When the cold winds blow, even here in Dealville, the heartiest soul looks abroad to other horizons so that the blood stays thin and the mind expands. Caravans can do wonder for your outlook, so planning is a must. Myself, I've been taking pills for the past two days. Destination Zero is Labadee, Haiti. The further inward we go, the larger my preparation. Which, as you know, is all good talk. It may prove fruitless - as lifeless as most art galleries.
But ay yingo, this is no caravan journey. No private plane, either. Hell, last time we tried that we flew over Mexico, when our "experienced" pilot kept wanting to land because he "knew a guy" who had real abilities. The pilot's inability to be specific was truly frustrating and led to my lack of trust. No, this is going to have to be the hard way. LAfuckinX.
I've seen the good and bad in airports...the gentle breezes of Honolulu, the "one long hallway" of Detroit, one-armed bandits in Las Vegas. But LAX seems to exist in another realm...too big to be updated, but too busy to be completely out of date. My attorney and I used to enjoy moments where we could find a gate area or even a hallway looking exactly the same as in the film Airplane! but more contemporary films will have to do. Modern problems have lead most airports to accommodate the abundance of lines, but not LAX. Two or three people are hired to tell you to stand in a line...doesn't matter what, just get in line. We've got a lot of people...so...what? Nope, not this line, that one.
It's not even that this is a necessary evil, because it's not. But this hambone left the oven under someone else's supervision so here we are. Besides, how many pioneers showed up at the grand canyon and turned to each other to say "Well, the ocean is dry, I guess?"
Knowing these folks if I make it through it will be a small miracle. And miracles...well, that's the way things ought to be. In the new year, reports from the frontline.
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