After the conference, I spent my last day in KL just
relaxing. My flight to Bali left at 6 pm. At first I wished I had left earlier,
to have more time in Bali. Then I realized this was great, I needed a break
(and sleep) before heading out on my vacation. The jetlag from a 15 hour time
change has been a bitch, needless to say. I don’t adjust well to jetlag,
particularly not when a 15 hour time change is involved. My body and brain
don’t know which way is up or down, whether it should sleep or be awake,
whether it is hungry or not. I spent the last day sleeping in, having a
leisurely breakfast, working out and going for a dip in the pool. I thought
everything was under control and that I would leisurely and calmly make my way
to the airport. We had to check out at 2, and my flight wasn’t until 6. I
decided to take the subway and train to the airport rather than a taxi to save
my work a lot of money. What I should have realized at this point was that everything
had gone FAR too smoothly for Kimberly travel thus far in KL. No real hiccups
to speak of, everything going smoothly. I should have known all would change…
A trip I’m on wouldn’t be complete without some type of
major upheaval or craziness. Hell, in a 5-star resort in Mexico, I spent nearly
the entire week puking and diarrhea-ing my brains out. Nice visual, I know, but
it has to be acknowledged that when I leave the country, regardless of the
destination, insanity WILL insue. I’ve had guns pointed at me, been stranded in
strange cities, walked around in casts, been stung by a stingray, had luggage
break on me, and had too much other crazy shit to even recount happen. I need
to remember that when things are going TOO well, the universe will align and
something will go crazy.
Case in point: my leisurely trip to the airport. A normal
person would have gotten on a subway, and then caught a train to the airport.
They would have gotten off said train and walked up to check their bag without
being a shit show. We can pretend that happened, or you can choose to read
about what really happened.
All was fine until the moment I stepped off the train. I am
(as we speak) flying on AirAsia, an EXTREMLY low-budget airline. My 3-hour
flight was around $100. I knew that KL had a “low-cost carrier terminal” that
was separate from the main terminal. I also knew that either a taxi or bus ride
was in order to get from the main airport’s train station to said low-cost
terminal. What I DIDN’T know was the time involved in this process. I thought I
had it all planned out. I would get to the airport around 2 hours prior to
departure, no problem. Going from the main airport terminal to finding the bus
took WAY longer than anticipated. While starting to stress a bit, I thought it
would still be fine. I had a few minute bus ride, no problem. I wouldn’t get to
the airport at the recommended 2-hour prior to departure mark, but 90 minutes would
be plenty of time. When I finally found the bus, I realized it had very
infrequent departures. At this point, a bit of panic started to set in. I still
maintain in my mind, however, that the bus ride will be short, I WILL BE FINE.
I keep repeating this mantra to myself. I have yet to miss a flight, and didn’t
intend to start now. I was briefly distracted talking to a Brazilian guy who
had lived in Seattle (random). I still had no idea how long the bus took to get
to the airport. I finally asked if he knew, and he said at least 20 minutes. At
this point, before even boarding said bus, I was 90 minutes out from departure
time. Extreme panic starting to set-in. It started to sink in that, fuck, I am
actually going to miss my flight. The rickety ass old bus from 1962 finally
pulled up to a screeching halt, and I asked the driver how long the trip would
be. He confirmed my worst fear: it would indeed take “at least” 20 minutes. My
sinking suspicion would be that it would actually be more. Drivers in KL tend to
say everything is 20 minutes, even if it is much longer. We all boarded the
bus, and then it just sat there. They didn’t go to turn it on, shut the doors,
or do anything else that would signify that the bus was indeed leaving. I asked
the driver when we were leaving, wondering if I should just hop in a cab. He
assured me in just a few minutes. The minutes ticked by. Questions swirled in
my mind: Do I get off? How long will lit take to get to the taxi stand area? Is
it worth it? What if there aren’t any taxis? WHY THE FUCK AREN’T WE LEAVING?!?!
75 minutes until departure. 20 minutes on the bus. Luggage
check-in ends 45 minutes before departure. You do the math. I had 10 minutes to
work with. At this point, I decided I had to get off the bus and get in a taxi.
I picked up all of my shit, trampled over suitcases that littered the aisles,
hit a few people in the process and made my way for the door. The driver
finally (of course) started the bus at this exact moment and we drove away.
