New Zealand - Day One (7/12/11)

It was the final day of SPM.

I fidgeted throughout the entire exam, feeling unsettled, excited, and anxious at the same time. For one, I had no idea what the ancient Mandarin scripts in front of me were about ; and for another, I knew my bags were back home in my room - unpacked and half-empty.

It hadn't been my fault, of course. The exams had taken up too much of my time. Of course, it also had been me who wanted to join in the excursion to New Zealand as soon as I was done with SPM here, so I didn't complain.

As soon as SPM ended, I rushed back home instead of staying back for the victory celebrations.

Thanks to the fact that I was quite a seasoned traveller, I could hastily shove everything into my bag without making a long, lengthy list.

I glanced at my watch. There was around an hour left. Damn. And the worst thing was, at that current moment, I found out that my earphones for my music player had spoilt (It worked fine the day before that, I swear.) and my new Olympus E-PL2 camera had a faulty memory card. Goodness, I wanted to scream bloody murder.

I would have preferred travelling with MAS instead of AirAsia, but AirAsia fares were much cheaper. Another downside was that we would depart from LCCT, and not from KLIA. The LCCT really lived up to its Low-Cost-Carrier-Terminal name - by having little to zero system. While KLIA exuded a classy charm, LCCT carried an exuberant pasar malam vibe to it. I practically had to squeeze past the mass of people, lugging a huge bag along.

There was a lady with a baby directly on the seat in front of me.

Said baby cried in random intervals throughout the night flight.

My parents were quite understanding, and I tried to be as well. After all, flying long flights were uncomfortable businesses that took time getting used to. I remember having nosebleeds while flying whenever I was younger due to the dry air on board - and that had been really messy. This young baby couldn't speak, and therefore could only cry whenever he felt hungry, thirsty, or merely irritated. The mother was frantic, and my mother ended up helping her out.

Basically, the entire night was full of wailing. I couldn't sleep, and the hard seats on the flight were not in the least bit comfy. My back and neck ached, (one of the side effects of having scoliosis I suppose) and I felt like just twisting the cabin doors nearby so that I could make a memorable exit by skydiving.

Not that I would really have the courage to carry that out, of course.

The hours dragged by, painful and torturous. The next meal served was a few hours before landing - 11am New Zealand time, and 6am Malaysian time. I looked at the oily meal in front of me and suppressed the urge to throw up. I never was one to eat anything for breakfasts, and the time difference, while not as large as being in Europe, was enough to make me dread the fatigue that would be arriving very, very soon.

I sighed, and left the meal untouched.

All I wanted was some solid land to step onto.