So far so good. Although I woke up desperately early again, I've realised that my flight from here leaves at nearly bedtime, and it arrives in Sydney at nearly-getting-up-time so I might be able to sleep on that plane and arrive fresh and sprightly, rather than as a shambling, flesh-eating creature from beyond the grave after thirty hours of travel, ready for another eighteen hours of wakeyness before I'm allowed to go to sleep. Currently my plan for getting sleep on the plane involves complimentary beverages, although whether or not they'll exist remains to be seen.
Ted cooked up a feed of pancakes-&-maple-syrup with sausages this morning, pancakes being one of my favourite American breakfasts (the other being bagels and spooge) and I managed to pack everything. Fortunately the four new shirts didn't take up much extra rucksack space and it seems to be slightly less-stuffed than previously, the prezzies for Britta barely squeeze into my little backpack, the Airport card is occupying a space that's otherwise empty in my computer, and my hat fits inside my other hat in a duty-free bag.
Rod left me to San Francisco airport pretty early (we'd allowed time for traffic and disasters) and getting the flight to Los Angeles went smoothly. At the metal-detectory bit they wiped a little cloth over my computer and put that in an analyser, presumably looking for explosives residue, but it came up clean. And I've managed to make it through two metal detectors now without setting them off, a previously unheard-of feat (it probably helps that I've been taking my shoes off, because it's quicker). And speaking of my computer and San Francisco airport, I had a quick look to see what they had in the line of a wireless network - there was indeed one I was able to connect to, but I couldn't ssh or ping out of it and when I checked for a webpage it gave me a login webpage, which wanted either me to enter my username and password, or thirty bucks for a month's use. I can't find any network from here now.
So my flight outta here isn't leaving until half ten - in fact the gate is currently full of people getting a flight to London in a few minutes from here - and I can't think of anything else to do. I haven't scanned every square inch of the terminal building for a bar yet, so that might be a way to rid myself of some of my remaining America-money, and I liberated a few books from Rod's will-fit-in-combats-pocket paperback collection (pretty small collection actually, most of their stuff is either large or hardback or both) so I've been reading Down and Out in Paris and London, by George Orwell which is pretty good so far.
Okay, I'm gonna go look for a bar, I'm hot and thirsty and sober. Wow, holy crap, that thing about ten metres from me says "BAR" on the other side of the sign to where it says "DELI". That was easy.
Saturday, 19th April 2003, 6:20 p.m. PST, the Northside Bar and Deli in LAX's international terminal
A successful venture indeed. I realised I hadn't eaten since breakfast and wouldn't be getting plane-food until at least eleven tonight, so I browsed the deli's offerings and surfaced with a Udon Soup, which is no doubt just as crappy as all the other stuff they have here but at least I don't know what it's supposed to look like when it's made properly. It wasn't bad, and they heated it up and served it with chopsticks which was nice. I've got beer, and a lousy chocolate chip cookie, and my book and my computer, and this isn't all as bad as I was expecting after all.
Saturday, 19th April 2003, 11:50 p.m. PST, on a plane about an hour out of LAX
I am the jammiest git in the world. Best seats in the house, baby. Not only am I at the back of a compartment thingie so there's no other passengers behind me so I don't feel guilty about putting my seat back should I so choose, but when I sat down I had THREE seats to myself. Unfortunately somebody wandered past and enquired if one of them is taken, and it wasn't (I'd moved from my aisle seat to the one next to the window) so he sat down there, but it's the thought that counts.
I'm inclined to wonder why I spent all that time sitting in the airport waiting for my flight, when now I'm going to have to spend a very long time indeed sitting down some more. Surely it would have been better to wander around the terminal, or do some exercises or something. But I finished my book. I've just had the supper they offered, so my next plan is to see if I can't get some rum out of them (in deference to my old Dungeons & Dragons character) as an aid to sleep, and then pass out. Only twelve and a half hours to go, piece of cake, I don't know what I was getting so worried about actually.