My Adventure in LA
So, as some of you know, I've been on the "Neverending Business Trip" (tm). I get to go home tomorrow (yay!), but in the process of doing that I got to have a bit of an adventure. I might ramble a bit, but hey, it's fun and I think it's an entertaining story. :)
LA Traffic is a story in and of itself, so I won't go into it. Suffice to say after many trials, and fighting of dragons (I mean idiots, I mean other cars) I made it to the [hotel name redacted]. (The [nicer hotel name redacted] was booked, so here I am). I checked in, no troubles. It was when I went to return my rental car that things got interesting.
I needed to fill my car up with gas. I stopped at a gas station that's right next to my hotel. The strange thing is that there's no slot to insert your credit card on the pump. Instead, there's this ATM-like thing in between the pumps. I had to ask someone how it worked. Apparently, you use the ATM-thing to pay for gas with cash or with a debit card. If you want to use credit, you have to go inside. I shrug and go inside. I have to *leave* my credit card with the attendant, go fill up, then go back inside to get charged for the gas and get my credit card back.
I think "odd", but I do that, fill up, and go off to the rental car return. I had no issues with the return or getting to the airport. I went down to baggage claim so I could find the shuttle to the hotel. I find it and get on. I'm the only one on the bus and the driver's pretty happy that he has someone to talk to. We drive past several terminals, then we get to the international terminal. There's this group of folks wearing the same t-shirt (tour group!) who are trying to wave us down. However, LAX has designated zones to pick up people and the driver can't stop where the tour group wants us to so he waves at them to move down to the next area.
Then I discover that I am not on a bus. I am in a Brazilian clown car. With luggage. And so many people I have no idea how they all fit on board.
The driver's despairing as he tries to tell them to wait a second while he tries to arrange luggage. Each one of these people have two pieces of large luggage. There's got to be about fifty of them.
We finally get the Brazillian clowns on board (They have Brazil on their t-shirts, and some sort of motor car Tour thing) with all their luggage, though some is in the aisles (which is illegal in LA, and would've caused our driver to get a ticket if a cop saw us). Right behind the tour group are two additional people who want to go to the second hotel this shuttle services, too.
We are beyond full. If you look in the dictionary under overloaded, you'd see a picture of this bus. Alas (and alack), the driver decides to let these additional two people on board as well. Might as well, right? Clown car! Er bus.
About fifteen minutes after we stopped at the international terminal, the driver does an acrobatic move to jump over the luggage to get to his seat, and we're finally on our way. (Apparently it's a code 7 at the international terminal, per the driver contacting dispatch).
The Brazilian guys are all going to my hotel. We get to the hotel, and I bail as fast as I can so I can avoid the insanity.
And that was my adventure.
LA Traffic is a story in and of itself, so I won't go into it. Suffice to say after many trials, and fighting of dragons (I mean idiots, I mean other cars) I made it to the [hotel name redacted]. (The [nicer hotel name redacted] was booked, so here I am). I checked in, no troubles. It was when I went to return my rental car that things got interesting.
I needed to fill my car up with gas. I stopped at a gas station that's right next to my hotel. The strange thing is that there's no slot to insert your credit card on the pump. Instead, there's this ATM-like thing in between the pumps. I had to ask someone how it worked. Apparently, you use the ATM-thing to pay for gas with cash or with a debit card. If you want to use credit, you have to go inside. I shrug and go inside. I have to *leave* my credit card with the attendant, go fill up, then go back inside to get charged for the gas and get my credit card back.
I think "odd", but I do that, fill up, and go off to the rental car return. I had no issues with the return or getting to the airport. I went down to baggage claim so I could find the shuttle to the hotel. I find it and get on. I'm the only one on the bus and the driver's pretty happy that he has someone to talk to. We drive past several terminals, then we get to the international terminal. There's this group of folks wearing the same t-shirt (tour group!) who are trying to wave us down. However, LAX has designated zones to pick up people and the driver can't stop where the tour group wants us to so he waves at them to move down to the next area.
Then I discover that I am not on a bus. I am in a Brazilian clown car. With luggage. And so many people I have no idea how they all fit on board.
The driver's despairing as he tries to tell them to wait a second while he tries to arrange luggage. Each one of these people have two pieces of large luggage. There's got to be about fifty of them.
We finally get the Brazillian clowns on board (They have Brazil on their t-shirts, and some sort of motor car Tour thing) with all their luggage, though some is in the aisles (which is illegal in LA, and would've caused our driver to get a ticket if a cop saw us). Right behind the tour group are two additional people who want to go to the second hotel this shuttle services, too.
We are beyond full. If you look in the dictionary under overloaded, you'd see a picture of this bus. Alas (and alack), the driver decides to let these additional two people on board as well. Might as well, right? Clown car! Er bus.
About fifteen minutes after we stopped at the international terminal, the driver does an acrobatic move to jump over the luggage to get to his seat, and we're finally on our way. (Apparently it's a code 7 at the international terminal, per the driver contacting dispatch).
The Brazilian guys are all going to my hotel. We get to the hotel, and I bail as fast as I can so I can avoid the insanity.
And that was my adventure.