Killing time

Over the years writing this I’ve sat in airport lounges all over the world and tapped away while waiting for my flight to be called. It’s a good a way as any to kill the dead hours in that indeterminate zone between here and there. I’m doing it again now.

This time I’m sitting in Kuala Lumpur’s KLIA airport. Specifically I’m sitting in a small bar called Bones near the departure gates. There’s a Tiger beer in front of me, almost done, and I can hear in the background a replay of the Confederations Cup match between Japan and Mexico. Every so often a PA announcement will disturb the airport white noise to call for Mr so and so to report to the counter, or to announce the boarding of flight number at gate whatsit. No need for me to pay much attention – my flight is hours away.

The whole day really has been about killing time. My flight is just before midnight, but I had to check out before noon. I only had 4 hours sleep after a festive wedding reception, and feared that the lack of much sleep, a day wandering like the apocryphal Jew, followed by a 13 hour flight in a crowded plane, would pretty much do me in. Well, I’ve to set foot on the plane, but I’m doing ok.

I packed and checked out and was picked up by E from my hotel. We caught up with all the news and gossip over a breakfast for lunch in a French patisserie in Bangsar. That was good. With bags in tow she then dropped me at KL Sentral where I was able to check in my luggage for this evening’s flight. Very fortunate.

I caught a cab to Mid Valley then having decided to kill time watching a movie. World War Z was my first choice, but that was booked out. I settled on watching After Earth in the Gold class cinema. Was ok, and 90 minutes were used up.

With Malaysian ringgit to be spent I found a curious place on the top-level of the Gardens. What the fuck. I spent 40 minutes and 60 RM lying on warm tiles in a room heated to the mid 40 degrees C.  I sweated, as was the notion, ridding myself, as the notion goes, of the various toxins in the bod. It’s not my idea of a fun time, but it seemed to do me the world of good. Probably a good thing too after the quantity of toxic liquids I consumed last night. Better out than in.

That was good enough for me. It was near 5 and time, I thought, to head back to KL Sentral and catch the KLIA Express. It’s a great train that takes you to the distant airport in a hurry, and in relative comfort. It’s something we might have in Melbourne if our politicians weren’t such provincials.

I’ve been hear at the airport since a little after 6pm. I’ll have my beer, or two, grab myself a meal, might browse the duty-free, before using my final ringgit on chocalates, as tradition demands. Tomorrow, London.

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