Princess on the Road

My flight from Brisbane to LA was going swimmingly until we arrived at LAX.  The flight was right on time but the arrival gate was not.  And it was all downhill from there…

So a short delay to the gate – the airport is congested, so the plane must be towed to the gate.  Ok, no biggie.   Eventually the seatbelt sign goes off and its on for young and old.  Lucky me, I’m sitting in the second last row so I have to wait for 70 rows of people to get their shit together before I can even move from my seat.  Finally, off the plane and its off to customs.  The Qantas staff kindly handed out customs forms shortly after take off so mine were ready to go (although I had to ask for some new ones because I didn’t fill them out correctly and if you don’t fill them out correctly, customs will send you to the back of the line).  But since I was one of the last passengers off the plane, I was at the end of a looooooooooooooong line at customs.

 

When you’ve been stuck on a plane for 12 hours and you’ve had no sleep because you were sitting in the aisle seat next to people who like to wee on the hour and snore in your ear, the sight of a kilometre long customs line makes one want to weep.  And the line doesn’t progress fast.  American customs is serious business.  You hand over your forms (two forms for visitors), the forms have to be stamped, passport is stamped, visa waiver stapled into your passport, fingerprints on both hands, smile for the camera through the jet lag for a digital photo.  Everyone goes through this process.

 

My turn.  I score a funny little man who, at first I thought was Asian, but he was speaking half English and half Spanish so I guess my racial radar wasn’t working properly.  Anyway, he imparts various words of wisdom, such as never leave your drink unattended and if it’s too good to be true then it probably isn’t.  We finish up, he wishes me well and its off to baggage claim.  The nice yankee lady on the PA informed me earlier that my baggage would be on carousel A, but may have come off on carousel B so might be on the floor next to carousel A.  Being one of the last through customs meant that there wasn’t many bags to sift through and my turtle was waiting patiently for me on the floor.

 

Passengers in transit to JFK are to leave their bags with the attendant before continuing on to terminal B.  So I drop my turtle off and I’m told to exit and then turn left to terminal B.  Ok, sounds easy enough.  I walk outside and am accosted by a brother who appears to be directing passengers to their various terminals.  He asks me which flight I’m taking, I tell him, he asks me something else but I have no idea what it was cos I was tired and not listening.  He tells me I just have to take the escalator next to us up to the next floor and my terminal will be on the left.  But the sign on the escalator says terminal 4.  I have to get to terminal B.  I go up the escalator.  Its terminal 4.  Where the fuck is terminal B.  There are no signs.  I ask a Mexican dude.  He points to nowhere in particular and I assume he means the building behind us.  There are no signs.  How the fuck do I get to that building, there is a road in the way.  I go inside terminal 4.  I ask a nice lady how do I get to terminal B.  She says there is a walkway next to the road.  I see the walkway.  Hallelujah.

 

Now there are some signs.  Qanta TBIT.  Looks promising.  A nice Asian lady with bad breath and a Qantas sign greets me.  She points to nowhere in particular and says a few lefts and rights to gate 120.  She says boarding will be at 9 as we are running a little late this morning.  No shit, it’s 8.30 and the flight was scheduled to depart at 9.  I find my way to security.  I get out my laptop and my toiletries (these have to be scanned separately) and notice everyone has to take off their shoes to scan as well.  I take off my shoes.  My feet smell like death.  I hope no one notices.

 

A few lefts and rights later, I find gate 120.  I need a whizzer bad.  So I go empty my bladder, brush my teeth, wash my face.  I go find a seat at the gate.  Boarding happens after 9.  Flight departs around 10.45.  Yes, we are running a little late this morning.  It’s lunch time.  Yay!  Beef slop or listeria infested chicken wrap (I’m not kidding, there was a chicken wrap – lots of losers ate it too).  I have beef slop.  I could eat about 3 beef slops I am that hungry. 

 

 

I sleep most of the flight.  No aisle seat this time.  Only one wee break to get up for.  Flight is scheduled to arrive at 5.30.  Flight arrives 6.30.  No customs this time but the baggage claim is going at snail’s pace.  I figure I shouldn’t have to wait too long since I was one of the last to leave my bag with the attendant at LAX so logically mine should be on top.  An hour later I get my bag before almost everyone else.  Suckers. 

