USA - Los Angeles - The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men...

Oh. My. Goodness. I knew travelling came with its share of challenges and irritations, but I didn't expect to encounter so many within the first three days of my trip!

Intrigued? Read on.

I arrived at the Ottawa Airport more than early enough, having heard about some storms interrupting flights in the U.S. I was told my connecting flight in Chicago was cancelled and was rerouted via Air Canada to Washington and then Washington on American Airlines to L.A. Sounds simple enough right? The only downer was that I'd be arriving later than anticipated, around 9pm instead of 6pm, meaning I'd likely have to meet my travel partner Mick the Australian at the hostel instead of at the airport.

I was just killing time happily until my flight left, and then I hear the dreaded announcement that my flight to Washington is delayed by an hour, which will now give me merely 40 minutes to catch my connection to LA at a different terminal. I speak the agent, who protects me a seat on a later flight with United Airways, just in case I can't make the original booking. Super, right?

Not super. I arrive at Washington, dart over to the shuttle between terminals, sprint down the longest terminal hallway of my life (we're talking 50+ gates I passed on my way) to arrive 1 MINUTE after they make the boarding announcement. I am told as I breathlessly argue with the agent at the gate that I must be present before the boarding announcement (code for they had already given away my seat). Argh, I thought, I had run all that way for nothing. Oh well, I consoled myself, there's still that later flight I'm on.

But better check to be sure it's in order right? It is now 6:30pm. I have been in an airport since 10am. I go to the United Desk, moving between Terminal B and Terminal D. They inform me that the flight is in fact US airways, so I have to speak with their agents at Terminal Z. US Airways then tells me my flight is actually United after all, so go back to B. Oh, but the original booking was with American Airlines, so check with them at C. Except American just moved recently, now they're at B.

Seven shuttles between terminals later... Nerves and patience worn completely raw, I drag myself up to the American Airlines desk. It is now 9:00, and the flight I am supposed to be on leaves at 9:50pm. At this point I am informed that my seat was protected on a non-existent flight - i.e. I have no flight period. One significant meltdown later, the incredibly helpful American Airlines travel agent booked me a flight for 2pm the next day, and better yet gave me priority standby on an 8am flight, which under the circumstances was the absolute best he could do.

So yes, I hung out the entire night at the airport. All the shops close at nine, in case you were wondering. I napped intermittently (cursing the inventor of airport benches with non-reclinable armrests!) but the terminal was really drafty, so eventually I took refuge in the chapel. Which was toasty, well lit, and already occupied by a family of four and a mid-fifties couple up front. Far better napping conditions, as the chairs there were armrest free, so you could stretch out some.

Many hours later, finally had some food when restaurants reopened and then lurked next to the boarding of the 8am flight, hungrily awaiting the moment to pounce on the travel agent for any standby seats. I got the only one that came up and was happily on the plane by 8am. Beautiful, things are going my way right?

Except if you think it was hard to figure out which flight I was on, you can imagine how difficult it was to figure out which plane my bag was on.

Not as interesting a story, so I'll sum up with me arriving Saturday at 1pm and my bag getting to the hostel as of 8pm tonight (Sunday). Mick was particularly generous in sharing towel, soap and backpack space in the meantime.

L.A. is pretty well exactly what I thought it would be. Observations: there's a whole lot of sky here because most houses are bungalows. There's an oil refinery in the middle of the city. You need a lot of money to live here - the houses are either lovely Spanish colonials or one room boxes with lids (you really couldn't call them roofs). Hollywood walk of stars has way more people I've never heard of than people that I have. Walking is wishful thinking; everyone drives so the distances between places to go to are really far. I got a sunburn on my face already.

Santa Monica and Venice Beach were lovely, though full of people peddling various wares and causes.



I'm off to Mexico tomorrow morning. Upside: most travel annoyances will seem mild in comparison to the past 48 hours.

Happy New Year!