WRITING PROMPT RESPONSE

The Costly Mistake that Led Me into the Arms of Kuala Lumpur

When embarrassing mistakes lead to #unplannedadventures, just go with it

It was a warm and tropical December day in 2014, my feet busy shuffling around the land of the Khmer. I was nearing the end of another idyllic year abroad — teaching and traveling through Southeast Asia. I had spent seven scenic days scouring the countryside on a motorbike, leaving the developing pit of Phnom Penh for greener pastures down south, looping around to Sihanoukville for some lazy days on the beach and in the mountains. Life was effortlessly good.

I had a flight booked to return to Canada to spend the holiday season with my parents — a year away had implored my mother to demand that I return home for a few weeks. And a good son always listens to his mother. The flight scheduled to depart from Kuala Lumpur on the December 13 at 12:36 a.m., was shuttling me halfway across the world on a series of connections and layovers that would last somewhere between two days and eternity — closer to two days. I had purchased the ticket fare through a third-party online booking site that organized all the connections for me — all under one booking fee. All I had to do was show up at the airport and board the damn plane. Anyways I digress.

In Cambodia, I had spent the last two days of my adventure scurrying across the ancient ruins of Angkor Wat, immersing in the steep history and culture of Siem Reap. On the December 13, (cutting it close, stupidity in the air), I had booked a morning flight to Kuala Lumpur, giving me plenty of layover time in case of delays. But I was confident. When I reached the adorably quaint International Airport in Siem Reap, I was relieved to see that my flight to KL was scheduled to depart on time. A few hours in the air, a half-day layover in the International Airport in Kuala Lumpur, and I would be on my way back to Canada.

Chaos in Cambodia

I checked in to my flight, took a seat in one of the outdoor waiting pods, and logged into the airport wifi to message home with news that I was on my way. I had music in my ears and the warm air of tropical adventure still clinging to the clothes on my body. Then I opened the email tab, and in a split second, my world came crashing down.

Change to Your Trip Dear Customer, We have received notification from your airline that your reservation has been changed according to your request, or has been canceled due to day-of-travel flight cancellation or traveler no-show. “Excuse me, what???!!”

It took moments of confusion, frantic spinning, and panic before reality set in. I had missed my flight. In my droopy, lethargically infused backpacker head, I had confused the a.m./p.m. segment of my flight and assumed that 12:36 a.m. was referring to the night of the December 13, not the early morning. The first segment of my four flight connection from Kuala Lumpur to Canada had already departed that morning while I was whimsically floating in space in the blissful heat of Cambodia. I had missed my flight home.

As I furiously shuffled through email after email, checking dates and consolidating the tragic truth, the soft ring of the airport voiceover came on, and the lovely voice of a polite woman called my flight to the gate for boarding. “Really, you expect me to fly now?” I was cascading off into delirium, panicked by the reality of the situation, unclear as to how I could have allowed such futile amateurishness to come into my life. And I had to endure flying with the rueful festering bubbling in my mind for the following three hours. In the heat and panic of that moment, I couldn’t even muster the time to call home. I solemnly paced into the aircraft feeling the warm heat fade to the humming of the in-flight air conditioning units, sweat dripping furiously from the corners of my forehead as I tried to ascertain my cool. I sat, threw my head against the window, and cried out menacingly, “You idiot!”

Decisions in Kuala Lumpur

Stepping out of the plane in Malaysia, the heat greeted me with a muggier and damper feel, throttling my lapsed energy even more. I spent the day furiously calling helplines while waiting for the China Eastern customer service boot to open. With endless pleas for sympathy, there would be no mercy for my situation. My ticket was gone, my flight connections departed, and the only hope of making it home for the holidays was by purchasing a new set of flights.

I spent the night huddled in a dark corner of the airport, dumbfounded by the situation and unsure what to do next. After much lingering and several disheartened calls home, my parents opted to subsidize me buying a new ticket to Canada. Amid the wave of emotions that flustered my composure that day, the only thing I wanted was to be home. And with some deliberation and careful research, I found a cheap ticket back on the December 17.

