ISLAMABAD, PAKISTAN Apr 3, 2012 – The first few mental notes to this light hearted article were jotted while finally seated in the departure lounge of the Benazir Bhutto International Airport in Islamabad. Partly amusing and partly annoying, but for a good cause since we were heading home to Malaysia after a two-week sojourn in Pakistan.

Capital city Islamabad of Pakistan is large with well-planned uptowns, downtowns and suburbs. Her major roads are wide and well-maintained compared to the other cities. Even so, getting to the airport could pose a bit of a challenge as warned by an acquaintance there, “get there early. Nothing in Pakistan is predictable”. Sure enough, it took us over an hour to reach the short 20km drive from city centre in a hired car. No thanks to a certain VIP politician whose arrival at the airport caused a massive jam because of road blocks. And just our luck too that our departure coincided with a planeload of umrah-bound passengers.

We were the tail-end of this long queue when a scowling, whistle-blowing, uniformed airport official chased away the sending-off parties who were clogging up the entrance to the first lobby checkpoint. He caught my eye the first time and shoo-shooed the non-passengers away from the entrance foyer. On his second dutiful rendezvous he came over and asked where I was going. “Malaysia”. Oh, so he’s not Pakistani (my huge nose may have confused him,) he must have thought, and he beckoned me over to cut the queue! Wow! I’ve never gotten VIP treatment all my life so we zipped our trolley bypassing the noisy crowd of would-be passengers.

He transferred our luggage under the handrail and deftly pushed our now empty trolley underneath the railing over to the other side and beckoned all three of us to cross under this railing, beating the long queue. What a pleasure, and we must have made 100 other noisy and unruly passengers who were all talking at the same time very unhappy. Or so we thought. He helped push the trolley to the front door where the airport security would normally verify your tickets and passports. Beads of perspiration were forming on our foreheads as we later noticed that the air-conditioner wasn’t working in these parts of the capital’s airport. That “helpful guy” had a word with our guide Dr Adnan Khan, then stood beside me and said in broken English, “is okay?” Being hypnotised with good Visit Malaysia Campaigns all these years, I nonchalantly smiled and replied, “yes, all okay”. With that he disappeared.

Moments later Dr Adnan was looking for him to expedite the door check but he vanished into the massive crowd. Apparently he had asked for Rp100 to beat the queue and another Rp100 to get past this ticket check. Feeling a little behind time and to beat the sweltering body heat, Adnan paid him without my knowledge. Things like this are normal in Pakistan – you pay your way through many things. His “okay” with me earlier on was meant to indicate that it was okay for him to vamoose and for us to fend for ourselves at this constipated gateway. I was the fool. Not him. He’s Rp200 richer in just 10 minutes.

Another 15 minutes wait ensued because customarily foreigners have to wait in this country until the airport security personnel feels like you’ve suffered enough. The airplane-bound passengers were unbelievably pushing one another and jostling to get in, like into a cinema for a certain Urdhu blockbuster.

In Pakistan, everyone gives salaam but no one gets a reply. Your Assalaamualaikum will get you back the same. No one replies alaikumsalam to you. But when this salaam was audibly given to the security guard, he went silent. Perhaps annoyed with the unruly crowd but I thought more so because the heat was getting unbearable.

Once inside, there was still no air-conditioning . The room was beginning to feel like a sauna getting warmed up. An international airport? There was another long queue here where this time two police personnel checked again what was checked earlier on at the main door just five metres away. They relish in checking. To kill time, my reporter eyes wandered and saw a huge Labrador lying down and leashed to a railing on my left. A healthy mutt but I could understand her frustrations after what we went through. She must have felt distrusted by the airport police.

The second layer of this security vetting was to gauge whether you were carrying drugs in your luggage. Dr Adnan showed the man three of our passports, and he asked who these strangers were and got an explanation. But being better than the dog, this smart guard pointed us to the “Narcotics Inspection” counter where our bags would be searched. All these while the poor Labrador looked disinterested, sullen and homesick. She would have sniffed cocaine, crack or marijuana a mile away but no, the guard is always better than the dog. To make people suffer through more checks would mean you’re doing a real fine job. Give the dog a biscuit.

