What could possibly go wrong #3 ?

[It just gets better]
After a fitful sleep I awake unrefreshed and make my way down to le petit dejeuner. Shovel some salmon and cheese down my gob and hop on the Goddamn Hotel Bus From Hell (GHBFH) and get another free tour of CDG, before alighting at CDG Terminal 2E. No complaints, security are kind, even get frisked my a very cute Persian girl. Bonus. Air France lounge, opt for a beer this time to calm any ensuing stress. Board the plane on time, captain very suave tells us about the route he has prepared and how well his cabin staff are going to look after us. I'm sitting beside a twentysomething Indian, so I strike up a conversation. Turns out he lives in Melbourne and was just touring around Europe for the summer. Aha. We run through the gamut of conversation from Indian federalism to George Bush to the Euro passing briefly by Britney Spears, alighting on modern parenting and finally settling on Hinduism and Karma for in depth discussion. The trolley comes around, I order a beer, he a bloody Mary. Which he sends back with disgust, saying there is no tabasco or worstershire sauce in it. Karma indeed. I play chess and lose, nothing worse than getting beaten by a cocky Airbus I tell you.
Arrive into Delhi at 11pm, which as usual is a blast. Get a cab into town and start getting that "India feeling". Traffic is so chaotic that chaos seems pretty orderly in comparison, cows roam the streets, dogs shag on every street corner, people sleeping under bridges, on top of cars, in flowerbeds, otherwordly smells pervade the city. I love it.
My hotel is in Connaught place and they kindly held my reservation oevr. My room is a delight. There is a flat screen LCD TV out of the latest JVC catalog, but the bathroom looks like it was knocked together by 4 blind beggars (and probably was). Holes in the ceiling, lights half hanging out of the wall. Cockroach deterent in the drain. Sleep fitfully and wake up at 8am to make my way out to the airport to see if Air Sahara (why the hell are they called Air Sahara if they are in India) can rebook me on today's flight.
Indian airports have unamused military men at all entrances with big grave signs saying "No exit once checked in", but hey no problem, I'll make it. Air Sahara not in the airport yet, as the plane departs at 13:00. Settle down on the floor of the amazingly provincial Delhi airport, stick on my iPod and listen to some calming Zero 7 ("In the waiting line"), an hour later some lovely Air Sahara ladies arrive. I rush over and tell them my story. They look very concerned and tell me that I should come back in 90 miuntes when check in is nearly over, so they can tell me if there are any spare seats left. Resume causal sprawl on New Delhi's marble floor. 89 minutes later I go up to them with cheesiest of smiles this side of Cheddar, County Cheddar. She gives me an Indian shake of the head, which basically resembles one of those nodding dogs in the back of a car. She shakes it around the place like it is about to fall off her neck. She tells me to try Air India, which I do, only to be told the same story. Wait round till 40 minutes before departure and they can tell me.
I decide to give up and get the train instead (only 22 hours long). So I head to the exit, only to be told by the military man that I cannot exit. I tell him I missed my flight. He tells me to get Air Sahara to stamp my ticket. Air Sahara had 2 ladies at check in, who have both since pissed off and New Delhi International Airport is now completely void of Air Sahara employees. I explain this to him for at least 10 minutes after which he tells me to go to his boss at exit 1. Repeat story to unimpressed colonel of the Indian Army. She tells me to get the Airport Manager. You canot honestly believe how officious Indians are until you have met it first hand. There is no reasoning. No logic. So I leave her and go looking for Airport Manager. Ask first official looking person I see and he goes "Airport Manager, eh. Hmm. Well. I don't know". Looks like Delhi doesn't actually have an airport manager. At this stage i am contemplating eiher:
a) Just running out of the terminal at full speed when the doors open. Risking getting shot.
b) Waiting 24 hours till Air Sahara turn up for their daily flight to Kathmandu.
c) Throwing myself on the floor and having a hissy fit.
With that Indian airlines check in dude runs over to me and tells me they have a couple of seats left. All I need to do is go across the road to the ticket office................ I explain to him that they aren't letting me out of the building alive, so he escorts me to colonel nojoy and explains to her my predicament. After 5 miuntes of Hindi debating she flicks her head and I am free.
Squirt across the road, ticket office. Buy ticket. Run across road. Get new ticket analysed by same Colonel Needsaride. Checkin with about 12 seconds to go, and about 5 sweaty minutes later I am sitting in a delipidated 737 making my way up to Kathmandu.

So around about 52 hours after leaving Dublin I am sitting on top of the world, looking at the Himalayas, having a beer and wondering what all the fuss was about.