Ankasa Executive Sees Airport Security in Action Sachin Ahluwalia, co-founder of the home décor company Ankasa, in Provence, France. He says Asian trips inspire him. I'M a fashion designer and co-founder of Ankasa, a home furnishings company. I'm traveling all the time and really get a lot of inspiration on my trips to Asia. I'm there about every 45 days, and then travel domestically quite a bit, too. My wife thinks I'm on a plane all the time. I don't think she's wrong. Q. How often do you fly? A. About twice a month, mostly international, with some domestic. Q. What's your least favorite airport? A. The Leonardo da Vinci airport in Rome. For me, it's the most confusing airport I've ever been in. Q. Of all the places you've been, what's the best? A. South Africa has to be my favorite. I just think it's very beautiful, and the people are wonderful. There's almost a spiritual quality to the landscape. Q. What's your secret airport vice? A. I work in the fashion district and I'm a designer. I normally wouldn't be caught dead with a McDonald's bag. But when I'm at the airport, I'm all about McDonald's and the double cheeseburger, fries, hash browns, sausage biscuits. You name it, I'll eat it. I know some people complain about airport security, but I've always been pretty impressed. I remember being on a flight to London that just left the gate when the pilot announced that we had a mechanical issue and we were headed back to the gate. He also told us we had to stay in our seats and we weren't allowed to even get up to use the restroom. I thought that was kind of weird, but as soon as we stopped, a bunch of armed men dressed in military fatigues boarded and stormed the cabin. I quickly went from thinking things were weird to thinking things were pretty scary. Everything happened really fast. The military guys, or at least I think they were military, grabbed two men sitting behind me and rushed them off the plane. I guess I was a little naïve because I thought we would now be on our way. But instead we were asked to exit the plane and to leave all of our stuff behind. That meant everything like briefcases, purses, coats, you name it. We were held in a room just outside the boarding gate and didn't have a clue what was going on. What was interesting is that not one of us talked to each other. We had to stay in the room for the next four hours, and if someone had to use a restroom, that person was escorted. When I was escorted to the restroom, I saw that the whole terminal was evacuated. We did eventually board the plane and when I got back home, I searched everywhere to try to find some information on the incident, but came across nothing. From that point on, I've been really aware of how much protection security does without anyone ever realizing it. The Leonardo da Vinci airport in Rome has to be the most confusing airport in the world. On one of my earlier trips from Rome to Milan, I got to my gate early and decided to have a coffee across from what I thought was my gate. There were several gates in the same vicinity and every five minutes there would be an incoherent announcement in Italian and the passengers, like a herd of sheep, would shuffle from one gate to the other. Amused, I paid for my coffee and boarded the plane. I sat down next to an elderly gentleman wearing an old suit that looked like it was from an old classic Sophia Loren movie. I tried to strike up a conversation. I asked in English if he lived in Milan, which was my destination, and if he was traveling for work. He replied in fluent Italian, which was completely incomprehensible to me. But he ended the sentence in "Bologna." Not having understood a word he said except "Bologna," I asked the same question again in my poor Italian, Spanish and French. He replied again in fluent Italian, and was perturbed with me, but he kept ending his reply in "Bologna." After a few failed attempts, I looked around the plane, which was almost completely boarded, and heard my name called out on loudspeaker. I pressed the call button and several staff members rushed over to me and start screaming at me in Italian. Again, I had no clue what they were saying. I tried to explain our language predicament, but was getting nowhere. The woman sitting behind me was American and yelled: "Get off this plane, you fool. It's going to Bologna, not Milan. It was not one of my finer travel moments. By Sachin Ahluwalia, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com