I waited restlessly in the dim waiting room of Soekarno Hatta Airport. The place was cramped but I managed to get a not-so-dark spot to read a book. From time to time I heard sounds which I couldn't identify where and what it was. It sort sounded like a whistle, and then like a long cry, and then like a howl, and then like someone practicing vocal. I thought it was a horror movie. I said to myself, "Really, crazy airport management. Dim room and horror movie for entertainment just before people are about to fly??"
Some people sitting across me said to one another, "What sound is that?"
I looked around to find where the TV screen was. Nowhere. Oh, maybe it's inside the office, I thought. No wonder no one cared to update the flight schedule on the screen. Everyone is watching a horror movie. But what a weird movie! No music at all. No conversation. Just howls and howls after another.
When at last was time to board into the plane, I noticed a young man, big and tall, whistling endlessly. Obviously, he was retarded. I whispered to Wiwik,
"Oh, so it is this man! I had been wondering what the sound was."
"Me, too!" Wiwik replied.
Suddenly it occurred to me that standing in line together with this young man means that I'm going to fly on the same plane with him. Oh, no! This is actually bedtime already! I was just dreaming of dreaming on the plane until we touch down on LCCT.
"It looks like so," Wiwik confirmed. Oh, no!
"Hopefully my seat won't be too close to him," I said.
Wiwik's seat was a bit in the middle while I and that young man kept on walking further. For sure, Wiwik's not going to sit close to him. "Lucky you!" I said to Wiwik.
Guess what! This young man's seat was 20A and mine was 24A. Only 4 seats right straight behind him. I started to giggle myself. I tried to look at it from the funny side.
When I finally really did, a stewardess approached me. Next to her was a man with 2 boys. "Would you mine to move to the front so the 3 of them can sit in 1 row?"
"Move? Is the seat over there by the window?"
The stewardess answered, "No, it isn't. But after everybody has been seated, I'll try to look for a seat by the window for you."
"Are you sure?"
"I'll try to. I think I can get it. Please?"
I unfastened my seat belt and gave a distinguish reluctant look.
"Maaf ya," said the man which meant "I'm sorry."
I didn't respond.
"Thank you so much," said the stewardess again.
I didn't respond.
I passed by Wiwik's seat. "Hey, I've been moved!" I grunted.
The seat the stewardess ushered me to was number 5C. "Wait a moment," she said and left.
Then came a voice inside me, "Hey, you really don't know how to be grateful, do you? What's the use of a window in such dark. You won't see anything anyway. But, you would still be able to hear -- clear enough -- that weird whistle howl. How do you think you could have changed the situation better? I've helped you moved away in a way you would never imagine, but now you are grumbling."
Not long after, the stewardess came to me again. "I've got a seat by the window for you." She pointed towards the backside.
"No, it's alright. I like it here," I said.
"Oh, please..." Her look was as if saying, "Please don't be mad."
I held her arm. "It's alright. Really."
"Really?" she asked. She looked very sincere and I felt worse for grunting over her effort of making her passengers feel comfortable.
I squeezed her arm. "Really."
"Okay then. Thank you so much."
"No problem."
Very vaguely I could hear that weird whistle howl. Being separated 15 seats away really made a difference. Soon I fell asleep almost all through the way. In LCCT Wiwik told me that when the plane was just about to take off, that man gave a long wail. I didn't notice that at all.
All counters in the immigration room at LCCT were busy. Counters for foreigners and counters for Malaysians, all the same. Obviously, other flights had just touched down also. Suddenly I heard that weird whistle howl again. People started to gaze around with a puzzled look. I spotted out the retarded guy. Another young man wearing the same T-Shirt as him, the one who sat next to him on the plane, put his arm around this retarded guy's shoulder.
Behind the immigration desks were several "watch box". Well, I don't know how you call this. It's like a ticket box, but it's not for buying tickets. This "watch box" was place on a stage, almost twice higher than the immigration counters. When the weird whistle howl was heard again, an officer sticked out his head from his window. He looked down left and right, right and left.
Several days later when I was already in Vietnam, I told this story to Mom through the phone. She laughed and laughed. "If we had been together, we probably wouldn't be able to stop laughing."
"Sure!" I replied. "I imagined if you were next to me, we would have laughed and laughed all the way."
Mom's respond totally changed when I said,
"Although this is funny to us, I think his mother's heart must have been crushed. How would she feel? Who would want their child to be a laughing stock?"
"Especially when it's a son," Mom replied.
We went silent for seconds.
"Let's talk about something happy, shall we?" Mom continued. "How about your trip?"
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Friends, we surely must have more than one reason to be grateful for.
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