I told myself that money was nothing, that family was everything, and that mistakes happen. Learning from egregious mishaps was crucial; moving on from hardship was what led to breakthroughs and progress. As I considered all of this in the quiet corner of the empty check-in counter, halfway through the middle of the hot Malaysian night, it clicked: an unplanned adventure was hot on the horizon. I had three scintillating days to explore a new city, a new slice of land. My ears perked up as though they had been blinded by the furry of the day. The notion of adventure had lapsed through the trauma, overtaken by the staggering desire to be home. With a secured flight home and my bearings returned closer to normal, I begin longing for the following three days in this new country. I was back on my wandering feet, repositioned to explore.

An unplanned adventure in the city

I woke to the rustle of noise in the departure hall as the early sun stretched itself through the transparent glass of the airport and straightened my twisted neck and back from hours of sleeping in a seated position. I found my way to the bus stand and jumped on the first transit to the city. The air of sporadic travel roused my spirit into action, overpowering hunger and fatigue. The hour-long ride to KL Sentral left me introspectively pondering the ridiculous circumstances that had shuttled me to the city. “ Did I deserve to feel good after the embarrassing mistakes of the previous days? “ Once I reached the busy city transport hub, I beelined to the nearest exit and took to the street to explore on foot this large Asian metropolis.

I would spend the better part of the following three days shuffling around on foot, scampering around neighborhoods, and feasting off of the sights, sounds, and smells of the hustle. Kuala Lumpur is a big city — the metro area nearly 8 million and growing — but manageable by foot. Despite holding onto a heavy backpack weighted down by a week’s worth of dirty clothing, I was able to meander across the city, from KL Sentral to the Central Market, and down toward Bukit Bintang, where I found a cheap hostel for the stay. It was in this hip and happening urban district where I spent a lot of my time, weaving in and out of shops and alleyways and watching the multiculturalism that marched its busy streets while I sat sipping on Tiger beer. The city’s main attraction was its vibrant character and people, which I was happy to observe for the better of my three days. The Petronas Towers came a crawling second, its dazzling twin frames shimmering the gloom of the night from any corner of the city.

I ate often. Malaysia is a country that burns with pride over its food; it is holy and spiritual, and my desire to be a respectful guest in the city forced me to try it all. The culinary highlight came at Jalan Alor, a famed back alley outdoor eating extravaganza; a street lined with tables and chairs and sellers that serve food of any variety from adjacent stalls and kitchens. The busy corridor has constant foot traffic from tourists and locals perusing the area for food and entertainment, making it a perfect spot to sit and people watch. Petaling Street was similarly busy and happening, an open-air market in the Chinatown district selling goods, and more food, to anyone from anywhere.

Needless to say, I was happy and content in my surroundings.

On one of the mornings, I left the city by train to pilgrimage to Batu Caves, a tourist spot only 40 minutes away and climbed the steep stairs leading into the limestone caves that housed a Hindu shrine. The morning trip was a nice break from the bustle of the city, but within hours, I could feel its pull drawing me back; its sounds and smells had embedded their way into me.

Over the three ravenous days in Kuala Lumpur, I pedantically checked the timings of my flights back home to Canada. I could not afford to miss another one — economically and emotionally. On the December 17, I took the earliest bus to the airport and reached with six hours to spare, frenetically glancing back between my watch and the time displayed on my electronic ticket. When I finally boarded the first of four flights to my final destination, I looked out the window with a sincere appreciation for the city that lay sprawled out below, as well as the circumstances that had allowed me this time to explore.

A year later — some silver linings

A year later, I returned to Malaysia, this time on the island of Borneo, to work. It’s impossible to know with certainty whether the influence of those three days had anything to do with the gravitational pull that landed me a job in that country. But I’d like to think that it did; three days in Kuala Lumpur had stamped upon me a vivid impression of a country that was open and diverse, with people that appeared friendly and humble and poised for a future driven by technology and globalization.

And all of it happened at the hands of a stupid, costly mistake. Life is funny that way. All we can do is laugh away the hardships while capitalizing on the blessed fortunes that arise at the moment — keeping our discerning eyes open for adventure at any conceivable corner.

#unplannedadventures