Going home

We got up super early this morning, after being up late drinking, and took a taxi to the airport. It turns out that the drive is much less stressful in the quiet hours of Sunday in Malaysia, compared to the terror of mid-afternoon read-a-leaflet-while-driving Bangkok airport journeys. We were at the airport in almost no time.

This gave us lots of time to walk around KLIA LCC, and to eat disgusting food at the Starbucks there, before I went to get a stand-by ticket back to Singapore. Every time I went to the ticket counter the security staff x-rayed my bag, which means it's probably the safest piece of luggage in Asia. Or it's about to develop super powers.

My stand-by seat was on a plane leaving 50 minutes before my wife's, and half an hour after I got the ticket, so I sprinted to security (where they peered at the two watches on my arm) then ran to immigration, who checked me through in 2 minutes flat - better than the indolent lump who wanted to take half an hour per person last time I was in KL - and then on to the plane.

Or rather, to the gate, and then a 400 metre yomp to the plane, but it was at least an exit row seat and I was up in the air and home to Singapore before 11, whereas my wife's flight was delayed, which meant I had even more time to sit in Quiznos and eat barbecue flavoured crisps while I waited for her.

Yeah, I know how to use my time efficiently.

Our taxi back to our flat was similarly chilled; I then spent the rest of the day sparked out on the sofa, incapable of any meaningful action. So no change there. In the evening I wrote a few more Tripadvisor reviews, and discovered that somebody in Singapore says pizza parlours are racist if the staff look at their watches. Am I missing some subtext there?