On Saturday I flew to Los Angeles International Airport, with two heavy cases and a carry on (and what a carry-on it was! oh ho!). I arrived after an uneventful flight in a comfy (and doubly expensive premium economy) seat. The thing is, I didn’t have a return ticket. That’s right, folks, I’ve finally made it over here. It’s been a hectic few weeks, and sadly it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting a rest any time soon.
I certainly didn’t on Saturday. I went through immigration, nervously clutching my folder of visa application papers, but that was quite a simple process. The guy asked me where I would be working, checked the papers and that was all. I was expecting to be taken aside at the very least. It would have at least reduced the amount of time spent waiting at the baggage carousel. Those things are depressing. They should at least play the Waltz from Carousel as in this video clip. It should be on a loop, and have the whistling in the background. Guaranteed to keep the waiting crowds happy.
Once my stuff came trundling round, I was able to escape into the fresh clean air of LAX Arrivals, and the parking structure beyond. I didn’t see Cassie waiting, so I walked out into the SoCal sun, where I was politely asked to move aside into the designated waiting area. Cassie emerged after me, asking why I hadn’t seen her, and clutching her dog Gordon, who was gratifyingly glad to see me.
So here I was again. I’ve been through this airport six times now. I don’t know when the next time I arrive at LAX will be. More about the first few days soon.