Travelling

Travel is no longer much fun. The hassle is so immense that it doesn’t feel like it’s worth it, until you arrive somewhere great. Today I am traveling between Los Angeles and London, a trip I have made several hundred times. It isn’t getting any better. Even if you know how to travel, and I do, there is just no easy way of managing all the small indignities they now put you through, all in the name of security.

Luckily I had my trusty BlackBerry with me as this had warned me yesterday that our flight was to be put forward thirty minutes. I was lucky again when they sent me another update just before leaving my daughter’s apartment to say that the flight was now going to be delayed an hour and a half, or one hour from the original time. I am now hopeful that it won’t be changed again. But from experience I expect it’s more about the airline, this time United, which will be consolidating flights that would otherwise be insufficiently full.

Today I had arranged for my hire car to be picked up at between 9 and 9.30. Of course no one showed, I called the number, and, after checking to see whether I had, in fact, sent an e-mail confirming the pick up, they said they would be with me shortly. They were, but of course it was another small aggravation.

The journey to the airport was uneventful, which is just how you want it to be. The baggage check in line was again an event. The idea behind this was supposed to be to liberate us from lining up. In fact what’s happened is that now there are a great many very confused passengers not knowing where to go, what to do and how to do it, and they’re all in my way until I am in the front of the line, similarly suffering from terminal confusion as my blood pressure rises. I had pre-checked in on line the previous night, but it didn’t give the simple message, just drop your bags off at the desk and we’ll take care of you. Well, maybe it did, but not in any way I could understand. I did figure it out but there were a couple of minutes where I wanted to hit the computer as it kept asking me questions I had already dealt with last night.

Once this was accomplished I had to join the big, Disney type, zigzag line wending its way to the customers and immigration officers. This is made much more entertaining by a great many people of various nationalities standing, oblivious to the fact that they’re in the way, as they wait for their friends and relatives to gain access from the access point, which is vigorously policed by another security person checking for boarding passes. Once these people have been carefully avoided I found myself being politely allowed through after being checked.

Yes, you guessed it, another line. This time to security, which is the only time I think there should be some time spent getting it right. The signs told us to remove our shoes, laptops, bum bags, sweaters and coats. This we did, now getting distinctly warmer as the people in the line moved at their various speeds. It is also where I discover I am not as fast as I thought, but much faster than some others. Eventually my stuff is safely loaded onto the plastic container and the conveyor takes it steadily off. As I come to the personal security arch the surly guard demands my boarding pass that I have carefully placed into my bag that is, even now, moving away from me on the conveyor. He shakes his head and looks at me with hate in his baleful stare. I clearly should have known, telepathically, that he would be the third person demanding this vital document within twenty yards. He allowed me, with absolutely no grace, to collect my papers from my bag and return to him. He growled something unintelligible and I was allowed through. Now I was hopping about trying to re-shoe myself as I placed my laptop back into my case plus find my sweater and bum bag. This takes place whilst people of every type and nationality suffer similar indignities all around me.

Deciding that sustenance was desperately required I found my way to the inappropriately named, Food Hall. It is a motley collection of awful places that no one, however hungry, could ever want to eat at. It was now about 11 am and so it seemed that breakfast would be nice. It appeared in large type on the menu. With great expectation I ordered this delightful looking dish. Of course, you know that breakfast was no longer available. The young lady who told me this said it as if this was obvious. I ordered something that approximated the same type of thing, and received a $25 revolting mess. I will never again complain about our British airport food establishments; they are so far superior it doesn’t bear comparison.

Now I am patiently waiting for my delayed plane, but that, and the journey is a story for another day. I just hope United Airlines and Los Angeles International Airport conspire to make it as uneventful and boring and efficient as possible.

Post script. Arrived safe but tired in London. Had the customary and lengthy route march from the plane to the customs, immigration and baggage halls. It is only fair to mention that the cases came through almost immediately; the car park worked well, and from landing to being on the road took less than 25 minutes. Wonderful, now for some sleep!