Recap II

I threaded carefully along the narrow cabin isle in search of my designated seat. 24D. I passed through the business class cabin filled with smart looking gentlemen in expensive clothing. I presented them with a quick, envious glance before I entered the economy class cabin.

The cabin was chaotic.There was a baby crying loudly nearby, beating up my eardrum senseless. There were people standing along the isle, waiting to pass through. Apparently they had to wait for this really huge guy to store his hand luggage in the overhead compartment as he was blocking the hallway. But he took forever to do it, much to the displeasure and annoyance of the people waiting in line. I bet there will be a petition for the banning of super fat people on airplanes soon.

I found my seat. I quickly stored my bagpack in the space allocated and settle down on my seat. Not that comfy, but decent enough for a 13 hours journey. The seat next to me is still empty. I started to have kinky thoughts; hoping that the person who will sit next to me is a hot lady wearing low cut dress and would fall asleep on my shoulder. Haha!

God knew what was in my head. So He decided to disappoint me. The passenger who sat next to me for the next 13 hours was a middle-aged Chinese woman named Auntie Christie. Apparently she travels the KL-London route quite often, thanks to her 20 years of marriage with an Englishman.

***

13 hours is a very long time. It is more than half a day, and without something interesting to fill the gap, you will start to lose patience and become very, very cranky. As for me, I tried to watch as many movies as possible. When I got bored of it or my eyes feels swollen from overexposure to the small screen, I close my eyes and think of pretty ladies. Or maybe I go to the toilet, wash my face up and go back to my seat (and continue thinking of pretty ladies). In the worst case, I would look around me and see if there are any pretty ladies nearby.

***

The food was unsurprisingly average. It was not appallingly dull, but average. But then again, what would you expect from a pre-packed food? So, I devoured the foods like nobody's business.

***

I reached London Heathrow after 13 hours of flight. A strange feeling invaded me. This is the place I've always wanted to be at since I was little. To see the all magnificent buildings and long history associated with this old capital in a closer view rather than kilobytes of informations on the web. Now that I'm here, what's next? Upon waiting for my turn at the immigration gate, I called home for few minutes. It was nice to hear my mom's voice again. But the call charge was ridiculously expensive.

I remembered my first purchase on the British soil. It was a shower gel from WHSmith. Seniors who picked me up from the airport gave me a UK simcard and a credit-card sized travel card called Oyster. A rather dumb name, I supposed. We took the tube to get to my student hall. Another one hour journey. The good thing was I didn't have to carry any of my bags. The seniors carried it all the way, like a willing team of Sherpas in Nepal. But thank God they were there.

That night, I stared blankly at the ceiling, not knowing what to do. There was no internet connection yet. So I read all the lovely farewell text messages that I received before I left Malaysia. And I fell asleep.

Recap

1218 days ago - I waited nervously in the departure lounge. 35 minutes to go. 35 minutes before I embark on a journey I knew I would never forget. 35 minutes to get my head straight and accept that it is finally happening. "Holy crap. This is real. I am not dreaming," I reassured myself. 

I sat on a purple cushioned bench and inhale the cold lounge air. My mind went through a massive recollection of memories.  I revisited the day I learnt to write my own name using a blunt red, non-toxic crayon suitable for a 4-year old. I admit, I got it wrong the first time (Wan Ahmat Zahidi? How awful. But always better than Izham Ismail). 

Amid the roaring laughter from fellow friends around me, I was locked in solitary silence. I forced my mind to browse frantically for more fond memories. I needed them to keep myself at ease. I was in the overlapping region of joy, nervousness, anxiety, and even fear. 

I managed to hold on to one. I remembered my primary school days. Being in an all boys primary school does not make a person gay. I remembered the elite class I was in. The same class I was in for 6 years. I arched the corner of my lips, smiling at some of the bizarre and memorable things that had happened. Of how Cikgu Ghani (our KH teacher) went berserk one afternoon because the workshop was too hot. Of how Shafa, a boy from 4D got his penis stuck to his zipper and cried like hell. I thought of all the shirtless moments that me and my classmates had as the punishment for playing football during recess. How I lost my librarian post as I decided to join in the fun at the school field instead of recording the flow of book in and out of the library. "Good shit," I said to myself.

I decided my reminiscing time is over and it is time to face reality. I gazed at the paper ticket on my lap. "KLIA - London Heathrow EDT 1015 16 September 2008". I folded it and safely tuck it in between the pages of my passport. I looked at the people around me. Faiq, Ikhwan and Pris were chatting to each other; probably imagining how their campus would be like. Little did they know they will spend the rest of their next 5 years in 'Bangladesh' (read: Whitechapel). 

I took out my handphone and dialed Mama's number. I started to miss her already. I felt my hug and kisses for her  an hour ago was not enough. 

"Mama, dah nak boarding dah ni." I said softly. It took me all my strength to hold myself from breaking down in front of everybody. 

"Ok! Safe journey! Mama tengah makan roti canai ni. Nanti message naa. Bye!"

Duh.

Soon, there was a subtle lady voice on the PA system requesting all MH004 flight passengers to board the aeroplane. I almost did not want to go. But then again, there was no turning back anymore. 

Passport, checked. Boarding pass, checked. Money, checked. 

And the fucking toothbrush too, checked.

Here we go.