By Dr Rahim Said
When flying an airline associated with the name of a traditional Southeast Asian fabric, I have learnt one golden rule: always expect the unexpected.
Having become accustomed to the occasional delays on my regular flights between Bali, Kuala Lumpur and elsewhere, I boarded Flight OD1003 from Kota Kinabalu International Airport on Aug 21 expecting the usual aviation ritual — boarding, waiting, checking the watch, checking it again, and wondering whether “on time” had become an extinct concept.
But then something extraordinary happened. We took off exactly on time. I almost suspected something was wrong.
I immediately entered the event into my digital diary. One never knows when such a historic occasion might need to be documented for posterity. And then came another surprise.
The pilot came on the public-address system and cheerfully introduced himself as “the most handsome pilot in service.” There was, of course, no way for passengers to verify this rather ambitious claim. Since 9/11, airlines have understandably discouraged passengers from wandering into cockpits to conduct independent investigations.
Judging from the laughter and smiles around the cabin, however, I suspect the jury was still out. The pilot then announced: “My beautiful crew welcomes you!” Now, that statement I could verify.
The cabin crew really were impressive — young, smart, cheerful and efficient. The stewardesses looked lovely, and even the stewards appeared as though they had been selected not merely for their ability to serve coffee but also for their ability to brighten the cabin.
They smiled, served passengers courteously and went about their duties with a genuinely refreshing efficiency. For once, I thought, perhaps the airline had decided to surprise me pleasantly.
Two hours into the flight, our “handsome” pilot came on again, cheerfully informing us that we would be arriving on time. Excellent. Two miracles on the same flight.
But then I remembered my golden rule: Always expect the unexpected. And sure enough, the unexpected arrived — not in the form of the aircraft, but in the form of a bus.
After landing, passengers were left standing on the aircraft staircase waiting for the bus that was supposed to take us to the terminal. Eventually, we discovered the reason for the delay. The bus driver was asleep.
Not merely resting his eyes. Apparently, he had parked the bus with the air-conditioning running at full blast and had gone into a state of deep communion with the gods of sleep.
Passengers watched as a ground agent walked towards the front of the bus and began banging on the shaded windscreen. Nothing.
He banged again. Eventually, the driver stirred.
The agent then touched the windscreen and immediately shook his hands, apparently discovering that the glass had become an effective solar-powered frying pan.
After a few minutes, the driver emerged from the rear, walked reluctantly towards the driver’s seat and finally took command of the bus.
We were then loaded aboard. And when I say loaded, I mean loaded. We were packed into the bus like sardines who had paid for a rather expensive can of transport.
The bus eventually moved towards the terminal. It travelled at a respectable speed — although I wondered whether the driver was fully awake or merely operating on autopilot. Then came the final surprise.
When we reached the terminal entrance, the door was locked. So there we were: passengers trapped inside a stationary bus, already packed beyond the recommended sardine capacity, waiting for someone to unlock the terminal.
It was Friday. Naturally, speculation began. Perhaps the security personnel had gone for prayers. Perhaps they had not yet returned. Perhaps the terminal door had decided to observe prayers as well.
Whatever the reason, we waited. Eventually, the security personnel arrived, opened the door and allowed us into the terminal.
To their credit, the guards were extremely apologetic.
And so, after taking off precisely on time and being assured by the “handsome” pilot that we would arrive on schedule, our journey ended with us being held hostage by a sleeping bus driver and a locked terminal door. Nobody, however, appeared seriously angry.
Perhaps we Malaysians have simply developed the patience of saints when dealing with airports. Or perhaps frequent flyers have finally understood the secret of air travel: You can control your departure time, but you can never control what happens after you land.
So here is my travel advice. If you are flying that particular airline into KLIA on a Friday, don’t merely check your flight status. Check your expectations. Better still, lower them.
If the aircraft departs on time, celebrate. If the pilot announces that he is the most handsome man in the cockpit, believe him — there is no point arguing with someone who controls the aircraft. If the cabin crew are beautiful, enjoy the view.
If the pilot promises an on-time arrival, remain cautiously optimistic. But when the aircraft lands, do not assume that the journey is over. There may still be a sleeping bus driver. There may be a locked terminal door.
And there may even be someone missing because it is Friday. After all, when flying that particular airline, the destination printed on your boarding pass is merely a suggestion.
The real destination is wherever the unexpected decides to take you.
The views expressed here are entirely those of the writer
WE