Los Angeles International Airport has very little in the way of facilities. Me being me (as opposed to a giant steel panda called Yanis), I arrived early to deal with security which consisted of getting my bag X-rayed, then my jacket, then going through the metal detector, then being asked if someone could search my book. I was worried they might not approve of my latest taste in reading material–a low-grade fantasy novel–but I appeared to pass this tricky test.
Also gave a load of pennies to a guy with a bucket by the escalator and the reassuring noise of cash jingling prompted him to engage me in his version of highbrow conversation. Once he realised where I was from, he regaled me with his impersonation a UK accent. My goodness, how we did laugh. The tears of mirth could have drowned a small village in Worcester or the Ukraine. Then in I went.
Now, when I say LAX doesn’t have much to offer, I mean the duty free shop is tiny and there are only a couple of other shops, run by the most disinterested shop assistants I’d come across in the US. The appear to be having a competition to see who can create the longest line to the till. One shop also sold the most staggering array of tawdry souvenir crap I’d come across too. Naturally I bought gifts for people there.
Highlight of terminal two, LAX, are the splendid catering facilities. These consist of: one facsimilie Cheers bar, one pizza establishment which could have been okay–I didn’t go in–plus one noodle bar, closed presumably because patrons might run amok with chopsticks. There’s also a Burger King which served food without trays so that people had to eat off the uncleaned tables. Ugh.
Still, it’s nice to see somewhere that makes Heathrow look good.
But really the worst part was that I spent nearly thirty minutes searching for hard candy. Hard candy is a crucial staple of all airports because you need some to suck on it when your ears start popping in the plane. Okay, it’s important stuff because I need sugar for my sweet tooth. Lots. And I need it how I need it, not in gummi form. No chance. Gummi rubber chewy candy of every conceivable variety was on offer, but no hard candy. That sucked, in a non-ironic way.
I realise this recap of the joys of LAX is a perhaps a little lame as posts go–hey, I’m tired, it’s been a loooooooong day–but let it be a warning to you. If you’re flying out from Los Angeles, be sure to pack your sweets before you get to the airport.
Farewell, my sweets.