Los Angeles: Departure (leg 1)

I don’t know if this cross-country journey is starting off on the right foot. After I finished packing, I laid down on my bed and promptly fell asleep. But not to worry, I woke up from my brief cat nap in time to haul ass to the street corner so that I could hail a cab because I thought it would be cheaper than ordering a car from Dial 7, which is what I normally do. Hailing a cab in Harlem during rush hour is hard. Since NOBODY wanted to go to La Guardia, I decided to risk it and take a gypsy cab, a beat up Lincoln sedan driven by a Maverick cabbie who charges unsuspecting tourists and desperate New Yorkers exorbitant fees. I could have used public transportation but it’s my first time to fly standby as a travel companion and so I wanted to get there extra early. Plus, I’m spoiled.

So right now, I’m sitting in Gate A2 in New York’s La Guardia Airport hoping and praying that Continental grants me a seat. While I dressed according to first class regulations, I would gladly sit in coach next to a loquacious 500-lb man as long as I get to Houston in time to hop on the connecting flight that would take me to Los Angeles. Yep…coincidentally, my layover is in my home state.

Well, I couldn’t get on the first flight and was rolled over to the next flight to Houston which landed in George Bush International one hour late. On my flight to Houston, I sat between a man whose breath smelled like he had just dined on Jamaican Jerk chicken, and a man who had his volume to his headphone at a decibel level loud enough for me to hear Owen Wilson deliver his mind-blowing lines in Drillbit Taylor. I didn’t watch the movie but from the chuckles and snorts emitting from my fellow passengers, I’m guessing that it was hilarious in a lets-watch-three-kids-get-the-snot-beat-out-of-them-by-two-bullies-for-two-hours kind of way. After landing at 11:16 pm CST, I headed down to baggage claim and saw La Quinta’s ad hanging over the carousel. Being bereft of bed and lodging, I promptly booked a reservation for the night ($146.25, tax included) with Yasmeen who with her smiles and generosity with free toiletries* restored my faith in humanity.

After a hot shower, I crawled into my double bed, read half a chapter of Mitchell’s southern epic, and didn’t stir until the phone rang to wake me up call at 5:15 am. I dressed in yesterday’s attire and made my way down to the lobby to break the night’s fast. A formidable spread lay before me: rock hard-boiled eggs, muffins, bagels, cereals, instant oatmeal and grits (it is Texas), do-it-yourself Belgian waffles, kolaches, and eggrolls—continental indeed! I ate a bagel and schmear and grabbed a banana and coffee for the road.

* As of this moment, my teal suitcase containing my clothes, four pairs of shoes, and my toiletries is waiting for me in LAX airport in the City of Angels. As my mommy pointed out, my luggage made it to LA while its owner did not. All I had with me at check-in was my wallet, chapstick, and Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind.