Monday, April 8, 2013
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Saturday, September 17, 2011
But not today, I am driving to my destination; heading south riding the caustic artery of LA’s 405. Its 4:18am and the sun hasn’t dared to look over the horizon, yet. The road comes fast at this time of day, rolling with the school of big rigs that surround me. I felt like a fly on the back of a wild buffalo caught in a running herd rumbling through the lands. This is the only way to travel.
The traffic coagulated a bit just north of the city but it was quite manageable. The sun started to make the slow climb into the morning sky. Driving through downtown this early is a bit eerie. Quiet, only a handful of people on the streets almost no traffic and most of the street lights hung on solid green. It felt like the entire city was a movie backdrop. Have I entered Façade Diego? Hotel parking was easy but at $26 a day it damn well better be easy. Checked in; they put me at the top floor. It’s a nice view, one of the few times my view didn’t consist of a parking structure or a rusted roof top peppered with air conditioners. Unpacked and took a few minutes to gaze out the window. Small boats dotted the bay while huge military ships were docked nearby. It’s good to be American.
Until Next Time.
Monday, June 6, 2011
The airport was full for a Thursday morning. I mean who travels this early on a Thursday? Glad I got there when I did, the American Airlines terminal was packed will all types of travelers. Waiting at the gate, laptop in hand looking what the weather is in New York, I’m not even going to New York. Holy crap its early - who invented this time anyway? Then it hit me, a child’s toy smacked me in the head, there was a moment of silence which was broken by the hysterical laughter of a toddler. That kind of laugh that only a child has, a mix of hysteria and evil. You can’t be mad because laughing is one of the few contagious things that you don’t mind being around. I turned to my left and there she was, maybe three or four. The child had crazy hair like a static bomb exploded in a blond factory. She smiled and gave me that eye; I knew she was planning something.
We boarded the plane; someone was sitting in my seat. The guy requested that we switch seats so he could sit next to his son. So I took his seat on the other side, which of course was right behind the little girl who hit me in the head with her inflatable bat. It seems her plan is coming to fruition. When I set down I looked up and saw her little fingers wrap over the top of the seat, her head slowly creeped up and as soon as we made eye contact she started that evil chuckle. Great, the three year old toddler with crazy hair knows I’m here – within striking distance.
All was quiet in 35a until about halfway into the four hour flight. Catastrophe stuck. I had a glass full of Ginger Ale sitting on the place mat in front of me. Then without warming the icy cold beverage from Canada decided to commit suicide just as I was pulling out a magazine. For my convenience the ginger ale chose my lap as a good place to end its life. Now here is where things start to get interesting. I am wearing tan pants, not jeans but cotton pants that are tan. Hey look my lap now look likes the bladder has gone full release. Great, now what - the girl next to me had that look of awkward disgust. The first words out my mouth was “Did you see that? A typhoon just flew in my pants!” Almost on cue, the toddler sitting in front of me poked her head over the seat and started laughing in the the language of Hysterics.
Two hours to go, sitting in a wet seat with wet pants. I then realized that in this situation with no change of clothes nearby there really isn’t anything I can do. Using the air nozzle to dry my pants was a valiant but feeble effort. All I could do is wait and think about dry things.
Until Next Time
Monday, November 8, 2010
My taxi ride to the hotel had more turbulence then an elephant’s fart. I should have known what I was getting into when the taxi driver sped up to the curb and slammed on his breaks sliding about three feet past me. The door seemed stuck and I couldn’t get it open, then I heard the taxi driver say, “just kick it a few times!”. Sure enough, have damage will travel. When getting into the minivan disguised as a cab I noticed open hand prints on the inside of the windows – these looked like marks made from someone getting a panic attack. I knew then, I was in the right cab. The ride to the hotel was one of the most memorable cab rides I have had in years. This guy missed his calling; his driving characteristics were somewhere between a circus act, stunt driver and a crash test dummy. We were on the freeway when an ambulance flew by; he proceeded to follow the emergency vehicle like an attached rail car. It was more vehicular sodomy then tailgating. In and out of traffic he followed the sirens like a piece of cheese hung from a wire. After a while I am assuming the speeding ambulance was too slow so he passed it and moved on. He was changing multiple lanes and cutting people off but what was crazy to me was how calm his demeanor was. Casually moving the steering wheel while a violent fate was making chase. The pure horror locked the muscles in my face and I couldn’t stop smiling. One hand had a death grip on the seat while the other..oh yes, I too was giving the window a panicked high five. The ride came to a halt like air brakes on an old rollercoaster. My head nearly hit the seat in front of me. I told him his driving was awesome and tipped nicely. He smiled and yelled, “top gun!” while giving me the thumbs up. I wanted to come back with a witty response like “mustard!” but my body was still going through shock from the previous 27 near-death experiences.
This trip has definitely started on the right path.
Until Next Time
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
My favorite story was about his good friend “James”. Now James was married, however he was not pleased with his wife. He would bark it up with Vince at the local tavern and tell these horrible stories about his wife. “She couldn’t care less about me – all she does is gripe about money and how useless I am!” This went on and on for several years but James never left, he just hoped that someday it would get better. It was a Saturday, the yard was mowed and the heavy scent of freshly cut grass filled the air. Vince decided to quench his thirst at the tavern before Marge (his wife of 20 years) got home. When he got to the tavern to his surprise he saw his pal James sitting at the bar. “I think she’s cheat’n on me Vince!!” James yelled with a drunken stagger. “Now hold on there Jimmy what’s the matter?” Vince kept the next Scotch from getting near James. “one of these days…I’ll leave her! I mean it!! – Now bug off I need some air!” James stumbled out the door to the blinding light of the sun. He then heard was sounded like a horn..but then it was too late. Without warning a bus that suffered a blown tire ran up the sidewalk and in an instant knocked the life out of James.
“That was it? That was the story?” I asked. Vince took a deep drag from his filter-less cigarette and sighed. “Now you see James hated his situation but he never left. The longer he stayed the more impossible it seemed to leave. Even when his wife took an interest to the pool guy, he never left. Til that one day a bus drove by and killed him. So if you are ever in a bad situation; leave as soon as you can, or you’ll never see the bus coming.”
Until Next Time.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Dull moments can last forever or never happen – at the same time. The hotel staff are the ghost of service; always moving tables, setting up food dispensaries and distributing linens – they are often seen but rarely present. The pungency of taxi drivers, sounds of the street philosophers and the sights of community college bar maids all play a part in this act; a perpetual sequel to a play that has yet been written. The immune system is always under siege and the feeling of “almost sick” is often standard procedure within these grounds.
It’s not romantic, polished or divine. Your never in a place it’s more of a state of mind. Keeping the brain true to the task at hand while dealing with fatigue, hotel nutrition and a hangover can be a challenge but after awhile it all goes numb. Thursdays are Mondays, Fridays are Tuesdays and today will happen sometime tomorrow. Try waking up in a cold sweat because you're late for the meeting only to find out it’s 3am because your mind thinks it’s still in another time zone. After the panic subsides you toss and turn trying to get back in to a hold of sleep only to be awaken again by environment unfamiliarity and the adultery happening next door. Hotels are only familiar due to repetition, the smells and paid smiles are often the same. Bad air fresheners’ and stale cold air being pumped through the vents are just part this element. The rest made up of controlled situations with an uncontrollable circumstance.
The experience of the traveler is feeling out of place; and that’s core of why I’m here. It’s something you look forward to as much as you want it to end, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Until Next time.