TAJ MAHAL CLSD: K THX BIE

It had been a long day, after a long night. The morning before I had awoken to find my bed had become the newest truck stop along the superhighway of mini Indian red ants. My bed was teeming with the small red ants. All I could think of was the red ant attack in a Panamanian hillside field that left my ankles scarred. These ants however, being that was india and all, were pure veg, I guess? No bites.

Onto the next day. 6 am start, with a drive to Vrindavan, the birth place of Krishna for a few hours and then south to the temple city of Mathura where I photographed Vishram Ghat which is where pilgrims go to bath themselves in the Yamuna river. It was one of the dirtiest places I have ever been. Period.

After my bath, we hopped back in our station wagon and headed south to Agra for the money shot. Taj baby. Taj Mahal, here we come. Some 8 hours after the start of our day we arrived at the lesser known eastern gate ( to avoid the lines) to enter the Taj. I was stoked.

The road was deserted. Military wearing flack jackets lined the street. Suddenly as we neared the gate (no cars permitted within 500m of the Taj due to emission pollution) a man wearing a somewhat matching military outfit leapt at our car with a giant stick.

Let me press the pause button here. Mid stride. Toungue dangling like a race horse. Fingernails long and untrimmed, beret askew. His outfit was a combination of fatigues and whatever else was he could find in his closet that was green.

Ok, play.

Our driver slammed on his brakes and through his open window the stick stopped centimeters from smashing his nose into oblivion. For no apparent reason our car had been allowed to drive down a secured street that was closed to, well, everyone.

Sensing danger, foto loco jumps to action questioning the soldiers actions. The soldier screams back “TAJ MAHAL CLSED. K THX BIE”. At this point this fellow’s commander steps up, and with no hint of an accent explains that there is a VVIP visiting the Taj and it has been closed until further notice. Foto loco explains that we have come from all the way from NYC to foto the Taj. With a smile he asks us to come back Saturday. As we pull away I ask which VVIP is visiting and he replies that it is the Prime minister of Thailand. I lean out the window and tell him that Surayut Chulanon in my cousin and it should be no problem to let us in. And that it’s all a big misunderstanding and he is expecting to meet us at the fountain! The commander laughs and sends us on our way, only to stop our car moments later to inform us that it is actually (to my horror and dismay) the president of Hungary, not the PM of Thailand, who is visiting.

As we drive up the road our car wades through a throng of tourists who are all asking “Did you come from the Taj?” “Is the Taj Mahal open now!?” We decide to try another gate.

As we arrive at the western gate we come upon a thousand people queued up for entrance. Before I have time to swear, they start letting them in. “Fuck! We should have stayed at the eastern gate.” Suddenly a man approaches and offers to get us in for 500 rupees. I am keenly allergic to scams, but foto loco jumps at the offer. Suddenly we are being led through a maze of winding alleys, past fake jewel shops and cows sleeping in the road. We turn several corners and our guide is yelling at us to keep up. We are running. People are looking. People are laughing. At this point, I am sure some Indian ninjas are going to leap out and flip us. I hang back. Foto loco pulls ahead. Another corner turned. A long stone paved street and suddenly another Taj gate! Foto loco runs up and buys tickets and pays our guide who is screaming “GIVE ME MY MONEY” Foto loco throws a wad of rupees at him and sails through the huge wooden gates. Suddenly the doors start to close. A throng of people surge forward to try and get in. I am caught up in a wave of kicking and screaming. Arms are flying, legs are shuffling, spit is being distributed freely. This is totally Indiana Jones and the Last Temple of Doom type shit! I am gonna have to tuck and roll to get in the door. Where is my whip! SHIT!!!!!

Suddenly an arm clad in green and medals reaches through the door and grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me toward the door. My camera bag snags on some ones face. They scream. I pull hard and stumble through the entrance, bag in hand. The gate closes with a thunderous boom. I am thrown up against a wall and searched by the man who pulled me in. The gaurd finds nothing offensive in the bag and let me pass (after an unruly, slightly sexual pat down). I turn and look. I am literally the last person who got into the Taj Mahal. BOOYAH baby.

Cameras in tow, we head towards one of the seven wonders of the world.