There are invariably ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’ among your fellow passengers when you fly in any part of the world. I discovered this still holds true in the time of Covid-19.

Almost nine months after my last flight – before the pandemic and lockdown – I took a return economy-class domestic flight in September between my home, Kuala Lumpur, and the resort island of Langkawi, an hour by air to the northwest.

I knew there were risks so why did I do it? Essentially, I needed a break. And as a travel writer, I let my curiosity lead me on.

The journey didn’t get off to the smoothest start. One day before my wife and I were due to fly, Malaysia Airlines emailed us to say we had been switched from the 9.35am flight to the 4.00pm flight the same day.

“We sincerely apologise for this unexpected change that was unfortunately unavoidable owing to our reduced operations due to the Covid-19 situation,” the airline said.

This was evidence that in domestic air travel as in almost everything else, we’re now living in an unsettled world and shouldn’t take anything for granted.

It meant we’d reach our hotel in Langkawi more than six hours later than planned. An afternoon lost. But at least we’d still be able to fly on the same day. It wasn’t really too much of a hardship.

Wearing our face masks and dutifully applying hand sanitiser, we took a taxi to Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Checking in and dropping our bags, I felt little sense of risk. I had never seen the airport so deserted.

The international departure terminal was closed, with only a few cleaners about. The adjoining domestic terminal, which we used, was nearly empty. There were no crowds and no queueing. We were attended to at once.

Most of the airport shops and food outlets were closed. We found a fast food outlet that was open and had a drink. There were few other passengers to be seen; most of the other customers were airport and airline staff. Social distancing wasn’t a problem.

Boarding the plane took place by rows in the normal way. Our flight left on time.  It was a Boeing B737-800 configured with three seats on each side of the aisle.  It was perhaps one-third full, making the journey less stressful than it might have been. Middle seats were not deliberately left vacant but we had an empty seat next to us.

As we took off, it was reassuring to bear in mind that most experts believe the air on planes is, on the whole, less risky than that on the ground. This is because it’s air-conditioned, filtered and largely replaced with fresh air every few minutes.

To risk getting infected on a flight, there has to be someone with contagious Covid-19 on board. If they are wearing a mask, it has to fail to stop the transmission. And they have to be sitting close to you. So most passengers will likely be safe.

Our flight attendants all wore masks, of course. Most also wore plastic goggles to protect their eyes during those times when passengers took off their masks to eat.

Airlines say they have enhanced the cleaning and sanitisation of their aircraft. Our seat pockets and trays certainly looked clean. The pockets were empty apart from the usual, laminated safety information sheet and sick bag.

There were no earphones and no inflight magazine. Many airlines have chosen to stop providing the magazines for health reasons. Instead, Malaysia Airlines makes its magazine, Going Places, available free online.

No open food was served on the flight. We were given sealed containers of orange juice and packs of peanuts. Each passenger was also given a sealed ‘travel immunity booster’ - an effervescent orange tablet made by a well-known pharmaceutical company.

I didn’t use the toilet and nor did most others. On a one-hour flight this wasn’t an issue. When the flight landed we disembarked in rows of four with an interval in between. This was reassuring and strictly enforced by the cabin crew.

Recharged by our stay on Langkawi, we returned to Kuala Lumpur three days later. This flight was crowded and less relaxing – and it was here that the ‘bad guy’ showed his face.

We had booked exit row seats to give us more legroom. When we boarded, a middle-aged man was sitting in my window seat. A flight attendant had to tell him to move to his own seat. It didn’t seem like a mistake on his part; he was chancing his luck and unapologetic when he had to move. It would have been a minor irritation normally; in these Covid times, when seat cleanliness is so important, it was downright annoying.

Our flight appeared to be full and, as far as I could tell, no seats were deliberately left vacant for health reasons. Our row of six was fully occupied.

Most passengers behaved well and appeared to wear their masks throughout the flight. But two sitting near me removed them partially for a while, leaving their mouths and noses uncovered. One was the man who had occupied my seat; why was I not surprised?

At KLIA we again disembarked in rows of four. The flight attendants ensured it all went smoothly. My admiration went out to them; because they had to move about the cabin regularly, they were surely more at risk than any passengers sitting quietly in their seats.

It would have been good to see a little more social distancing at the carousel but people were probably tired, relieved to be off the plane and eager to get home.

Overall, I enjoyed flying again. I had almost forgotten how attractive cloud formations can be when viewed from above, and how the afternoon sun glistens on the Strait of Malacca.

I didn’t show any symptoms of Covid-19 after the flights. But these times are fraught with uncertainty. There are bound to be risks when a lot of people are crammed into a small space. Simply staying at home will always be a safer option.

Anyone thinking of taking a domestic flight in Asia will need to weigh these risks for themselves before deciding whether to take to the air again.

Header image: © Alan Williams