The Narcotics chap looked educated, smiled as he spoke to Adnan who asked him in Urdhu, “which of these bags you prefer to check?” He exchanged some niceties and we were off to the scanner section. Remember, we have not gotten our boarding passes yet. Islamabad Airport looked like it doesn’t have enough personnel. What a danger because at this conveyor scanner is where you bare all your contents and go through a body search. There was no safety net if someone else at the conveyor end decides to steal your passport, wallet, mobile phone or laptop. They do not have personnel who would stop pilferage.

Quick to notice this shortcoming, I did not unload my wallet and mobile phone. And surprisingly while frisking me, the guard asked what’s that bulge in my pocket. I showed him my wallet and off I went. Don’t try this at Bangkok Airport. They’d probably shoot you first and then ask what’s that bulge. If you’re still alive.

After this came the Immigration Counter. They would not guide you but if you were a woman you’re expected to know which row to line up at. Too bad if you have to do it all over again at the tail-end. My accomplice who was queuing up obediently Malaysian style was overtaken by four aggressive-looking Pakistani women taller than she whom she dared not pick a fight with. They never queue up in Pakistan and no remorse about it. Immigration was pretty swift. After that, you feel like you’re back with civilisation because you suddenly see the familiar counters of airline companies where we got our boarding passes. But we were not done.

From there, we were asked to enter another door that led to the passengers’ waiting lounge. But before you can escape to paradise, another security check. Now that the large bags were safely checked-in, what’s that you’re carrying with you? If you do not look them in the eyes, they’d stop and rummage through you backpacks. If you look like a timid old man like me, it would remind him of his father and stopped short of giving you a kiss but not before making sure a certain Thai Airways tag with your name on it is already attached to your hand luggage. No tag could mean you’re in cahoots with al Qaeda. And this tag he has to stamp it for you.

After an arduous hour inside the terminal, we were finally allowed to sit in the lounge area together with hundreds of intending pilgrims, some of whom were excruciatingly tying up their umrah robes for the first time. Still no air-cond and very thirsty. Dr Adnan ordered and paid for the drinks, warning me that the price would be higher if I were to pay by myself. There wasn’t much to see or shop while waiting so I bought a box of coated peanuts that we had together over the drinks. The lounge was jammed packed and there were only seven toilet cubicles with a long queue of anxious patrons.

After over an hour, our flight was calling. Phew! We made a beeline to the door as did the umrah planeload. Not being a frequent flyer, this could be the first time that I saw one door opened for two different flights. At the basement where the buses waited, the two flights were scuttled out from different doors again. You must know which door is yours or you will end up in Jeddah instead.

All were in Urdhu but I couldn’t understand why Dr Adnan suddenly doubled back up to where we came from in lightning speed. Dr Suraiya and this reporter showed our boarding passes and passports yet again and were asked to step into a bus. We stood outside instead waiting for Adnan. He was back in three minutes and explained that the box of coated peanuts, bought while in the passenger lounge, requires a Thai Airways security tag and stamped by security! I said it would not have been the case if the peanuts were kept inside our backpacks. Strange musings but that’s other people’s country and customs alien perhaps to travelers from Malaysia who are so used to the easy way of life.

Having to travel via Thai International is another ordeal by itself, especially for the long transit hours forcing you to shop till you drop and the “empty everything” security check policy. Upon transit at the Bangkok International Suvarnabhumi Airport, whether or not you’re changing aircrafts, you must disembark and go through its forced security vetting. Whilst traversing over the half kilometre to the transit lounge, do not buy any liquid type toiletries such as toothpaste, lotion, bodywash or shampoo. Chances are these are recycled items that the security confiscates by the tonnes from passengers daily.

Liquids of any type in excess of 70ml would belong to the airport (next time let’s check out the airport’s staff cooperative shop). This reporter saw huge loads of such toiletries, mostly new, being hauled away in bins. This could explain the nice teeth, lush hair and lashes, fragrant attire and milky smooth complexion of the security ladies in-charge. I survived through this with my toothpaste tube almost depleted and my mouthwash in a sealed ziplock bag. Dr Adnan’s jar of wild honey bought in Islamabad must have landed on some Thai’s breakfast table somewhere by now.

And if you’ve just lost a kilogramme or two while abroad, be careful. They want to scan your belts too in case you were hiding some detonators. You may just as well drop your pants and bare all while putting up both hands in the air for the whole body scanning process to take place. Tough luck, but that’s Bangkok Airport where common sense takes a back seat.

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Bro. Y recently in Pakistan

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