William Sutcliffe - Are You Experienced?

This seat doesnt go back properly.

Of course it does.

It doesnt.

Look. Let me show you. I wrestle with the aeroplane seat. It wont budge. Youre right. Its broken.

She smirks in a half-hidden way, which is the most hostile way she could do it. Shes hiding it as if to say, Youre a jerk who cant take the fact that Im laughing at you. A few weeks ago, she would have grabbed me by the ears, laughed in my face and called me an impotent chauvinist twat. Now she shows me just enough of a smirk to let me know that shes noticed me being an idiot, but that Im not allowed to share it with her.

Can we change seats?

I dont answer. I arrived at the airport on time, checked in (asking specifically for a window-seat), and waited an hour and a half for Liz, who turned up with minutes to spare, and didnt even have any travellers cheques on her and had to get the whole lot at the airport and there was only one place open and if that had been closed I dont know what we would have done. Id Id have been travelling to India alone for three months. Or Id have had to lend her my money for Gods sake but we would have run out half-way through it wouldnt have been possible and its not my job to lend her money. I wouldnt have done it. She had weeks to get herself organized

Can we change seats? Youre reading anyway you dont need to lean back. I want to sleep.

Shes lying. Weve only just taken off, and its a clear day. There are still excellent views. I specifically wanted a window-seat so that I could see the views and I know its childish, but I love flying, OK? Im not ashamed of the fact that I enjoy the view from an aeroplane. So maybe I am a bit old for that, but I dont care. I just happen to be interested in it.

David? Are you listening?

She glares at me, her features arranged into a look of absolute scorn which says I dare you to tell me that you just want to see the view. I dare you. Go on, say it. Then itll be out in the open we wont be able to deny either of us that you are a twelve-year-old in the body of a nineteen-year-old that you have no shame about being an absolute prick.

Im not being paranoid its all there, written into the curve of her nostrils and the squint.

The most annoying thing is that I wasnt really reading. I was only glancing at my book, and was really looking out of the window. But now shes caught me in the act I cant tell her that I wasnt really reading, because thats exactly what she wants me to say to make me look selfish.

All right, I say. In a few minutes.

I close the book and pointedly look out of the window to demonstrate that Im not selfish, and that switching seats is a significant sacrifice. I hear Liz sigh, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see her shaking her head. Shes fixed it so that whatever I do, it confirms what she thinks of me.

She hates me. She thinks Im immature, selfish, bigoted and arrogant. Im giving her my seat, for Gods sake at some point, Im going to want to sleep, and I wont be able to because Ive given her the reclining seat and shes sitting there shaking her head because Im selfish. Its outrageous.

I dont understand why its happened. I dont know whats changed. A few weeks ago, we were best friends -we were almost in love. Now were stuck together, heading to India for three months, and shes treating me like a piece of rotten meat. Maybe I am immature, selfish, bigoted and arrogant, but she used to like me. I havent changed. So I dont see why I should alter my behaviour now, just because shes acting differently.

I had heard the old clich about how when you arrive in India, its like stepping into an oven, but this hadnt prepared me for the fact that when you arrive in India, it is like stepping into an oven.

Delhi airport was it was just taking the piss. That number of people simply couldnt fit into such a small space and not end up eating each other. It wasnt possible. And no one else even seemed to notice that it was crowded.

After queuing for several hours at immigration, we escaped the airport and discovered that it was even madder outside. The minute we were in the open air, several rugby teams of smelly men launched themselves at us and tried to pull us to bits, so that we could send separate limbs to town on different forms of transport. It was disgusting. I felt like I was being mugged. Mugged while inside an oven. And all the guys who were trying to get us into their taxis looked so poor and desperate that I just wanted to go home straight away.

Liz noticed that the other backpackers from our flight had got on a bus, so we breast-stroked through the crowd and clambered in behind them. The engine was already on, and we took our seats, relieved that we had made it in time. The driver pointed angrily at our bags, then at the roof of the bus. I noticed that no one else on the bus had their bags with them, so we got out of the bus and found ourselves back in a different crowd of people, all of whom seemed to be offering to put our stuff on the roof of the bus. I was convinced that theyd steal our rucksacks the minute I turned my back so I tried to climb up myself, but some guy with a red turban on, which gave him the appearance of being the chief bag-putter-on-roofer, pulled me off the ladder and tugged at my bag. I relented, and let him take our rucksacks. I watched him all the way and saw him lash down the bag with a rope. He looked as if he knew what he was doing, and there were several other bags up there already, so I decided that maybe it was all reasonably legal. When he came back down, he started doing a strange upward nodding gesture and saying munee munee.

He wants money, said Liz.

Why should I give him money? Its his job. I was quite willing to put it up there myself.

Just give him some money, for Gods sake. Ill get in and grab some seats.

I havent got any money yet, have I? It doesnt exactly look like he takes travellers cheques.

Just give him anything.

Like what? A roll of loo paper? Yesterdays Guardian?

She ignored me and got on the bus.

Munee. Munee.

I havent got any.

Munee.

He was beginning to tug at my clothes now, and the crowd of onlookers was closing in.

Look, mate I havent got any money yet. I have to go to a bank.

MUNEE!

I turned out my pockets to show him that I didnt have any money, and out fell a whole load of English coins. He gave me an evil stare, then bent over to pick up the coins. There was a mini riot while several people scrabbled for the cash, so I sneaked away and got into the bus, hoping that Id be out of sight before they realized that it was only English money.