In countries like India, Egypt, and others, there's a pretty well known scam involving hotels. The cab drivers usually have a friend in on it, and it will involve your hotel's room being cancelled or overbooked. The cab driver then will bring you somewhere else that you will stay at, and he (and whoever else is in on it) will get a cut of the overpriced profits. That's to give an idea, to start.
I walk out the doors of the Delhi airport at almost midnight on the nose. I waited a few minutes for a cab, and off I go. Let's start by saying the airport is "A". So I get a cabbie that's overly friendly, of course, and I reciprocate the friendly mood, albeit subtly trying to clue him in that I'm not dense and know what's up.
As we get closer to the city center, the hints at what's to come start up. First off, it was the repeated "you're in the Islamic area...not safe" routine. I'm a grown-up. You may hate Islamic people, cabbie, but I don't. I simply hate scumbags. Then, knowing full well we are in the general vicinity of the hotel I was to stay at, I get a, "I can't find your hotel." So he tells me a "friend" can help us find it. Wait a minute. We went from: "You're staying in a bad area" to "I don't know where your hotel is"? So which one is it?
Smelling something bad coming, we stop at some shithole of a building (let's call it "B"), and even as I get out, I say bluntly that I won't book another room. We get inside to some small office building, and I'm then told I didn't give them the full address. Bullshit. I pull out my phone and even bring up the email confirmation of my reservation. SIM cards work magic, asshole. He wants the phone number, so I read it off for him. I then speak to a man that tells me my reservation had been cancelled and asked if I had gotten the email about it. Nope. Had I been less tired, I would have asked two or three questions to prove the man on the other end of the line was full of it. But I didn't. So I'm pissy.
I eventually walk back outside, and jump in the cab, but as I get in, I just sensed something really wrong, so I pulled up the email, tapped on the phone number, and called. That's when I get a completely different person on the phone, and the news that the number is the wrong number. So the one I read off to the jackass ten minutes earlier? Wasn't dialed. So we now have three people in on this scam. You'd be surprised how many tourists fall for this. And the people there are not easily talked out of doing what they want. Hence the need for "tourist police" in India.
I give this clown a way out by telling him to simply drop me off at the rail station ("R"). We pull up, and as I grab my stuff, he simply KEEPS DRIVING. All the while telling me he has "one other thing" he could do to "help" me. You know what you could do to help me? Drop dead. How about that? That would make me shit rainbows out of happiness. So I'm stuck in the cab and dial the number a second time to make sure it was, indeed, the wrong number. It was. So now I tell myself that I just want to see what this cabbie plans on doing. Also, the price of gas in relation to income? Very pricey. So I want to make this jackass waste gas on his dime. I already had no intention of paying my fare. Long story short? I'm an asshole if you piss me off, and I was raised to fight back. Sucks for this idiot driving the cab.
So we drive back towards the airport ("A") and about 3/4 of the way back, reach this dump of a strip of hotels (how about "H"). Yep. The scam they love to pull, and here I am, knowing what they did, and going through with it. We pull up....I walk into the lobby....drop my bag.....turn around.....and tell the cabbie, "You know what, I'm not staying here." When he asks why, I simply tell him I know the routine and what they did. When he tries to tell me he has no idea what I was talking about, he follows with the, "this room is on me" ploy. Nope. I want to go where I booked. Not to mention, I will get screwed financially, somehow. Likely by dropping a credit card for one reason or another. Nope. Not happening.
This continues for about five minutes with me back outside dropping numerous F bombs and getting angrier by the second as this douchebag keeps denying it. When I finally tell him I dialed the number and got someone else on the line? He tells me it could be someone else that worked there. Let's see. It's about 1:30am. Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. What hotel would have two people staffed at a desk at that time? Answer? None. He then mocks me with the, "yeah, ok" line. At this point, I wanted to just start swinging, but just said angrily, "By the way. It was the wrong number." I followed by asking how much he would love if I called the tourist police, and within thirty seconds, he was back in his cab and took off. Never bothered asking me for the fare, either. Small victory, right?