 

I have to get to the Ground Transportation desk to hand over my voucher for my airport transfer.  I was expecting a well-manned, as-far-as-the-eye-can-see desk but alas there were only two transportation officers working the two computers at the weeny desk that would arrange pick-up for the 50,000 people in front of me.  I waited for what seemed like my entire life when I finally get my ticket for a 7.47 pick-up (this was just after 7.30, my scheduled pick-up time was 6.20).  I get a sandwich from Starbucks.  $7.90.  Gee, what a bargain.  I scoff my sandwich as my transfer has arrived.

 

The driver collects me and two other girls.  There is a funny little man in the front seat on a laptop.  The driver has to stop at other terminals for more people.  While this doesn’t sound like a drama, JFK is like its own little suburb.  Terminal 4 pick up one person.  Terminal 2 pick up two more people.  It’s just after 8.  No more people to pick-up and we are on our way.  I’m very sleepy.

 

The driver clearly has been doing the airport transfer thing for a while as he hoons through the traffic like a pro.  It is a looooooooooooong drive to Manhattan.  I see that my iphone has picked up T Mobile for international roaming.  I try sending an sms.  It fails.  Apparently my prepaid account is invalid.  I am annoyed.   First stop is at 9pm for terminal 2 people.  A few minutes later terminal 4 gets booted.  Funny little man in the front is next.  My turn.  It’s 10pm.  I am seriously rooted.  I walk into the hostel.  Surely I must be the only person checking in at this time.  Not fucking likely.  Waiting for my entire life again.  Get checked-in.  My check-in is pretty quick since I booked before I left.  It’s about 10.40.  I decide to connect to the free wifi before bed to see what’s going on with my international roaming.  After some serious farting about, I finally get a connection but vodafone refuses to load.  I am annoyed again.  I send some text messages via Skype.  I am exhausted.  Time for shower then bed.

 

I find my room.  I’m staying in a 12 bed dorm.  Sounds like a lot but the room is massive and the beds are well spaced so it doesn’t feel the least bit crowded.  It is, however, very hot.  Like sauna hot.  And 12 bodies in sauna hot with WINDOWS CLOSED does not make nice smells.  I grab my stuff fora shower.  I get lost trying to find the ladies’ bathroom.  Naturally the mens’ is nice and easy to find.  I ask someone.  She is nice and tells me where it is.  It is pushing 11.30.  So much for my plan to get some sleep early. 

 

 

At that time of night you would think the showers would be fairly vacant.  Nope.  There is a line.  There is only 4 showers, one doesn’t work, so make that 3.  Only 1 dunny works.  The toilets are huge.  I’m worried I might fall in.  The toilet flushes with about 10 litres of water.  They certainly have water to waste around here.  I wait in line.  It is hot in the bathroom too.  Finally a shower for me.  I have a cold shower.  I wash my knickers and socks in the shower with the hostel’s free body wash.  I carefully get changed so my jammie pants don’t go in the wee water on the floor.  I successfully avoid wee water on my jammie pants.  Brush teeth.  Cleanse, tone, moisturise.  Time for bed.  I put up my clothesline and hang up my knickers, socks and towel.  It is 12.30.  I can’t sleep.  Someone is snoring.  I envy them.  I get an sms to say my prepaid account is ready to go.  Woohoo!

 

It is soooooooooooooooo hot.  And the smell of sweaty bodies is not pleasant. The windows are still closed.  They can only be opened about 10cm.  I am annoyed.  I have about 2 hours sleep.  I get up at 5 to go to the dunny.  The hallway is cooler.  The bathroom is empty.  This is clearly a much better time for a shower.  I sit in the hallway for a while.  I go back to bed and sleep for a bit.  I get woken up by people packing up to leave.  I decide I should have another shower early and then go back to bed.  This proves to be a very smart move as there is a shower vacant and waiting for me.  I successfully avoid the wee water on my pants again.  I go back to bed and sleep like a log.  It is awesome.

 

I wake up about 10 and I am starving.  I finish getting dressed, sort out my shit.  I walk over to the grocery store across the street.  It looks just like the ones you see on tv, right down to the illegal alien behind the counter.  I get some bottled water then go to the fruit and veg store a little further up.  The prices are awesome.  It is super hot outside.  Apparently there is a heat wave at the moment.  So I decide to just rest today, look around later this afternoon for the subway and places to eat and then go to bed early tonight.

 

Change of plan for the weekend – pizza tour will be on Sunday and not Monday.  I wanted Sunday when I booked it but it wasn’t available.  Scoffing pizza around Brooklyn on a Sunday sounds awesome to me.

 

Peace out.

 

 

This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 19th, 2009 at 5:39 am and is filed under USA Trip '09. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.