America – from the plane and at the Philly Airport Transit Lounge

My first sight of America from the window of a Boeing 747 was not one the best of the earth below not as pilot, nor as passenger. I thought some not-so-beautiful parts of India look better.  The sky over Pennsylvania was some six octas in grey and the dark green patches in between did not combine so well with the gloominess of grey. I was also very hungry. Flying United for the first time, on a plane with some not so young flight attendants (who seemed to need attending themselves, some older than the ones you saw in Air India), you get the picture!

But just then I decided not to disappoint myself, moving on, and not to draw quick conclusions, and to stop allowing myself to be a critic. Something I saw myself fast becoming after my fortieth (though, some close friends might like to antedate that)! 

I firmed up to becoming patient, to wait and to watch. I watched, but it was only getting plainer! I could now spot clearly ugly and unkempt urban patches that were possibly honest American attempts to being modern, but, as are most things American are, the patches had the least concern for style.  My excitement greyed.  It was not the feeling before landing in a European city (not even if it were the twentieth time).  There, every time I was at this spot, I looked forward to seeing something culturally and aesthetically distinct, sharp, beautiful and enduring; something to capture in the mind and on cameras. But then, Philadelphia was not in Europe, therefore my expectation of it to appear like a manicured Lego-land from the sky was flawed!

Then, suddenly I brightened up on spotting a complex cluster of flyovers, one on top of the other, jumbled like a giant jigsaw of complex arcs. I was fascinated and had seen no other in my travels. I remembered those elaborate toy race car tracks of my childhood that could be assembled and was possessed by boys who had globe-trotting fathers. I also scared myself for a flash, thinking, what if there was an earthquake!

When the undercarriage and flaps came down, my first perspective of America was sharper. In another sense, it was an illusion no more. The plane was landing. I was landing in America, in one of its greatest cities!  And those cars below was real traffic, real stuff that I would be part of in the days to come, not in the same place exactly,  but somewhere similar, for the next 45 days. Pressing my face to the window I looked down and said to myself, this is America! You’ve seen it in the movies...  I braced up, confused and excited, and ran over my after landing check-list.

Between then and my wait at the lounge for my next aircraft, there was nothing significantly exciting. Boring yes, but there were many things to remember - visuals, sounds, tastes and smells to sponge as first impressions - for posterity. 

The wait at immigration was legendary by proportion of boring and irritating. I was tired and anything that added to that not-so-happy state, made me more impatient. I was looking for a place to stretch my legs, and, probably take a short nap.  I had never seen such a long queue before. But, the person at the counter totally reversed it. He was a complete opposite of the experience till then. He was courteous as a legend. 

(And I must make this note, that everyone I met at a POS or any counter from then on, everywhere else in America during that and later trips, were courteous and smart. Professional and quite the opposite of what one sees in Europe).

I then reached a very large place, a mall of sorts, with a humongous food court. It all seemed like it was constructed yesterday. And then I saw some really huge black men. Not some, but many black men and women. I had never seen so many in one place before. Not like those trendy black people one saw in Paris. These were very casually dressed. American! Some wore track pants, many wore sleeveless Ts, some spoke like in the movies and rap videos. And hey, this is not about black alone, there were badly dressed white and coloured men. Then, there were school kids who had baby faces but were built like adults, big and strong, humongous, as the food court. Many looked like they were back from some summer camp. In similar track suits, charging at huge platters of food. 

Man, this is a country of eaters I thought, an unashamed eater myself!