Oh what a day.
What does it say about LAX when the EASIEST thing was
getting through immigration and customs? I am convinced that Dante foresaw this
cluster and described it as at least one of the circles of Hell.
So, I get through those immigration and customs, and start
dragging my luggage from the Tom Bradley International Terminal to the Delta
terminal for my flight to San Diego. It’s
quite a haul, because you first have to pass the American Airlines terminal 4
doors before you get to the Delta Terminal 5 doors. I finally get there, and try to check in, but
the kiosk can’t find my flight based on any of the information I entered. So I
scoured my little itinerary printout and discovered – this flight is on
American. My bad. So I hauled my luggage back to terminal 4.
I got there and went to the kiosk and entered my info – and voila
it found my flight! Which had been delayed by 2 hours. I specifically decided
to suffer on an American Airlines flight just because it gave me the best
arrival time. Well screw that. EVERY TIME I try to give American another chance
they somehow manage to muck up the works.
Well I got checked in, took my suitcase, and discovered it
was 4 lbs over the limit. The limit that
I had already paid $25 for. And this was after I had transferred some stuff
from the suitcase to my backpack and put on an extra shirt. My options were
moving stuff again, or paying $100. I went with the $100. When that transaction
was complete, the “friendly” bag lady then told me I had to go to terminal SIX
for my gate. To recap, I passed terminal 4 because I thought I needed to be at
terminal 5, got there, discovered I needed to be in terminal 4, checked in, and
then had to walk back to terminal 6.
By this time I am growing moist and kind of tired (12 hour
flight, minimal sleep). At terminal 6 I went through security, and of course it’s
basically a strip search since one guy on one flight one time years ago tried
something bad with his shoes. I went through the full body scanner, and had to
be patted down on my back. Apparently sweat pooled in your lower back shows up
on the scanner.
And now, I sit in the gate that is the transfer point to my
next gate. And the only electrical outlet I could find was in the men’s room.
That felt awkward, standing there in the restroom entrance waiting for my phone
to get up to 20%. At least I was able to help the gentleman, who needed a
sit-down, by watching his daughter. Nothing odd at all about asking a stranger
standing in the restroom to watch your young daughter while you have a poo.
What did we learn today kids? American Airlines still sucks.
And LAX is still a cluster.
But hey, at least I’m on American soil again.
