By Dr Rahim Said
There are many ways to begin a journey at an international airport. You can check the whereabouts of your ticket. You can check whether your luggage is with you. You can check your phone, your wallet, your boarding pass, too.
And you are particularly organised, even checking whether you have remembered your passport. Or, apparently, you can arrive at KLIA first and then conduct a small investigation into why you are unable to leave the country.
That was what happened to one unfortunate traveller who arrived at Kuala Lumpur International Airport without the one document that makes international travel possible. His passport.
At this point, most of us would panic. He did, too.
But desperation has a wonderful way of separating acquaintances from genuine friends. He called a friend.
And this friend did not ask the obvious question: “How on earth did you manage to leave home without your passport?” Perhaps there was no time for sarcasm.
Instead, he did something far more useful. He got on his motorcycle and headed for KLIA with the passport. Now, this is where the story becomes almost poetic.
Airlines may have sophisticated check-in systems. Airports may have automated immigration gates. There are biometric scanners, facial recognition, boarding passes stored in smartphones and enough technology to identify a human being from several metres away. But when a man forgets his passport, salvation apparently still arrives on two wheels.
Somewhere between home and KLIA, one motorcycle rider was carrying not merely a document but the difference between an international holiday and an extremely expensive lesson in personal responsibility.
The traveller was waiting anxiously near the airport entrance. His parents were already waiting at the boarding gate. Other passengers had started boarding. The clock was ticking. Then came the knight in motorcycle armour. Passport in hand.
The relief was apparently so overwhelming that the rescued man rushed towards his friend and kissed him several times. Under normal circumstances, that might have been an unexpected display of affection between two male friends.
But these were not normal circumstances.
This was a man who had just discovered that his friend was willing to risk KLIA traffic, motorcycle brakes, road rage, potholes and perhaps several traffic summonses to rescue him from his own stupidity. At that moment, kissing was probably cheaper than therapy.
And so, we arrive at the moral of the story: Never underestimate the value of a good friend. But equally, never underestimate the value of checking your passport before leaving home. Because friendship may get your passport to KLIA, it cannot guarantee that your friend will always be available.
Imagine the alternative. You call your friend.
“Bro, I forgot my passport.”
“Where are you?”
“KLIA.”
“Where’s the passport?”
“At home.”
“Okay. I’ll send it.”
“How?”
“Grab?”
“Too slow.”
“Motorcycle?”
“Go.”
And suddenly your friend has become an unpaid courier, emergency logistics officer, traffic negotiator and saviour of international travel. Perhaps Malaysia should establish a new airport service. KLIA Passport Rescue.
Forgot your passport? Press one.
Friend with motorcycle available? Press two.
Forgot your friend? Press three.
And if you press four, the automated voice simply says: “Congratulations. Your flight has departed.”
There is also something rather touching about the episode. We live in an age where people boast about having thousands of Facebook friends, hundreds of WhatsApp contacts and followers numbering in the tens of thousands.
Yet when your passport is sitting at home, and your plane is preparing to leave, you suddenly discover the difference between a contact and a friend.
WE