A Romeo, Juliet & Charlie Love Story
I landed at the beautiful Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi around 10:00 PM on October 4th, 2025. I didn’t go to sleep until the sun rose the next morning. What happened in that time frame can best be described as my first 8 hours in India.
As Ernest Hemingway reminds us in the epigraph to his 1926 novel The Sun Also Rises (quoting Ecclesiastes 1:4–5 from the King James Bible):
“One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever. The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to the place where he arose.”
India has over a billion people and is home to one of the world’s oldest continually inhabited cities: Varanasi. After arriving, I immediately thought of the quote above. India feels like the earth that “abideth for ever.” There’s something ancient here—people are born, people die, yet the rhythm continues. The sun had set at the airport, so let’s circle back to how it rose.
Escape Plan
Escaping Delhi Airport was chaotic, even for someone like me who was well-prepared to navigate India. Nothing could have truly readied me for it. Let’s skip deplaning, immigration, and baggage claim—that all went smoothly. With everything collected, rupees exchanged, I headed to the Airtel kiosk for an eSIM (most modern phones no longer have physical SIM slots, so this was my best option).
The Airtel counter was so crowded it reminded me of videos of Indian street vendors dishing out food faster than orders come in—packed with hopeful travelers desperate for cellular connection. I hadn’t been this excited since getting my first cell phone as a kid. Sadly, that childhood experience didn’t end well… and neither did this one.
Airtel Dreams
The Airtel staff were extremely friendly and helpful. Even months later, I still feel the same way. Just as airports connect people, our devices do too—and the folks facilitating that in India are genuinely kind.
Once everything was set up on my phone, I looked out at the chaotic scene outside: hundreds of “Romeos” waiting to pick up their American “Juliet.” In reality, most were what Indians call roadside Romeos, and I was certainly no Juliet.
The Airtel staff told me my phone would activate in 15 minutes. Thirty minutes passed. Then they said another 15. Several hours later, the story changed to “an outage.” Indian coffee is far too good (and strong), so I got antsy. I decided to leave the airport before my SIM activated. That was a mistake.
My Travel IQ
Even though my family owned a travel insurance company and I’m pretty street-smart, no past experience or YouTube video could have prepared me for the intricacies of the Gandhi Airport Romeos’ web of lies, hustle, and sales skills.
My eSIM still hadn’t activated, and I was sitting outside with all my luggage, waiting to be approached by the next handsome suitor. Their pitches seemed sweet and sensible at first, but I quickly felt uncomfortable. Many claimed they worked for the airport and that my caution wasn’t “customary.” I saw through the tactics—they were trying to make me feel bad as an American and trust them. Americans don’t like offending people, and we’re often too trusting.
Even though I couldn’t speak Hindi and it was the middle of the night, I clung to the hope of my Airtel activating like a literal lifeline—knowing I had bigger problems than just a phone.
The only time I was “scammed” in India wasn’t really a scam. I finally threw my hands up and accepted I’d need a Romeo’s help. The shoe was on the other foot now. I chose one with long hair and beet-red eyes—eyes that strongly suggested he was high on something. He led me to a taxi, bickered with a couple of others, and off we went.
Lajpat Nagar
Right after leaving airport grounds, my “savior” Romeo pulled over for a cigarette and chai. I happily joined—after a multi-day international flight, I was feeling some type of way.
We arrived in Old Delhi only to discover I’d booked an Airbnb in a rather sketchy area. It was evident when we couldn’t access it—roped off at night to block traffic, and not the safest spot. My sweet Romeo said he felt uncomfortable dropping me there. I was scared but didn’t show it, insisting I’d walk. He overruled me, saying he knew the perfect place.
We drove another 10 minutes, and I started panicking as street lights vanished into pitch black. My driver reassured me we were almost there. To my surprise, a friendly man with a flashlight appeared, and I saw a sign reading “US Tourism.” He ushered me inside while I settled with the driver.
The fare was the highest I’d pay all trip (set back at the airport), but whatever—it was my first ride in India, and most foreigners struggle there. My ego wasn’t too bruised.
The man I met next would change my life forever. He helped me gain a foothold in India… but man, did he come with baggage. The problem was, I still had mine too.
