Things That Bang

'Do you have change for a dollar?'

A silver haired sixty something year old asked me. I wondered if this was what Americans called polite mugging but then decided it couldn’t be. We both had passed through the American customs. He needed change and I was in a hurry to adopt a culture I knew nothing of.

Standing near the sliding doors I stared at the flyovers. The doors silently opened and closed again- inviting me to
step out in the platform of a deserted airport. It was three in the night and except for a few strangling arrivals the place was quiet.

I felt overwhelmed. I had left all that was familiar and was about to set foot into a world I had known only from afar.
“Papa! Mama!” The silver haired man and his wife embraced a young man. He bent down and touched their feet. I smiled. Arrivals were always a pleasure to watch. The family laughed, spoke cheerfully. The son pushed the luggage trolley out with his parents besides him.

I leaned against the coldness of my trolley bar and watched Indians, American’s and others pull their luggage off the carouser. I watched my husband pull the bags off.

He knew the country I didn’t. He had visited before but that was before the planes had flown into the towers and the world had changed.

It was new America. Much like me – a paranoid bride not knowing what the future held for her. All that was familiar was gone, we both had newer relationships to form, we both were given the choice whether to lead lives like we did before or start a new. Everything was different and we both were out of our element trusting someone else to lead us ahead.

My young husband beckoned me to get the trolley. It was the push forward one that I wasn’t used to. It wasn’t introduced in India as yet. The trolley moved smoothly on the marble floor. I smiled and quietly waited as he laid the bags on the trolley.

“We have to get a cab to the hotel.” He was out of breath. The bags were heavy- my clothes more than his.
“Lets step out.”

We walked out. The doors slid open for us. A cool breeze welcomed us and we saw a taxi sign nearby. I was told to wait on the side again. The yellow cab pulled over, the luggage put in the trunk not the dikie I was corrected gently.

The cabbie was a muslim from Sudan. He wore a skull cap and had a beard. His eyes twinkled but not once did he acknowledge me. Maybe it was a cultural thing with him. I gave him the benefit of doubt. I knew nothing about him to get all sanctimonious or feminist for that matter. He was just a cabbie and me a passenger.

He praised America, no mention of 9/11 was made. While he and my husband chatted amicably about America I stared out of the window at the passing buildings, the perfect landscaping, the well light highways and then the silent homes that housed big cars and people I had yet to understand and love.

“We’ve reached.”

I stared at sign that said – Marriot. Hunger made my stomach growl loudly, my husband laughed loudly handed me a little change he had kept from his previous trip. I was told to go grab some chips from the vending machine on the lobby as he settled the cab’s tab and checked us in.

I walked into the lobby. A sleepy Chinese American sat on the counter. He smiled and greeted me. I told him we were going to check in and my husband was coming in with the luggage. He nodded and went back to his novel.

I went to the vending machine and stared through the glass panel. I recognized Lays; something familiar. My mouth watered. I slide the dollar in. It came back out. I didn’t know what to do.

My husband was checking us in. I didn’t want to seem like a fool unable to use a vending machine. I smoothed the dollar bill (its not called a note, the way we called our currency in India – one of the many things told to me on the flight) and gently nudged it in.

I punched the numbers under the Lays and watched it slide forward and fall below.

“Got it?” he came over with the Keys and a bag.

I smiled triumphantly and showed him the packet. My first victory in the US.

I went back to the lobby to help him get the bags to our room. We had the weekend to go around and look for apartments, get food, call our parents back home. In America everyone led disciplined lives I was told- maintain a To Do List I had been told.

Life had already changed for me. I took out my toothbrush and night wear, sat on the edge of the tub and decided to go with the flow, get to know America just as I got to know my husband- at a slow steady pace. There was no hurry; we had all the time to experience each other.