Not too lengthy a line at the security check, and our usual technique of wearing no metal and being quick to slip out of our shoes clearly gave us an advantage over the Chinese family ahead who were sent back a couple of times though the detector. I was just about to take my turn when suddenly a very fat, female TSA staffer (as they all seem to be at LAX) rudely elbowed her way in front of me. I bit my tongue and started looking for the supervisor, but The Kittens sensibilities prevented me from my usual approach which is to kick up one helluva fuss. For avoidance of doubt, I really, really, really hate the TSA.
Into the departures area and our 8:00pm flight seemed to be on time. We hadnt eaten since breakfast so we were hungry enough to get some food, but it needed to be of the fast variety. Burger King it was: some sort of hamburger for the Cat and a Vege-burger for the more delicate Kitten. I dont want to sound like someone reviewing Morgan Spurlocks excellent Super-Size Me, but even with the medium fries and medium soft drink I was struggling. For medium drink read a huge vat, and the medium fries seemed to be the product of an entire potato harvest.
Well, I have to say the burger wasnt bad, and with incipient signs of burger addiction rumbling in my tum, we wandered back to the gate. Where the flight was now showing an hour s delay to 9:00pm. Not good. There was no other news, either, so we lurked near the gate desk and shamelessly eavesdropped on the conversations: apparently rain and poor visibility had cut SFO down to single runway operation and everything was backed up.
As we loitered in the gate area I chanced to look up and suddenly the time changed again: 10:15pm now. Definitely not good. I made the first phone call to the Hotel Triton telling them of our late arrival, and we settled down to wait. Over time the discontent amongst the passengers (whose volume presaged a full flight) started to grow from a low level murmur to a distinct rumble. Finally the flight was called at around 10:45pm with a scheduled arrival time past midnight. I made a second call to the hotel to tell them not to wait up.
The MD-80 has an unusual 2-3 configuration, with only the bins above the side with three seats allowing roll-aboards to be stowed properly. Despite many announcements to this effect it was amazing how often people attempted to jam their huge carry-ons into the bins on the wrong side. We had sensibly chosen A & B seats and boarded amongst the first people, settling down to voyeuristically watch the human theatre that is the American boarding process. First there was a couple right across the aisle from us, where the man seemed to have some medical condition that required him to sniff and gurgle loudly every few minutes. Either that or he was attempting to perfect his waste-disposal impersonation.
This delectable creature was joined in the row in front by a very large, very loud, middle-aged man. He was, as he gleefully announced, on long term disability, and clearly didnt get out much. His booming voice echoed across the cabin, punctuated only by the snuffles of the guy behind. After 5 minutes we were heartily fed up with Mr Noisy, but so was the disgusting guy behind, who even had the temerity to ask Sir, would you please lower your voice?. His wife was asleep (presumably many years of doting marriage has inured her to the constant snuffling) but even so this seemed a tad rich.
The flight was uneventful enough: a soft drink was served and there were a few bumps as we headed down into SFO. We landed at a domestic terminal and then staggered down to the lower level to the baggage claim. Followed by our winsome duo every step of the way. As the clock hit midnight our bags finally appeared, and we headed out into the gloom to find a cab into The City.
Baja in February itinerary
London to San Francisco
San Francisco to San Diego
San Diego to Los Angeles
Los Angeles to Loreto
Loreto to Los Angeles
Los Angeles to San Francisco
San Francisco to London
