Our last day in Malaysia was New Years' Eve. It had been a life-changing vacation, and we weren't done yet.
We all know how important it is to arrive at the airport several hours early for your flight, especially for an international flight from an unknown airport. Melly and I sure knew this, and we arrived at the Kuala Lumpur International Airport with two and a half hours to spare. We were relaxed and confident.
We changed our clothes to prepare for the Korean cold, took out our contacts, and got ready. We mulled along at a leisurely pace, since we clearly had so much time to spare.
Then I noticed that our flight wasn't on the board.
Hm, maybe it's down that escalator in the international terminal, I thought. Made sense. We walked toward the stairs, and handed our itinerary to the guard at the top. He furrowed his brow, and mumbled disconcertedly to a co-worker. He looked at us and, in halting English, said, "This is wrong place. This flight…different airport."
Gasp.
As it turns out, Kuala Lumpur has TWO airports, the Kuala Lumpur International Airport, and the LCCT, which stands for Low Cost Carrier Terminal. I suppose I was just ignorant and foolish to assume my international flight departed from the International Airport, instead of some unintelligible acronym. My printed itinerary made no mention of this detail.
We had really wasted some time getting to this point, remember. Trying to control the panic that was rising up in my voice, I asked, "Okay, what do we do?"
"Well," he said, "there is a bus that goes to the other terminal. You had better hurry. I do not think you will make it."
Melly growled, "Fine, where is the bus???"
He pointed us to the bus stop. We paced around for several agonizing minutes, waiting for it show up. Finally, it showed up at 11:50 PM. We scrambled on. The bus departed at 11:55 PM, a scant 35 minutes before our flight was set to depart. We weren't sure at the time, but the bus ride would take twenty-five minutes.
Pulsing drums and a haunting flute pounded out an exotic car-chase tune through the bus speakers as we rolled along the empty freeway toward the LCCT. All we could do was sit and breathe.
On the road, I watched the clock on my phone, and when the time was right, I announced to the other passengers, "5…4…3…2…1…Happy New Year."
No one acknowledged me. I sighed. The car-chase music thumped on.
When the bus pulled up to the terminal, Melly and I had our packs on our backs, and dashed out like madmen when the doors slid open. We bounded madly through the terminal, which was showing all the telltale signs of being closed. As we passed, an employee called to us, "Where are you going?"
"AirAsia!!!"
"That way!!!"
We spun round a corner and saw the counter. Our flight would leave in ten minutes. Boarding should be closed by now. The velvet ropes that make up the little line-maze were pulled to a close. I ran and jumped over them (not easy, with my giant pack on my back). Melly ran and…well, tried to jump over them. Her feet caught the ropes and down she went, giant backpack and all. The metal posts toppled like dominoes. I had no time to be chivalrous. I raced up to the counter, Melly hastily putting the posts back up behind me.
I said as calmly as I could, "Hello we're very late we accidentally went to the International Airport please can we get to our flight????"
The man stared at me, as if to say "…really?" He typed quickly on his computer, and then shook his head and said, "I'm sorry…you're too late."
We slumped in defeat. What would this mean? Hundreds of dollars lost? Would we make it back to work on time? Where would we sleep tonight? Good lord we were exhausted!
"All right," I sighed, "all right, what can we do?"
The man typed. He didn't say anything for a moment. The knot in my stomach clenched.
"Wait," he said, "wait!"
We held our breath.
"You're very lucky," he said. My eyes widened. The man, focused as a laser, said to us, "When I hand you this ticket, you are going to have to run as fast as you can. Gate 11."
"Yes, sir! Yes, that's fine! Thank you!!!"
We waited like sprinters for the opening gunshot of a race. The man typed furiously. The boarding passes slid out of the printer.
"Here you are," he said," now GO!"
And we were off. Bounding through the halls of the empty terminal. We madly tossed our bags through the security check and picked them up without hardly missing a step, we ran down corridors and through halls, past gate after gate of empty seats, heaving breaths, sweat pouring off our faces in the hot Malaysian air.
The line of passengers was still slowly filing through the door at gate 11. Apparently, boarding had been delayed by a few short minutes. We jogged up to the line, panting and heaving and sweating like animals. It was 12:28 AM.
We had made it. It was a New Year's Eve we would never forget.
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