Metro to Petronas
Those who know me well know of my fear of using mass transit. There is so much that can go wrong – wrong train, wrong direction, pickpockets, pimps, crowds. I’m a taxi kinda guy. But there was the Metro station in the basement of my hotel, allegedly convenient. What possessed me to try it?
“I’d like a ticket to the Petronas Towers. Which stop?”
“The ticket counter one floor down.”
“A ticket to Petronas Towers?”
“Across the hallway.” I could hear a taxi hailing me.
“Petronas Towers. Which stop?”
“The KLCC stop.” Pay dirt. I pulled out my wallet. She continued, “You must use the ticket machine over there.”
I became very afraid. I remember using a Ride Line ticket machine in Chicago, trying to get to a Cubs game. The first machine was out of tickets. It took my money. I was so flustered at the second machine, a ten-year-old girl had to help me. Shaking off the bad vibes, I moved slowly to the bright yellow machine, like a man toward a firing squad. I swiped my credit card after pushing a button for KLCC. My fare was only 1.60 Ringgits, so I was instructed that only coins were accepted. I had no coins. But a $.50 ride vs. a $10 taxi sent me shuffling off for change.
A Starbucks put a lift in my spirits and a jingle in my pocket. Back at the yellow menace, I pushed buttons and inserted coins over and over, until all of them were finally accepted. Wait. Wait…. Finally a plastic token dropped into a tray. I grabbed it and moved quickly, in case the machine changed its mind. Then turnstiles. I remember getting stuck in one of those with my suitcase on the Paris Metro. I placed the token in a printed circle on the turnstile, as everyone else was doing. It opened. No way.
Checking my pockets for my passport and cash, for surely my luck was about to go south, I followed the crowd up the stairs to the train platform. There was a legend for the stops, and I saw I was about to get on a train going the wrong direction. Back down the stairs, and up another set on the other side of the platform, and I watched the train pull away. Sigh. Sipped my coffee for fifteen minutes until the next arrived. It was crowded but I was committed at this point. I grabbed a pole as the train pulled away. The legend showed that I had only four stops. I clutched my passport and told myself to enjoy my coffee. Soon I would be in glitzy downtown Kuala Lumpur. A voice came over the intercom and made an announcement in Malay, then in English, “Please be advised that food and drink are absolutely prohibited on the train.” A dozen set of eyes fixed on my Starbucks.
I successfully returned from my lunch and walk around the city, using the Metro again. I was able to negotiate the ticket buying process in well under a half hour on the return trip. I’m so full of myself right now, I may take the train to the airport tomorrow. Look at me, will you!
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