Then I had to make my way back over all of the littered luggage, back to my
seat with my suitcase in hand, all while moving. You can imagine how well this
went over with everyone in aisle seats. I just decided I would have faith that
the journey would be 10 minutes and I would somehow get to luggage check-in in
time and not miss my flight. I also knew there was another flight at 8, and
hoped it wasn’t full. We mosey along the highway, sounding like the engine is
going to drop out of the bus, but making great time. I am a shit show. Freaking
out, panicking. Pissed off at myself for trying to save work money, only to
likely end up costing me a shit ton. Eventually, I can see the airport. I can
also see the maze of cars driving every which way. There are no lines of
traffic. There are fucking cars parked in the middle of the road on the way to
the airport. Why? Beats me. I am a shit show. The traffic is a shit show. I
resolve to the fact that I WILL miss my flight. Repeat, at this point: I am a
shit show.
We eventually, and miraculously make it to the terminal. Or
I think it is. It looks more like a parking lot. I have 7 minutes until the
baggage drop off closes. I decide to haul ass and just resound myself that I am
getting on that damn flight. Come hell or high water, I AM GETTING ON THAT
FLIGHT. I pushed my luggage in front of me (carry on size, spinner suitcase),
put my head down and started sprinting as fast as I could, while pushing a
piece of luggage in front of me. I was literally screaming: “SORRY, SORRY! MOVE
PLEASE, MOVE PLEASE! I AM GOING TO MISS MY FLIGHT!” I had a purple backpack on,
two pillows dangling from it, pushing my purple suitcase, head down, straight
into hoards of people. It sort of reminded me of those things football players
push around at practice. That is pretty much what I looked like. Hunched down
and hauling ass. I could feel my pillows flailing in the wind, going every
which way, and could tell each time I hit someone. HAHAHAHA. Sometimes you just
gotta do whatchu gotta do. The airport was a shit show. I continued to be a
shit show. It was the most confusing and unorganized airport I have ever seen.
Picture the oldest airport you can housed in a metal box, and that is where I
was. KL is building a nice and fancy new low-cost terminal at the main airport,
and I imagine this POS will be bulldozed. I had to get my back checked through security
before getting in line. 4 minutes. I somehow managed to get through in a flash
and after a flurry of questions, made my way to the appropriate counter (they
only were marked with numbers and “International travel” signs. Madness. I
arrived at the counter in a huff, sweaty and out of breath. I immediately told
the agent that I was on the 6:00 flight to Bali and wondered if I was going to
make it (it was 5:15). She looked at me (rightfully so) like I was crazy and
seemed confused. She said yes, tagged my luggage, informed me I owed an additional
100 ringitt (about $33 USD) in luggage fees (no free luggage on AirAsia). I disgruntly
paid (had already pre-paid some, but my bag was of course heavier than I thought it would be), but thought who cares, I am going to make my flight!
Boarding had just started, and I had to again haul ass through
customs and security. The first unrealistic step had been accomplished, I got
my luggage checked! I made my way to customs, hopeful that I would fly through.
I would likely be the last on the plane, but I kept repeating to myself: I AM
GETTING ON THAT PLANE!!!! Customs was a similar shit show. Shit show Kimberly
returned. The lines were ridiculous and again, resolved myself that I would
miss my flight. I looked at my phone every 30 seconds, counting down the
minutes until the plane door closed. Yet, somehow, with 20 minutes to go before
the doors closed, I made it through immigration! Next up, getting through
security. I somehow also got through that, and knew I could make it, if I set
off at a run again. I ran and found my gate, hoping that the door would still
be open. For any of you who have watched the show Friends, remember that
episode when Phoebe runs like a spastic and Rachel is embarrassed? I looked
like Phoebe. Arms flailing, pillows a’flying, backpack bobbing left to right,
up and down. I show up to my gate only to find no plane there! The plane is
late and boarding hasn’t even started. Dear AirAsia, having this on the reader
board would have prevented the near brain aneurism I was having!!!
Miracles upon miracles, I
somehow made that flight. My mantra worked. We had to walk outside quite a
distance to get on this shitty ass plane I sit on now. But, oh well, I am
headed to BALI!!! This is all just par for the course of what I have to deal
with when traveling.
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