We hear about it on television. It’s glamorous. It’s sunny. It’s superficial. It’s “awesome”. It’s L.A. I had the pleasure of visiting Los Angeles for the first time this weekend for a conference (I had so much to say about the conference itself…please see later entries). Because I had never been there before, I boarded my 6:30am flight from Philly with all these grand images of what L.A. would look like running through my sleepy mind. Pretty colors. Tanned peoples. Smoggy skies. Palms trees. All that good stuff.
When I finally landed at LAX at 11 something AM (PST), I was highly annoyed by a few things. Firstly, my knee caps felt like they were going to fall off of my legs as a result of being cramped in seat designed for people who are 5’5” or shorter. Next, as I turned my phone back on, it read 2 something. This jacked me up, to say the least. Even after the time self adjusted, I could not wrap my mind around the concept of this time zone change thing. I think its silly.
After feeling like a herded mammal, I finally walked off the plane to see…nothing spectacular. From my understanding, LAX is one of the busiest, and from the looks of it, most outdated large airports in the country. So much for first impressions.
I made my way to baggage claim, waited for what seemed like an eternity for my one little bag and did some people watching. Baggage claim is one of those places that can bring out the true nature of the human spirit. Family members grab only their bag from the conveyor, leaving their grandmothers and children baffled. Children get pushed by adults for a closer spot to stand and watch the empty belt spin ’round and ’round. Young people push past older people, and offer little to no assistance with their bags. People bump into you like they want to start something, but then get all timid when you give them that look. You know what look I’m referring to…that “Don’t do it to yourself because today is not the day” look.
After watching an older man jump onto the moving belt thingy to unclog the passage from whence the luggage flowed, and having to give these young ladies my other look: the “if you keep sizing me up like that, you will get beat down or cussed out” look, I got my bag and proceeded to wait for the shuttle to the hotel. Fun times.
When I got outside, I expected flashing (flashing) lights (lights), but found none. No limos. No famous people avoiding being spotted. Slightly disappointed, and annoyed by the volume of people trying to push past me to get on the shuttle, I made my way to my final destination.
This was day 1.
