LAX: Hell on Earth

Last week, I was out in Los Angeles for work. Now, being: a) a seasoned traveler and b) from NYC, I believe that I should be able to handle any airport. I've been in airports with one runway. I've survived body searches at JFK in NY. I've found my way in airports in countries where I don't speak the language and they don't give a rat's a$$ about English. I've even been through LAX countless times. But last week was a different experience.

What you see here in the top picture is the line to get INTO the airport (it started outside and I got in line behind approximately 1 trillion people). Once you got in the airport, you are then corraled (kind of like at amusement parks) on a line to get to security (that's the second shot). What a fvcking disaster! I am also one of those people who, because of point a listed above, only arrive at the airport AT MOST an hour and a half prior to my departure time. Needless to say, I was cutting it close. I tried to tell some of the Nazi's, um, wait, I mean, airline attendants, that I had a flight to catch. They said they'd only allow people with 15 minutes until departure to cut the line. I had 20 minutes. B!tches!

Well, long story short, let me detail some of the people I met on line. There was Chumley, a preppy looking guy in his late 20's or so. He said, "So, some line, huh? I say if it takes any longer, you and I just cut to the chase and start making out right here...he he he." I said, "Back off you pervert."
Then there was Susie Joe. "I just cannot beeeeelieve this line. I am traveling back home to Houston and it's never like this over there. So much for Southern hospitality!" I just gave her death looks until she shut up.

I got to security, stripped off my belt, shoes, and jacket and headed through the detector. I had 10 minutes until take off. I was cleared. Threw on my shoes as I heard, "This is the final boarding call for flight 1685 to New York's John F. Kennedy airport. All passengers should be on the plane at this time." Then, I ran. Just so you know, I do not run. Anywhere. Ever. But, I wanted to go home so bad, that I kicked into high gear and ran.

I made it on the plane, got my sh!tty seat (God forbid my company would bump me up to 1st class and, of course, my miles didn't matter because 1st class was full). Sat down, and spent the next 5 hours sitting beside a snot covered little boy who kept crying and fidgeting while his mom slept.

There's no place like home!