Flying long haul is the
strangest thing. Asides from the basic fact that human beings are just not
designed to sit for eleven hours, with the only the odd wander up and down an
aisle to ensure a modicum of physical activity, time sort of both stretches and
contracts, and although, after the first 90 minutes, I usually feel like
chewing my own arm off from boredom, the flight from London to Los Angeles also
seemed to pass in a trice. For those who recall my last blog/s, you may
remember how I much I hated Boeing 777 aircraft, AND how much I hated Air New
Zealand (fish stew as a dinner choice?!). Well, sadly, cost reduction meant
that yesterday I once again found myself on an Air New Zealand 777. For anyone
who hasn’t seen their latest safety video, look it up on You Tube. IMO, it
really does make you want to punch the nearest flight attendant! The good thing
was that I was able to sleep for some of the journey, courtesy of Sominex. This
over-the-counter medication is only available in the US (British Sominex is a
different drug), so two of them and a few glasses of sauvignon blanc, and BAM!
No doubt I was snoring and dribbling excessively, but surely preferable to the
two yowling babies behind and to the right? A couple of hours before we landed
(scheduled 19:35 local time), we were served afternoon tea - with scones!
The ever present drive towards
adopting new technologies meant a ‘new’ immigration process for visa-waiver
passengers – self-service machines, which seemed designed to test the wits of
battle-weary travellers, but I managed to get US Customs and Immigration to
accept me, and eventually emerged into the warmth and tumult of LAX street
level. Went and found a cab, and we were off into the LA night. Hilariously,
the Italian (I think) cab driver sympathised with my long journey and insisted
I smoke! In the cab!! In Los Angeles!!! Serious nicotine rush as we chatted
about soccer (not kidding). By the way, if you ever fly into LA, be aware that
taxis are very expensive. My trip was 15-20 minutes and cost about £45, but
what they hey.
My base for the next few weeks
is in mid-town, just below LA High School (look it up). Was given a perfunctory
welcome and quick tour of the guest-accessible facilities by G (doing
his masters in IT, he explained) and was left to sort out my life. Had a brief
wobble when I discovered that I hadn’t set up a security PIN to access
voicemail while here (now sorted), and once again realised that there are ‘dog
people’ (me) and ‘cat people’ (mein hosts). Two feline beasties eyed me
with disdain, and of course tried to get into my room. Denied! I had to get up
for a pee in the night, and in the gloom managed to kick one that was lying
across a door way (not intentional, honest!). The place is a wee bit tatty, but
it’ll do.
Wide awake at 3.00am.
Eventually dozed off, and have now just had coffee (complicated pod-type
machine) an am about to do the ridiculous set of exercises the physio has given
me. These can only done in strictest privacy, otherwise am sure a crowd will
gather to point and stare as this British pot-bellied man attempts to
impersonate a fat giraffe (Rob suggested fat flamingo, but that’s going a wee
bit too far, don’t you think?).
The day beckons. What’ll happen
is anyone’s guess!
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