I bid the ladies farewell by the airport departure gate as a customary sign off from my Breakout duty before heading off to the city centre via Rapid Penang to kick start my weekend solo getaway. I reach Kikky Youth Hostel, a cheaper alternative to Garden Springs Resort and Spa with an expectation of that it could provide an acceptable service as I'm blinded by Garden Springs's finest hospitality that sets a high benchmark to my preferred standard.

The hostel is on the upper floor within rows of antiquated shop houses, giving a nostalgic sentiment that I'm about to be lured into a post-war era, leaving any modernisation behind. But as I enter into its premise, my initial impression is distorted by its run-down establishment with creaking rotted stairway, decayed timber floors and musty smell of old fabrics. Not only the shabby interior doesn't describe vintage at its best as per the website's claim, but it also somehow mimics an old brothel house during the Japanese occupation.

Two local men in their 50s greet me from behind the counter as I reach the upper landing of the staircase. They take my particulars for the check in while I observe its poorly maintained small reception room, noting the blundering connection between the reception and other spaces within this floor like a chaotic labyrinth.

Once I made the payment, I'm ushered by one of them to a dimmed corridor where my room awaits me at the end. As we walk further down the corridor, my head shrouds with much dubiety. I'm torn in between risking my safety for a night's stay at a desolate place like this, and the desire to take the first bus back to KL tonight. I doubt I'd get a refund for cancelling last minute, but is it worth not to?

As he unlocks the door to my room and lets me in, I'm appalled by the sight of a windowless mix-gender bunk room with another male guest occupying the lower bunk. It has got me screaming in my head that I'm putting my safety at stake. Then, I decide to pivot out of the room and march back to the reception.

I'm still shaken by the condition of the rape-prone lodgement even after I've escaped myself from it and run into a public area where I find safe. I dig into my crossbody satchel before successfully fishing out my Galaxy J7 phone and book a Grab ride to Penang Sentral.

I'm already halfway reaching the bus terminal, settling myself at the backseat of the Grab ride when I receive a text from Saint asking, 'Still up for rojak tonight?'

Feeling knackered to respond but acknowledge its urgency, I tiredly tap the message panel and type back, 'Sorry, can't. I'm heading back to KL'.

'WHAT HAPPENED?' his text blaring at me like Harry Potter's Howler, just as I anticipated.

I'm about to compose an appropriate explanation to him when the phone rings with his caller ID on the screen, demands me to pick it up.

"You type slow!" he shouts from the other line. "What the fuck has happened?!"

"Let's just say the hostel is not female friendly and seems dubious as per your intuition," I muster an answer.

"I thought you already did your homework and had it well planned," he says angrily.

"I did but I kinda messed up a bit," I drawl. "Don't worry, I'm heading for Penang Sentral and I'm getting the earliest bus home. But if I can't find one, I'll stay overnight at the airport and take my scheduled flight home."

"Stay where you are, I'll pick you up."

"But what about Anita?"

"Just shut up and stay there!" he barks and ends the call.

I heave a weary sigh, clutching my phone tightly in my palm and try to clear off any clutter in my mind from the rising motion sickness. I look out at the hurtling view of areca palms, large trees, and street lamps outside the tinted window screen of the car, then hovering my eyes further towards the horizon beyond, where its layer moves in slower motion. When the car cruises into Penang Bridge, my muscles gradually relax, and my queasiness subsides as I drowse away into a quick nap.

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Photo source - Alec Favale via Unsplash