I’m not particularly sure what all the hype about LAX is. It’s crowded and always filled with traffic (I can say that because I’ve been there thrice) and it takes just as long to walk in between terminals as it does to drive between them because of the crowds. Arriving on the scene, the anxious environmentalist in me throws her hands in the air in an overwhelmed fashion while the traffic engineer in me begins to brainstorm a more efficient system that will change the lives of Southern Californians and cardigan-wearing dreamers from all walks of life.
I am currently sitting in LAX for the third time in the past two weeks. Last time I was here, I made a friend in the security line who also happened to be on my flight! This was nice because it quelled my anxiety related to flying a bit by providing a distraction but it simultaneously amplified my anxiety related to flirty boys. That journey included a total of eight legs that I will describe below. I initially sat down to write about my current experience traveling through LAX, but (who’s surprised) as I started typing, my fingers began to tell quite a different story that obviously needs to be shared with the Internet.
Leg 1
So there I was, sitting at work eating tacos with my coworkers. This may seem irrelevant (and in the grander scheme of life I suppose it is) but really that statement was just made to share that my journey to Washington D.C. did indeed start at work on Thursday afternoon (and clarifies an irrelevant detail on leg 6). When I was done changing lives for the evening, I collected my belongings, as well as the remaining guacamole from our taco lunch, and hopped in my car. I drove through the crazy California traffic and ended up at the LAX Marriott where I had made parking reservations a few days before.
I got out of my car, passed my keys over to the valet, and grabbed my bag from the back seat. The extremely kind valet pointed me towards the spot to wait for the shuttle bus that would take me to my terminal and told me they arrived every 15 minutes.
“Oh, there’s a shuttle now,” he mentioned calmly and pointed to a shining white steed of a shuttle bus. What luck! I thought to myself. I thanked my new friend and scurried over to begin the next leg of my journey. However, as I ran around the back of the vehicle, it started to move! Oh no! However, I had neither fear nor any care for my dignity, so I proceeded to enthusiastically chase after the bus and wave to the driver with gusto. After a few seconds, all of my hard work paid off and the driver did indeed lock eyes with me.
Relieved, I pointed to myself and made a motion that I hoped communicated the message “I would like to get on the bus you are driving”. (Note, I was fully aware of the numerous people watching this all play out.) I made my intentions rather clear, but unfortunately did not receive the response I was hoping for. With a swift shake of his head and firm wiggle of his finger, my potential savior dismissed my exuberant greeting and made it clear I would not be boarding his vehicle.
“Oh, yeah, cool,” I said in response despite the window between us that prevented him from hearing me and added an exaggerated thumbs up to let him know I understood. The traffic lane freed up, he jetted away, and I casually glanced around the parking lot pretending I hadn’t just caused a scene. A few people were standing a few feet away by a sign that read “LAX shuttle” so I inconspicuously made my way towards them as if that was my intention all along.
Leg 2
After what I am sure was more than the 15 minutes promised to me, a new bus arrived and 10 minutes after that, I finally got on. The funny thing about driving within a five-mile radius of LAX is that there are so many cars that it is impossible to move faster than about 5 miles per hour. My pulse heightened as we entered into this traffic and turned down a road moving away from the airport. Turns out, we were headed to another hotel to pick up more passengers before heading to the gate. My eyes darted quickly between my watch and the road as I prayed that I had left Taco Thursday early enough to make my flight.
The Earth took a few trips around the sun and then my marvelous shuttle finally arrived at Terminal 1. Letting out a premature sigh of relief, I looked at my boarding pass and saw that I still had four more stops until Terminal 5, where I was to get off. I contemplated hopping off the shuttle and taking matters into my own hands (AKA running through the airport like a madwoman with my backpack buckled to my back) but decided against it due to the fact that I had never before been to LAX and had no idea how far away the next terminal was.
Slowly but surely, we crept through the zoo of vehicles as harried travelers darted across the five-lane road. When at last we reached my land of proverbial milk and honey (that I suppose wouldn’t have made it through security anyway), I sashayed (not actually, but it is a funny image) off the shuttle and powerwalked towards security.
Leg 3
Still a bit stressed by the potential time crunch, I looked up from my phone and made eye contact with a young man with a scruffy beard and camouflage pants. As I looked down again to pull up my boarding pass on my phone, I could feel eyes hovering on me. A moment later I looked up again and caught his eyes again. I gave him my best “can I help you” look to show that I was not amused and that I am a strong independent woman.
“Sorry, I thought you were my friend; you look like someone I know”.
“Oh,” I responded, “well sorry, I don’t know you.” (I know; I’m charming.)
“So, where are you going?” he replied.
“Washington, D.C.” I responded politely.
