Category: Personal

A 3 10 15 20 step guide to collecting your unaccompanied baggage at Kuala Lumpur International Airport.

1. Forget airway bill, or not have it on you because you’ve just flown in from a weekend break.
2. Go to the cargo terminal at Kuala Lumpur Airport Services, conveniently next to the terminal where I landed.
3. Find out that I need to get a security pass from KLAS customer service, which is next door (one big loop round airport drive).
4. Get lost at KLAS customer service building, which is in a building attached to a medical centre that looks largely abandoned, though it has lots of signs directing you to the office. One of them sends you a little wayward with its ambiguity but otherwise not a drama.
5. Except when you find out that you need the airway bill. Call friendly cargo man at (what I think is) Cathay Pacific Cargo, who faxes airway bill to security pass office. Phew.
6. Go back to the cargo terminal, flash security pass and go to the wrong cargo bay (KLAS cargo, not MASkargo… duh).
7. Go to the Cathay Pacific Cargo office… it’s locked. Place phone call to friendly cargo man (FCM) who is confused that I should be at the Cathay Pacific Cargo office… receive directions to go to the end of the corridor, exit to an external staircase and then “can you see me waving at you?”. He’s waving frantically from yet another cargo bay about 400 metres away. Go to meet FCM.
8. FCM gives me a party pack containing customs forms and directions to get customs clearance prior to collecting my stuff. Drive to customs building about 800 metres away (but inside the terminal).
9. Directed by customs officer on ground floor of customs building to proceed to “IDE office” at level 3 to get customs clearance from someone at an operation called Dagang.Net.
10. Directed by lady at Dagang.Net to the Free Commercial Zone (FCZ) office  across the hall for further clearance of some sort. Pay MYR5 in FCZ fees.
11. Take receipt back to Dagang.Net and fill out a customs declaration form. Friendly lady behind counter accepts form and then appears to write an epic novel on her rattly keyboard. When satisfied with her final draft, she collects MYR 22.25 for customs clearance.
12. Take growing pile of forms and receipts back to level 1, where customs man stamps my forms (and the Dagang.Net lady’s epic novel) and asks me to collect my goods, do some sort of “100% check” across the street and come back.
13. Back to FCM at KLAS cargo bay. Directs me to a cashier two bays down to pay for security fees and fuel surcharges… MYR40.
14. Back to FCM to present receipt. FCM issues another form to show to the security guard at the cargo bay door.
15. Security guard gives form to manic forklift driver (they’re all manic here) who retrieves goods and brings them back (nearly 90 minutes in and this is the first I’ve seen of them). Sign security guard’s form.
16. Load stuff into car and take it to “100% check” across the road from the customs building. Open one of the boxes to show goods to customs man and explain that all of the 3 boxes are identical. He ponders this thought and then signs the form. Doesn’t this make it a “33.3% check”? Not complaining, just sayin’…
17. Go back to customs building, ground floor, to present evidence of “whatever % check”. Man signs form and gives me back a copy so I can slip it in with what is now basically War and Peace. Customs man smiles and cheerily announces “All complete!”. Nearly.
18. Exit customs building… security guards smile and remind me to return my security pass. Also one of them points out that I’m about to lose my pass (it’s dangling off my jeans). While correcting this, I notice a sign conveying a stern warning that short pants and slippers of any sort are not allowed in government buildings.
19. Final big loop around airport drive to return security pass next door.
20. Go home and hope that the niece likes her new play pen.

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One of the inherent risks of living in a former haberdashery:

To the wonderful people who compile the OED, I present a new definition of stupid:

stupid n. [stoo-pid, styoo–]  Dove World Outreach Center

In a blog post entitled Ten Reasons to Burn a Koran, Fran Ingham outlines a bunch of ideas that tries to justify why, on September 11, everyone should burn a Qur’an. I’m not sure what positive outcome this bunch of lunatics hopes to achieve, but a comment on the blog kind of sums up what I think:

… You are angry about something you are afraid of and I am angry with your stupidity.  But do us all a favor; go get a glass, fill it with a handful of ice cubes (they are in the refrigerator on your back-porch) and pour yourselves a nice tall glass of “shut the fuck up”.  You are going to get people killed with your hateful acts scheduled for 9/11.

Fran’s interpretation of the Bible and of history is dangerous, ignorant and… stupid. I really, really cannot fathom how anyone can come to the conclusion that a problem can be solved by burning a book that is holy to a quarter of the world’s population. Sigh.

Romantic legend has a habit of introducing dramatic effect by having a hero or heroine die of a broken heart.  It happens so often that it somewhat becomes the default cause of death in tales of yore. It’s easy to scoff dismissively… I wager that a modern death certificate with “broken heart” listed as the cause of death would raise a few eyebrows… and – considering the age in which we live – a few lawsuits.

But can you really die from a broken heart? I haven’t looked into this exhaustively, but I do believe that heartbreak is a killer – a painful, painful killer. The Associated Press filed a 1999 report in which an elephant named Damini allegedly did such a thing out of grief, having lost a younger companion. Elizabeth I, after living through a slew of deaths amongst close friends, supposedly died from anguish. I make the distinction here between types like Ophelia and Dido, who ended their own lives as a result of love lost. This is something more sinister and delicate, not prone to rational discretion. Worst of all, it is silent.

If it were one day found that the will to live is driven by the subconscious – the thing that keeps us alive without us knowing it – then we might well have a case for death by broken heart. It is not likely that we will ever directly discern such a link, because the subconscious is (by definition) beyond our perception. Having said that, research at the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine has suggested that a broken heart may manifest itself in a condition known as stress cardiomyopathy, a strain on the heart brought on by psychological trauma of some sort.

Whatever the cause, and whatever the effect, if you know of anyone whose eyes have lost their sparkle, or their step has lost its bounce, and you know of a trauma in their life that would shake anyone but the most hardened battler, do everything you can to show them that you care. From the heart.

I came across this comment on the website of the Australian Christian Lobby, after an article outlining the feelings of the ACL on the federal leadership change:

June 25, 2010 at 6:04 am
It is almost time for work, and yet I have spent so much of the time I normally spend in silent prayer totally engrossed in the stories and comments on this blog.

I must prepare myself for the day, but I must also share this last piece of my mind.

Many more posts have appeared here, and I note with some astonishment that it is suggested that there is a homosexual in the Australian Parliament.

I have noted with satisfaction how these deviants have been recently driven from their positions of power in state government.

In my youth we had another name for these perverts, and although I don’t go in for bashings any more, I am proud to say that I have taught my sons to treat them with the disrespect that they deserve.

Yours in Christ
Bob

Before signing off in Christ’s name, Bob should actually read Christ’s teachings.