There's only one problem. I have no fucking idea where I am. With no idea what to do. In a country and city I have no clue about. I wander back and forth on that strip of hotels, with every cabbie just asking if I needed a room. I'm extremely tired, pissy, and cussing each and every one of them out. Not a single person even cared about someone else. I get that it's a poor country, but don't try to screw everyone over and use it as an excuse. Which they do and did.
Eventually, a cabbie pulls up and asks where I need to go. I ask how much to get to the rail station. Off we go back towards Delhi and the rail station ("R"). I get there, walk inside, and head upstairs towards the tourist office, which is obviously closed. A man proceeds to tell me that while the office there is closed, there are other offices that the government essentially uses as a broker to handle tickets for the rail. He leads me outside towards the cab stand, and proceeds to have the entire conversation with the cabbie in English. Very important little fact, by the way. Considering he stuck up for me when the cabbie wanted to overcharge by double to take a five minute ride.
So off we go - AGAIN - with no clue where I'm headed. At this point, many people reading this probably think I'm one extremely stupid man. I see your stupid, and raise you "what the fuck". As we get to the destination, I get out of the cab, walk through the front door, and wouldn't you fucking know it?
I AM BACK AT THE SAME BUILDING THE FIRST CABBIE BROUGHT ME TO.
I can't even make shit like this up. I wish there was a mathematical formula to give me the odds of that happening. There probably is, but I'm too lazy to look for it.
Anyhow, I walk in (into "B"), see the assclown that dialed his homeboy that was in on the plot to my left just sitting and doing nothing, and real loudly with a shit-eating grin on my face say, "I've been here before!!!" and glare back at that piece of garbage. He was sinking in his chair, no doubt wishing he could disappear at that moment.
The other young man ended up helping me, but only after meekly trying to get me to stay in India and buy rail tickets for other destinations. If you couldn't tell, I was in a foul mood. I wanted out. So at about 4:30am, I was out the door having paid for a plane ticket scheduled to take off at about 7:45am to Kathmandu. I hate flying. I also know what a bad reputation the airport in Kathmandu has. As much as those things combined would make me simply wait? I hated that fucking city even more. That's a seriously high level of hate when I set aside fearing for my own safety.
I walk back through the front door of the airport ("A") at about 5:00am.
Just to cover:
A to B (10 miles)
B to H (8 miles)
Near fistfight and lots of swearing at H (0 miles)
H to R (8 miles)
R to B (2 miles)
B to A (10 miles)
Which means everything above? Happened from midnight until five AM - a period of five hours. Five hours in Delhi? Is five too many. I want those hours of my life back. Most of you probably are amused by all of this, as you should be. This elaborate fuckstorm of a night is a microcosm of my life. I personally wouldn't have it any other way.
Eventually, more on the rest of the trip. Less words, however, and more pics.
EDIT: One part I forgot to tell was how I nearly didn't even leave the airport.
After checking my bag, I went through customs. As I'm waiting in line at customs, I see the woman that checked my bag, for me. Right away, I thought, "Yep. She's here for me." Sure enough? She was. "Could you come with me, sir?" And I followed.
Just off to the right of the customs check-in was an office. I'm not sure if the personnel that were there were military or police, but if police? Being armed with semi-automatic arms makes me understand just how good we have it, here.
The head of this personnel was at a desk, and was curious why I was leaving only hours after arriving. Fair enough. It was a question I actually expected. I explained briefly what had just happened, and just said bluntly, "I haven't had any sleep, and I just want to get out of here as soon as possible." Also, he had my passport. So he is sitting there for about 10-15 seconds, tapping my passport against his other palm, trying to decide to do with me. He then simply says, "Have a safe flight," and hands my passport back to me.
To say that I am lucky doesn't even begin to describe it.
