Flying back from KL

There were lots of angry people at Kuala Lumpur International Airport today. There was a white haired British gent behind me in the check in queue who wouldn’t stop swearing because things were going fast enough. He must have got more annoyed, because later I saw him take the slow queue through Immigration while I lucked out and got a fast one.
I luncheoned at Starbucks then went for a walk. There’s a Harrods teashop in KLIA with an eight foot Teddy bear in Harrods uniform in the middle, and today it was surrounded by scowling middle aged white males, each sat alone at a table and each looking very very cross. So I hid in the toy shop (Hot Wheels cars are 30% cheaper in KL than in Singapore) then went to the gate to board.

There were no spare seats near the gate, because the world and his dog all believe the floor is made of lava so they have to put their bags on the seat adjacent to them. But as the gate was meant to open at 630, and it was 621, I didn’t bother looking for a seat, I just went and stood by the gate. A queue rapidly formed around me.

The gate didn’t rapidly open at 630. The four policemen behind the metal detector looked shifty, as only policemen can, and avoided eye contact. People behind me shuffled and muttered. What did I care? I had 45 minutes of sitting down to look forward to.

I got my laptop out, removed my belt, and when at 7pm the gate was finally opened, I put my stuff on the tray, let it get x rayed and walked through. The person behind me had spent so long mithering that this caught her by surprise and she couldn’t figure out how to put her possessions into the tray without holding up the entire queue for ten minutes. Much to the glee of the policemen, it seemed.

Of course, I didn’t care because I had gone through, into an ante chamber where no Malaysian Airlines staff could be seen. They were all hiding down a floor and round a corner – were they worried that the customers would be mad at them?

It’s not worth getting cross about. Back in Singapore an hour later, and done.

3 thoughts on “Flying back from KL

  1. Ha … “mithering”. I’ve never read this word in my life, that I can remember, except in Peter Hook’s book, and now suddenly you’re using it. Co-incidence? I think not 🙂 Having not been on a plane in almost three years, I find your tales of airport antics somewhat interesting …

    1. Whatever I can do to entertain. I think the ideal number of times to fly is either every few weeks, or once a decade. If you’re doing it enough, you get good enough (and enough frequent flyer benefits) that it stops being painful. And if you fly really rarely, it’s special enough that it’s not onerous. But in between can be ghastly.

      Then again, the people in KL yesterday ranged from unfeasibly angry to incompetent at putting bags on conveyor belts, so there was a lot of room for improvement…

  2. Can’t be as bad as 2009. I had a package holiday to Sharm in Egypt, with sister, brother-in-law, mum, niece and nephew. The last day of the holiday we had a day trip where we were served lunch (the first and only time we ate outside of the all you can eat/drink hotel). The following morning, the day we needed to take the plane back home, I was feeling super rough, really bad. And then it started … my mother and I both got dysentry, on the one time we ate Egyptian food on a special day out (went on a Camel and met Bedouin folk and a snorkel spot). I can only presume everyone else got it, but mum’s symptoms didn’t start until after we arrived in the UK, and when she got home they had to call an emergency doctor. I was not so lucky. As soon as we arrived at the airport, the whole time on the plane, and coming off it, I literally could not control my bowels. It was royally disgusting. I had to sit on the plane with tissue paper stuffed into my pants, and kept having to go to the toilet every half an hour.

    At this point I could make a racist remark, but I’ll just leave this observation. I’ve been to many countries, and even lived in Japan for 3 years, but I’ve never in my life got dysentry, except the one time I ate food served by Egyptians … planes – I HATE THEM!!!

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