Chope: True KL-ites

It's a question I've often found myself mulling over. What do you call someone from the Klang Valley? An oft-use term, at least in writing, is "KL-ite." I've never fully been comfortable with the moniker—what with its awkward hyphen and all—and it seems few people really are. Aside from magazines like this and maybe some newspapers, I've rarely heard it used, least of all in casual conversation among people living in the city.

Not only does it not roll of the tongue easily, but "KL-ite" isn't completely accurate either. When someone is said to be from KL, it doesn't necessarily mean they literally are. Some are from PJ, in fact. Or Subang, Shah Alam or Klang. I draw the line at Putrajaya and Cyberjaya though. Include them in, and next thing you know folk from Nilai, Negeri Sembilan, would want to be considered as from being KL.

"KL" it seems, is just a better brand name used to represent the entire Klang Valley, which is essentially one big city anyway. Puchong and Damansara Heights might be as different as night and day, but we all sit through the same traffic jams to go to the same malls to eat at the same food court. It's just that calling ourselves "Klang Valleyites" is probably the only thing more awkward than "KL-ites."

Whatever we call ourselves, however, living here has undeniably shaped us in one way or another. I do find myself inextricably linked to the city, for better or worse. The things I hate about it are also the things I hate about myself. Like the city, I'm always late. And I'm better at making plans than executing them. Like the Klang Valley, I've been trying to change. For most of my life.

As a reflection of the city that they live in, its inhabitants often share certain characteristics or experiences. For instance, I've discovered, from doing a little bit of googling, that you know you're a New Yorker when you order Chinese food through bullet-proof glass. And that you know you're a Londoner when you can get into a four-hour argument about how to get from Shepherds Bush to Elephant & Castle at 3:30 on the Friday before a long weekend, but can't find Dorset on a map.

Um, OK, whatever that means. But you do know you're truly from the Klang Valley when ...

Conferences and summits like ASEAN, NAM, and OIC all spell the same thing to you—road closures and traffic jams.

You expect to park anywhere that is most convenient for you, even if it's not a parking spot.

You've "settled" with a policeman before.

You think drinking and driving is dangerous—when there's a road block. So you SMS your drinking friends to inform them when you see one.

You open the door to a taxi and check with the driver if he's agreeable with your destination before boarding. Even in a foreign city.

You never want to line up and pay cover charge to get into a club. You always try to find jalan somehow.

You leave for your destination around the time of the appointment.

You're not sure whether to use English, BM or even Chinese when you speak to a foreign worker at a restaurant.

Your idea of showing visiting friends around is a tour of the shopping malls and the best street food.

You press for the crosswalk light, but cross before it even changes.

You stop your vehicle when the light says red at the crosswalk. But you don't wait until it's green before driving off, as the person who pushed the button had already crossed.

You think pedestrian bridges are more inconvenient than dodging oncoming traffic and squeezing between the barriers on dividers to get to the other side.

You get your movie recommendations from the guy selling pirated DVDs.

You enter elevators and trains as soon as the doors open, making others squeeze past you.

You think using the speakerphone makes it OK to talk while driving, because the police cannot see.

You start a new queue of your own when the existing one is too long.

You think "on the way" is a sufficient answer when people ask where you are, and you use it even though you just stepped out of the shower.

You know what health spas actually are.

You have mastered the art of using a dirty bathroom by breathing little and touching as few surfaces as possible.

You greet some friends with a hug, some with air kisses, some with a handshake, and others with just a wave.

You have been, or know someone who has, a victim of a snatch theft.

You rush out to buy petrol after receiving an SMS about a price hike the next day.

Wild horses couldn't drag you to The Beach Club.

A big part of your income goes to paying for tolls, and you think of Samy Vellu when that upsets you.

Of course, like how your mileage might vary, so would your relationship with this city.†Not everyone here is a tardy, self-centred jerk with little respect for the law. And some of us do like going to clubs that are popular with tourists and expatriate where really bad music is played. Furthermore, as unique as we'd like to think we are, there are plenty of experiences that aren't just limited to our city. But it's hard to deny that it is these random experiences that have shaped the lives of most KL-ites, even if they're from Kajang.

Care to add to the list? E-mail Brian at brian@klue.com.my