[modified cross-post from Beth Goes to India]
So much of happiness to settle into my seat on the Delhi-Chicago flight and see in the entertainment guide that the two Bollywood movies playing are Shaadi Se Pehle and 36 China Town. So much of sadness to discover that the listings are a colossal lie and that the films actually showing are Shikhar and Fight Club. I mean, really. That's just mean. When I first saw the listings, I almost got up and ran over to my friend Lindsey's seat to tell her about this great auspicious occurrence. Good thing I didn't.
So is it any wonder that the flight home stank on ice? I slept - or rather "sat with my eyes closed" - restlessly off and on almost the whole way, rustling around in my seat, somehow unable to get to a good position or temperature and I'm sure annoying the daylights out of the shy Purdue grad student next to me. Also, the Saif-emblazoned bag of potato chips I had as part of a snack did not sit well. What kind of universe is this that something endorsed by Super Saif makes me unhappy? Bah!
I did watch part of Shikhar, enough to know I will probably never rent it, and I will say that I really like Ajay Devgan and I really don't like Shahid Kapoor. I know it's not his fault that he isn't Akshaye, but still. He always seems like he's trying so hard.
But now I'm home, and I've slept a lot, and had a shower, and am about to call up a friend I have sorely missed, and then out to breakfast, which is my very favorite thing to do on a Saturday. At some point I should go to the grocery store, but that involves making decisions about things, and I have zero interest in doing that. Let's just hope Saif will redeem himself with Being Cyrus, which is sitting on top of my tv, ready to be watched. Hurrah!