0810: Female pulls out a new I-94 form. To her colleague, "It doesn't matter to me. I am only doing this to help him."
0810: Help? Me? Cardiac Arrest averted. Attention paid.
0811: New I-94 given to me with old number written on in pen. "I have made note of the loss of your original one." Legal exit and possibly subsequent re-entry to the United States now possible. Heartbeat begins long journey to normal.
0812: Express profound gratitude. Start rambling about good times in the U.S.
0813: DHS Agents share stories. Offer immigration advice. "If you come back on a work visa, you can stick around long enough to get residency. Try to get a job here. That's how you get a green card."
0814: Almost faint with shock. DHS agents offering a Pakistani citizen immigration advice??
0815: Friendly goodbyes. No longer feel like a criminal.
0830: Make way to departure gate. Talking to Tif on phone. Sudden idea: The silly** Emirates check-in girl took my I-94 when I checked in at 0728! Didn't see the deed occur because of angle of counter. Rush back to counter.
0831: Get lost. Hyperventilate.
0832: Find counter. Show silly** girl my new I-94. Did you take my old one?
0833: Silly** girl in shock. Why do you have that? We're supposed to take them from every departing non-citizen.
0835: Light comes on. Give it back. My buddies at the DHS will want to have a look at it.
0836: Make way back to DHS office.
0837: Male & Female happy, if a little surprised, to see me again.
0838: Situation explained. No one had made clear that registration is to occur before check-in. So I-94 gone then. (To be fair to me, when I flew out of Detroit, my I-94 was taken AFTER check-in).
0839: Female tears up new I-94, stamps old one, hands it to me, smiles all round, music plays, credits roll.
0840: Another sad goodbye.
0843: Return to Emirates counter. Give correctly stamped, 100% legal I-94 to silly** girl.
0850: Go through final security check.
0900: Arrive at gate.
0940: Exit stage right.***
Important Notes
* "For serious, Matil": Expression indicating earnestness first used by Derek Zoolander in 2001 when talking to the future Matilda Zoolander... or Matil.
** Silly girl not actually silly.
*** The first known positive US Department of Homeland Security experience is now officially a part of public record.
This post is a series of two written in tribute to two entities that made my return to the fatherland (or motherland, whatever floats your boat) pleasant and anuerysm-free: Emirates (the airline) and the United States Department of Homeland Security. What?? For serious, Matil**, the DHS has got my back.
We will discuss in this post the DHS. In the interest of brevity, I'm going to relate my experience in bullet form... with timestamps!! In addition, I will refrain from mentioning exact dates and physical descriptions in order to protect the identities and careers of my benefactors.
Note: Times accurate to within +/- 10 minutes
0720: Arrive at JFK Terminal 4.
0721: Get lost. Ask for help.
0728: Check in. Passport examined. Boarding pass obtained.
0740: Leave 2 pieces of checked baggage with security. Interestingly they didn't require the suitcase or the bag to be unlocked. Either they have incredibly advanced X-Ray machines, or they like breaking into things.
0745: Begin hunt for mysterious room 161/011 for Special Registrants (i.e. suspected terrorists i.e. me).
0748: Ask airport staff for assistance. Fellow gives me precise directions.
0749: Get lost. Ask for help. Fellow gives me precise directions.
0755: Arrive at mysterious room 161/011. It turns out to be a lost luggage office for Swiss Air. No one around. Interesting...
0758: Wonder why the DHS doesn't have its own room. Swiss Air fellow tells me their office is now around the corner.
0801: Arrive at DHS office. 2 agents sitting in front of 2 PCs. One male, one female, and that's all the info on them you're getting.
0802: Give the female my documents.
0803: Female asks for my I-94 (document required to have departure recorded, and therefore also for legal re-entry).
0803: It's in the passport woman! Use your eyes!
0803: No, it isn't Sir.
0804: Check passport. No I-94. Hyperventilate.
0805: Female says to me,"This does not help me."
0805: I say to me,"This does not help me."
0806: Hyperventilation continues. Carry-on bags emptied. No I-94.
0807: Apologies. No clue where the I-94 is. Will you accept a copy?
0807: "This does not help me."
0808: Ultra-hyperventilation.
0809: Male agent now free. Watching situation with interest. Fingerprinting. Questions.
0810: Female pulls out a new I-94 form. To her colleague, "It doesn't matter to me. I am only doing this to help him."
0810: Help? Me? Cardiac Arrest averted. Attention paid.
0811: New I-94 given to me with old number written on in pen. "I have made note of the loss of your original one." Legal exit and possibly subsequent re-entry to the United States now possible. Heartbeat begins long journey to normal.
0812: Express profound gratitude. Start rambling about good times in the U.S.
0813: DHS Agents share stories. Offer immigration advice. "If you come back on a work visa, you can stick around long enough to get residency. Try to get a job here. That's how you get a green card."
0814: Almost faint with shock. DHS agents offering a Pakistani citizen immigration advice??
0815: Friendly goodbyes. No longer feel like a criminal.
0830: Make way to departure gate. Talking to Tif on phone. Sudden idea: The silly** Emirates check-in girl took my I-94 when I checked in at 0728! Didn't see the deed occur because of angle of counter. Rush back to counter.
0831: Get lost. Hyperventilate.
0832: Find counter. Show silly** girl my new I-94. Did you take my old one?
0833: Silly** girl in shock. Why do you have that? We're supposed to take them from every departing non-citizen.
0835: Light comes on. Give it back. My buddies at the DHS will want to have a look at it.
0836: Make way back to DHS office.
0837: Male & Female happy, if a little surprised, to see me again.
0838: Situation explained. No one had made clear that registration is to occur before check-in. So I-94 gone then. (To be fair to me, when I flew out of Detroit, my I-94 was taken AFTER check-in).
0839: Female tears up new I-94, stamps old one, hands it to me, smiles all round, music plays, credits roll.
0840: Another sad goodbye.
0843: Return to Emirates counter. Give correctly stamped, 100% legal I-94 to silly** girl.
0850: Go through final security check.
0900: Arrive at gate.
0940: Exit stage right.***
Important Notes
* "For serious, Matil": Expression indicating earnestness first used by Derek Zoolander in 2001 when talking to the future Matilda Zoolander... or Matil.
** Silly girl not actually silly.
*** The first known positive US Department of Homeland Security experience is now officially a part of public record.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)