There Is No Way?

And he missed his flight.  It happens.  I had time but got caught up with one dumb thing or another checking out in a long line, waiting for a cab in a queue and by the time I was en route to an airport I don’t usually head to, I realized I wasn’t going to make it.  I made a halfhearted attempt to plea for flexibility with the gal at JetStar Air, but Singapore is a lot more like Japan than China in that regard.  “It’s only five minutes since the door closed.  You sure there is no way?”  No dice.  There was a Singapore Air flight that was the next flight leaving for about $600.00.  But there was also a flight by “Lion Air” that was immediately after it.  The price was not posted.  

I took the airport train over to Terminal Two and walked out, considering the metallic panels up in the ceiling and the vines on the second floor walls.  Are they real or are they plastic?  It’s Singapore, they’re probably real. Lion Air’s counter was Terminal One, which meant I’d need to ask down the other length of the hall.  Trodding on to the end, I noticed a gent behind the counter in question.  He shuffled around behind the Lion Air ticket counter and then moved off.  Arriving I asked another gent who told me the office would open shortly.  I notice a sign that said they would open at 9:00AM.  My phone told me it was 8:55AM.  “Can you just tell me the cost of this ticket?”  “Just a minute sir. “

The guy with the hoodie shuffled back.  He was my man for tickets.  “Can you tell me how much the flight to Jakarta would be?”  I only caught the end of what he said, and I asked him to repeat it.  Really?  Eighty-three Sing dollars, so something like seventy dollars US?  Cool.  I’ll take one.  I began to consider vague, irksome memories of regional budget carriers that fell from the sky.  I wondered about my safety.  

Two hours on, I got here all right.  Now I’m in traffic in Jakarta.  First time here.  It would appear that they have a strong chance to defeat China for the gold medal in unendurable traffic.  I am on the equivalent of our beloved Airport Expressway back home.  It’s a parking lot.  Trucks seem smaller.  They’d have to be to navigate this traffic.  They have a similar attempt to beautify their airport highway with horticulture, but it is certainly less successful than what’s is achieved on the airport highway in Singapore.  I am at the far-flung extreme of the Muslim world.  Many but not a majority of women are wearing headscarves.  I haven’t seen a mosque yet, nor heard a call to prayer, though presumably I will. 

Listening to Bahasa it is rather indecipherable.  It feels humorous.  This must be how Chinese sounds to neophytes.  This must be what English sounds like to someone else, for the first time.  I must inquire as to how to render “please” and “thank you” before I get much further.  Each time my driver speaks to his phone I listen, trying to discern what he's saying.