“Hey, me too!” he exclaimed, a response that began a witty back and forth banter that extended through the security line and to the gate, since, you know, we were on the same flight. Because I am a cautious gal and I have seen the movie Taken, I had my guard up and made sure I neither ate any of the berries he offered me nor sniffed the almond butter he was snacking on and encouraged me to smell (because surely these things were poisonous).
Due to the elongated shuttle experienced I previously described, I didn’t have a ton of time to wait for the plane and after a bit of chit chat, it was time to board. I sat down in my pre-assigned seat, sent out a thank you to the Lord that I hadn’t flown Southwest and therefore had an excuse to not sit next to my new pal, and stuck my headphones in my ears. My heart filled with fear as we took off and I spent the next five-ish hours in a semiconscious state of delusion.
Once the plane landed, I darted straight to the women’s restroom (because, you know, five-ish hours) and hoped that my new friend wouldn’t follow me to the train station. To my relief, I independently found my way to the shuttle stop, as, conveniently, a shuttle bus drove up. I hopped on and turned to the driver.
Leg 4
“Hello, does this bus go to the MARC station?”
“No, it does not; it is for the parking lot,” the driver responded with kindness in his voice. “But the bus to the train station should be coming soon.” As those words escaped his lips, another bus with the words “MARC and Amtrak station” running across the front in neon letters pulled up.
“Oh yes, it’s right here, thank you!” I replied cheerily and frolicked from one bus to the other. A few others eventually made their way onto the shuttle and we departed. A few minutes later we arrived and I bought a ticket to Union Station at a kiosk like the seasoned traveler that I am. I quickly glanced at the screen detailing the arrivals and departures and saw that “Washington D.C., final call” was flashing.
Leg 5
Another perfectly-timed mode of transportation! What a miracle! I was the luckiest girl in the world (or at least in Maryland). I hopped on the train, found a seat, and the train began to move. I gazed out the window and watched as the sun began to rise above the working class neighborhoods of Baltimore and anticipated the exciting surprise reunion with my friends (I was traveling to DC to surprise them). The train finally stopped and a cheerful conductor announced that we had made it to West Baltimore. A few people got on, a few people got off, and we continued to move. A few minutes later, we began to slow down again as the conductor welcomed us to North Baltimore.
Now, this struck me as odd since I knew the airport was between Baltimore and Washington and Washington is southwest of Baltimore. I am not extremely directionally astute, but I do know that going from West Baltimore to North Baltimore felt like the wrong direction. I quickly pulled out my phone and saw that I was indeed rather northeast of my starting location. I rolled my eyes at myself and got off the train before I went further in the wrong direction.
Leg 6
As I dismounted the car, I looked up and the train that had just arrived across the platform was advertising “Washington” on the side. It looked like it was going in the opposite direction of the one I had just gotten off of, so I hopped on. And since I am a savvy traveler who would never make the same mistake twice, I turned to a somewhat friendly-looking woman sitting a few seats in front of me and clarified that I was indeed heading in the right direction.
I listened to a podcast and watched as the sun rose even higher above the same working class neighborhoods I had observed moments before. I ate one of the tortilla chips and some of the guacamole I had snagged from the office (see I told you it wasn't important) but it was soggy and pretty gross so I only ate one. I silently chuckled to myself and thought, “long time, no see” as we arrived back at my original station. However, this time, we continued on in the correct direction and eventually I found myself in the heart of the (correct) city.
Leg 7
I alerted my sister that I was on my way and started walking through the crisp morning to meet her at her office. The fresh air energized me despite my sleepless night and I grinned as I made my way through the city. As I approached her office, she told me that she was about to leave her apartment and was still 20 minutes away. Although this initially annoyed me, I entered the hotel around the corner, pretended I was a guest, and proceeded to charge my phone. Before I knew it, Tierney had arrived and I went up to her office with her to hang out and continue the necessary charging.
I met her coworkers (who very kindly made me coffee) and got to see her place of employment before I headed out. With an adequately charged phone, I made my way to the Metro and hopped on a train to Arlington.
Leg 8
(Side note: The car I randomly got on happened to be the one my friend Tyler was sitting in on his daily commute and recognized me as I got off! Unfortunately I did not see him at this time.)
Once I got off the Metro, I headed to my friends’ house to begin the surprise. It was so sweet and joyful and one of the best weekends of my life. Although it included a plethora of adventures through Southern California and suburban Maryland, the journey was so worth every moment and dollar I spent because of the people I got to spend the weekend with and the silly adventures it entailed.
I suppose I started writing because I was back in the glorious land of LAX with some time to kill and another interesting story, but I am sure you are tired of reading my unnecessarily-detailed recounting of my life so that will have to come another day.