The types of places we choose to rest for the night can vary widely. In fact we spend a considerable chunk of our time simply exploring those options. In certain situations it makes the most sense to plan on sleeping on the floor at the airport. It wouldn’t have to be the floor but spending a whole night sleeping upright in a hard metal chair isn’t very comfortable. One such time was in Kuala Lumpur.
We had a short domestic flight in the evening into Kuala Lumpur and we had an international flight to Cambodia early in the morning. Of course we could get a taxi to a hotel, spend a few hours in a crappy part of town tossing and turning, get up at 3 in the morning, drink way too much coffee, and get another taxi to the airport, but that all seems like a big waste of energy and money.
So we arrived in Kuala Lumpur and had to walk around the perimeter of the airport from the domestic to the international terminal. It was late, it was hot, we had our packs on, and we were tired. When we finally found our way to the international ticketing area, things were pretty much shut down – nice and quiet. We strolled around for a couple of minutes scoping out possible sleeping spots. A nice spot would be quiet and away from the flow of foot traffic and it would preferably be somewhat close to a bathroom. We picked a spot and got situated, letting our tired bodies and delirious minds rest. Then Fern had to use the restroom.
Malaysia has flexible and inexpensive transportation options but for some reason there is never a simple direct path to get from one place to another. It’s a phenomenon that we’ve noticed many times and it’s so extreme that it’s actually pretty funny – not when you’re trying to get somewhere – but later. The Kuala Lumpur airport is no exception.
Since we didn’t have our boarding passes for the morning flight, and they would not give them to us yet, we were restricted to certain areas of the airport. Barely awake, and ready to pee her pants, Fern wandered off to find a bathroom. I wrapped the straps of all of our bags around my limbs and shut my eyes. Eventually I became aware that Fern had been gone for quite a while.
She had used a restroom earlier in the evening and went off to find it but this time it was closed. So she meandered through mazes and areas that weren’t off-limits and down to the floor below. A line of women were waiting at a door down a quiet hallway, so Fern assumed her spot at the end of the line. Being in an airport makes standing in line seem so commonplace. She stood there for a while and noticed that all of the women were wearing the traditional Muslim headscarf. This also didn’t seem unusual since a large percentage of the people in Malaysia are Muslim. She also noticed that they were staring at her and whispering to each other, apparently about her. Big surprise – that seemed pretty normal. People are constantly staring at her, pointing, and making comments, because she’s a beautiful American woman in a skimpy little dress and she has tattoos all over her back, shoulders, and arms.
Some girls came out of the door and yet the line wasn’t moving in. The neurons in Fern’s brain sped up for a moment. Something wasn’t right. She noticed shoes and flip-flops by the door. People frequently take their shoes off around here before they go indoors but not to go into a public restroom. She asked the girls in front of her if they were going to use the restroom or if she could go ahead. They giggled and pointed at the door. Fern’s eyes followed the direction of their pointing fingers to a small sign above the door that said “Muslim prayer room.”
jim@snorkelbandits.com