Let’s face it. Aunties are the worst travel companions. They really, really are. Like, really. Here’s a diagram, in case it isn’t clear how strongly I feel about traveling with aunties.
For starters, an aunty never travels without a colic infant or excess baggage.
If you’re the unlucky git sitting next to the aunty, rest assured that your flight will be an excruciating blur of excessively personal questions, rishta talk and baby screams.
If there are forms to fill on the flight, the aunty will make a gavaachi gaan (translation: lost cow) face and ask you where she can find her passport number.
When you go to the bathroom, the aunty will follow you, stand outside the stall and knock every two seconds. EVEN WHEN THERE ARE EMPTY STALLS EVERYWHERE!
Within a split second of landing, the aunty will attempt to remove her luggage and wrestle her way to the front of the plane, believing that this act will magically unlock all the doors.
She will not hesitate in crushing you if you get in her way. Or running her bag over your foot. Or poking you with pointed objects.
At the baggage carousel, she will refuse to pay for a porter and ask yours to help her with her bags.
In a nutshell, when you see an aunty in a flight check-in line, RUN! Run, and never look back.