My LAX Observations

It has been said, "If men were intended to fly, then they would have hatched and had feathers and wings and beaks and other birdlike features". Okay I'm sure who ever actually said it, did so in a much more eloquent manner. But you get my point. I feel that airports, such as LAX, are a great argument in favor of the thinking that man should have remained a flightless mammal.

Our church is having a family crusade this week (every one is, of course, invited) and the responsibility of picking up the preacher fell to me (no surprise there). Unfortunately for me, he decided to fly into LAX. I don't blame him, although I passed two perfectly good airports on my way to pick him up. Oh well, that's neither here nor there.

It's about a two hour trip from my house to LAX. It can be done in a shorter amount of time if there is no traffic and the weather cooperates. Neither of those things were true last night. I am not sure that there is ever a time when there is not traffic on the 91 freeway. Even at 10:00 at night it is a virtual parking lot. Why all those people feel the need to be out and driving on the same road I need to be on at the same time I need to be on it is beyond my comprehension. I occasionally yell this at the top of my lungs while sitting in traffic. I am what I would call an impatient driver. I am what my wife calls a bad driver. I disagree with this designation. I am a good driver. I don't cause accidents (that is to say that I've never been found at fault in an accident and since I was 17 I've not even been in one). Although, I have seen a few occur directly behind me. I just have little tolerance for people who refuse to drive what I like to refer to as "the right way!"

I left my house just as Southern California went into Storm Watch. This occurs every time there is the slightest drizzle in LA. Every one in the community goes into panic mode. The mayor takes a break from trying to see how much of his foot he can swallow and declares a state of emergency. The collective I.Q. of LA drivers (which is significantly low in the first place) plummets to idiotic levels (and any one with an I.Q. below 20 is officially categorized as an Idiot, I'm not just trying to insult them).

I arrived at LAX (no small miracle there)and began looking for the appropriate terminal. Now, LAX certainly isn't the biggest airport in the country. It does, however, accommodate just as many flights, if not more, than some of its mid-west cousins that seem to stretch on endlessly. The problem is that the terminals are all on the right which diverts your attention that way so that you find the right one. But the parking for the terminals is on the left, leaving you to scramble across a couple lanes of traffic if you're not paying attention. It only complicates the matter when you add in all of the people who are playing their own personal game of Frogger as they try to get from the terminal to the parking lot alive (I here confess to the desire to leave more than a few of them as little green splats on the airport roadway). I finally found my terminal and its corresponding parking lot, chose a spot (being careful not to ding the vehicle next to me, ever vigilant) and walked over to the cross walk to begin my own round of Frogger.

Having made it across the road, barely escaping with my life, I entered the baggage claim area and took a seat to wait for the plane to arrive. As I was people- watching (one of my favorite past times), I decided to make myself an honorary TSA agent so that I might make the world a better place and screen these people more closely. It became necessary to relax my personal standards as it would have meant putting almost everybody on the no-fly list.

I looked across the terminal and noticed the group of men and one woman who were dressed similarly with black coats and ties on white shirts. They were each standing behind one of those luggage carriers holding signs with someone's name written across it. I decided to no-fly all of the people whose names appeared on the signs. I don't know what makes a person so important that they can't either get a friend to pick them up or use public transportation like the rest of us. I do know that they aren't nearly as important as they think they are and that they don't need a personal driver. I will also no-fly the drivers for encouraging this kind of behavior.

I will also no-fly the man who keeps waiting at the 3rd baggage claim which is out of order and so declared by several signs posted around it. I can hear him mumbling something under his breath about incompetent airport personnel. He keeps standing there like he's waiting for Denise from Taco Bell to appear and give him a special deal. What a tool!

A plane just arrived; not the one I'm waiting for but it does provide me with more fodder for this blog. I'm torn as whether or not to no-fly this next gentleman. He is wearing a leather coat with patches sown all over it. Sort of a grown-up version of a letterman jacket. The redeeming quality is that the name across the back reads "Stunts Spectacular". Which leads me to believe that he is either a stunt man or capable of beating up a stuntman and taking his jacket. Either way, I'm impressed with this guy. Up until I got a closer look at the patches on the jacket. Each one was a title of a movie on which he worked, I assume. This is where I have a problem. Some of the movies make me scratch my head. I didn't see Austin Powers Goldmember, but I can't imagine how dangerous any of the shots were to merit a stunt man. I also can't possibly conceive how necessary a stuntman was for The Incredibles. Which leaves me to believe that this guy just bought a leather jacket and a bunch of patches and got his mom to sow them on- definitely not fit to fly!

The baggage claim was littered with the usual suspects. There were parents reunited with their children and couples in each others arms again. There were pregnant women looking happy to be off the plane. Kids who were eager to have more room to run around and their parents who were all too willing to let them. Business men who appeared to be at the end of their patience, no doubt from exercising restraint and not throttling the rowdy kids or the seemingly apathetic parents. There was that one guy who seems to get incredible rest on an airplane looking insouciant after his flight.

I was aware that LAX was the intended destination for Oceanic flight 815. I began to peruse the denizens of the baggage claim looking for these poor LOST souls. I found a guy that who looked very much like Hurley but he was definitely not as jovial as the plucky comic relief. One of the pregnant ladies slightly resembled Claire (if you closed one eye, squinted the other and stood on your head until all the blood rushed to your eye sockets) and there were a few of the mothers who were a dead ringer for the new crazy Claire. I was disappointed not to find a Ben lookalike, but then I suppose a man as tricky as that wouldn't just saunter out with the general public. He probably sneaked onto his flight and left disguised as a stewardess, with no one ever the wiser.

The preacher arrived and we waited for the baggage carousel to start up and begin cycling the luggage around just slow enough to be agonizing but fast enough to be to far away if you fail to get a good grasp on it at your first grab. After a couple of rounds of "grab that bag" we secured all of the necessary items and made our escape from this terminal prison. I made it safely back to the valley being sure to point out every possible airport on the way.