Education indeed. Getting to Phnom Penh took me to yet another learning curve. Not being able to fly out of Dhaka for almost close to 18 hours is a story to share, but getting de-planed and watching passengers reacting to the situation is another narrative altogether. Re-fuelling had failed as the pump wasn’t working and more than three flights were stuck and couldn’t take off and passengers had to be transported to hotels after midnight.
After midnight, this Dhaka that I breathe in, looked different. The driver of the microbus from a pre-dinosaur era was in a hurry to pick up the other batch from the airport. The transport had the smell of a burnt cigarette, with a real-life smoker up at the front huffing and puffing about having missed his flight. In no time, I decided not to give up on this adventure and stuck to the general plan instead of opting for my chauffeur. He drove at 160 miles an hour, braving export-laden trucks, and cheering every time he saved us from getting hit by any one of them.