The suitcases were packed, the tickets booked and my visa was all in order. All that really stood between me and my vacation was an 18 hour flight to the UK and I didn’t really have to do much on that trip, just sit and watch a few movies. My first flight was from Perth to Malaysia and I eagerly awaited my boarding call in the departure lounge of Perth International. Now, most people hate air travel but I am certainly not one of those people. I love just about everything about flying, the meals are usually exciting, you can drink as much as you like, there are usually good films showing and you get to meet some genuinely interesting people.

In my case I was flying Malaysia Airways for the first time and I was unsure what to expect, remember I’ve flown Air Zimbabwe so I’ve put up with some pretty bad airline service. I was pleasantly surprised to find professional and polite service, the seats were comfortable and the entertainment was up-to-date. I did miss the complimentary toiletries pack that most airlines choose to provide, if only because I like to be able to brush my teeth whenever I arrive in a new country.

As for travelling companions I sat next to a guy my own age called Zack, a native Malaysian, and we spent the five hour trip to Malaysia geeking out over everything from Lord of the Rings to Watchmen. It’s always gratifying to meet someone you immediately get along with, especially when travelling, and it helped put me in a much more optimistic frame of mind about the rest of the trip. It was almost a bit sad when we pulled into Kuala Lumpur as we knew that our time was coming to an end but the splendour of KL airport soon put a stop to that.

Describing KL and the feelings it invoked is difficult because I was so giddy with everything I saw. Bear in mind that it was nearly midnight and everything was still open, there were cafe’s serving travel-worn customers, electronic stores selling a vast array of shiny items and bookstores doing business with an almost hushed reverence. I’ve been to a few airports in my life but I cannot remember if this was how they did business and certainly KL was the most memorable because of the friendly atmosphere.

This is why, in my defence, I believe I acted in the way I did. I took out my camera and started photographing everything in sight, eager to try and capture the atmosphere in photographic form so I could point to people and say “This is how an airport should be!” Unfortunately as friendly as KL is there are certain rules to be followed that were explained to me by the smartly dressed security guards who calmly asked me to put my camera away. After it was stowed they seemed to believe that was the end of the matter and let me go with a friendly nod. Had this been Heathrow I would have been knocked to the floor under a tidal wave of security forces before being whisked off to a detention centre where I would quite likely be executed.

Sadly almost as soon as I had arrived in KL it was time to board my next flight and begin the next leg of my journey. It was going to be my first journey on an Airbus and that elicited fresh excitement from me as I contemplated what mad luxuries I would witness. Truth be told I needn’t have gotten my hopes as far up as I did as it turned out that the Airbus merely has more seats than the Boeings. A lot more seats. I had to walk the length of the plane to get to my seat by which time a kindly old lady had settled into where I was supposed to be sitting but once the stewardess shooed her out I was able to collapse into what would be my home for the next 13 hours.

Airplane seats are oddly not built for comfort. At least they are not built to provide anything resembling comfort for any period over 5 hours. I always find that any period longer than that tends to reveal all the iron bars used in the chairs constructions. After 6 hours you are convinced that the chair in front of you goes further back than should be legal and when you attempt to mimic it you discover your chair only goes a quarter of what you think it should. 7 hours in and your legs begin to ache in an unusual way but of course the issue is that there isn’t anywhere you can really stretch them out without prompting an air hostess to follow you around with a can of mace in case you try anything dangerous. By hour 9 you are convinced that this is really the most subtle form of torture that any government could employ and you must have slighted the government in some unknown way to have earned it.

Finally the plane lands and you stand up only to discover that your legs no longer respond to the brains commands so you sort of flop out of your chair and stumble down the aisle to baggage reclaim. Eventually you recover enough to walk like a reasonable human being but there is still an unseen predator lurking outside of your awareness. Jet Lag.

But that’s probably enough for one update. I’ll put the rest of what I’ve written up in the next couple of days. Thanks for the continued support!