Gally 2013 blurry phone photo report, part one: blurries and tired feels
I'm going to forget to tell you stuff. I know I'm going to forget to tell you stuff.
Always get an aisle seat. Cabin air is disgustingly dry, so it's always a good idea to pick up an overpriced one-litre bottle of water in the departure lounge, and the last thing anyone wants is for you to be smooshing past them every twenty minutes because you're busting for a pee. It's half past eight in the morning, and I am on absolutely no sleep whatsoever.
I am now on half an hour of sleep, and have landed in Los Angeles. After some discussion with an airport employee in which he tried his darnedest to convince me not to try and take the bus when I could just catch a cab, I was pointed in the direction of the local bus depot, which it turns out was across a parking lot from the terminal, and the parking lot was so huge, it took another bus about ten minutes to get there.
Compulsory shot of palm trees
Catching the bus was a lot easier than anyone would have you believe. I did try to tell the man at LAX that if I'd successfully negotiated my way around as many other places as I have, I can surely negotiate a twenty-minute bus ride into El Segundo.
This kid looks about 18, and he's carrying flowers and a giant cuddly bear, and he's clearly in his best shirt. Some young lady or gentleman had better appreciate his romantic efforts, bless.
Wandered around El Segundo shopping centre a bit, managed what might have been a moderate sunburn, bought pyjamas and a frivolous $70 shirt from Anthropologie. This Miss Brown was in fairly desperate need of sitting down for a good half hour or so with a mocha and free wifi. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Whole Foods! Filled up on free samples of cheese and found that those cuddly 1960s monsters from Snowdonia Tibet have branched out into fruit and vegetable farming. Good for them! The blood oranges and cameo apples were delish. Loaded up on ciabatta buns and had a bit of lovely brie and Icelandic yoghurt for a quiet alfresco lunch, which I enjoyed while listening to a feelsy Gallifrey audio, because clearly I like torturing myself.
Lobby! Arrived sometime mid-afternoon after an obnoxiously long walk and basically just sat and blogged until Brosephine and her friends arrived to check into the room and decompress a bit before heading back down to attempt to circulate/party. Thursday night was good; ran into a lot of beloved friends I hadn't seen since last year, and was introduced to a couple new ones. Distributed some Classic Who tea to some lovely people. Things were off to a good start.
My Doctor! Nice guy, fabulous coat. So glad to run into a Sixie when I was Peri.
HOW THE FUCK IS IT $12 FOR A SINGLE AMARETTO AND COKE? Are you fucking my face, hotel sports bar? Sam and I waited about six years for the bartender to notice we were without drinks, and then he sort of gave us this... look like he was genuinely surprised we were over 21. Dude, I'm like 30. Stop. (Later on in the weekend, it was only after about 10 minutes and Tony Lee had to flag down the bartender for me, but I think Mr. Barkeep made up for it by making my gin and tonic about five parts gin and one part tonic. LORD)
Compulsory shot of Peri Brown's leggies, complete with fancy (and, after a ton of schlepping, an airplane, and a ton more schlepping around, really uncomfortable) turquoise patent leather shoes. Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
There ought to be, with any luck, a handful of decent-er quality film photos forthcoming, as well as the silly photo studio portraits of me with a handful of delightful people, because I am a big dork. Should I be worried that they haven't emailed me the JPEGs yet?
Always get an aisle seat. Cabin air is disgustingly dry, so it's always a good idea to pick up an overpriced one-litre bottle of water in the departure lounge, and the last thing anyone wants is for you to be smooshing past them every twenty minutes because you're busting for a pee. It's half past eight in the morning, and I am on absolutely no sleep whatsoever.
I am now on half an hour of sleep, and have landed in Los Angeles. After some discussion with an airport employee in which he tried his darnedest to convince me not to try and take the bus when I could just catch a cab, I was pointed in the direction of the local bus depot, which it turns out was across a parking lot from the terminal, and the parking lot was so huge, it took another bus about ten minutes to get there.
Compulsory shot of palm trees
Catching the bus was a lot easier than anyone would have you believe. I did try to tell the man at LAX that if I'd successfully negotiated my way around as many other places as I have, I can surely negotiate a twenty-minute bus ride into El Segundo.
This kid looks about 18, and he's carrying flowers and a giant cuddly bear, and he's clearly in his best shirt. Some young lady or gentleman had better appreciate his romantic efforts, bless.
Wandered around El Segundo shopping centre a bit, managed what might have been a moderate sunburn, bought pyjamas and a frivolous $70 shirt from Anthropologie. This Miss Brown was in fairly desperate need of sitting down for a good half hour or so with a mocha and free wifi. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Whole Foods! Filled up on free samples of cheese and found that those cuddly 1960s monsters from Snowdonia Tibet have branched out into fruit and vegetable farming. Good for them! The blood oranges and cameo apples were delish. Loaded up on ciabatta buns and had a bit of lovely brie and Icelandic yoghurt for a quiet alfresco lunch, which I enjoyed while listening to a feelsy Gallifrey audio, because clearly I like torturing myself.
Lobby! Arrived sometime mid-afternoon after an obnoxiously long walk and basically just sat and blogged until Brosephine and her friends arrived to check into the room and decompress a bit before heading back down to attempt to circulate/party. Thursday night was good; ran into a lot of beloved friends I hadn't seen since last year, and was introduced to a couple new ones. Distributed some Classic Who tea to some lovely people. Things were off to a good start.
My Doctor! Nice guy, fabulous coat. So glad to run into a Sixie when I was Peri.
HOW THE FUCK IS IT $12 FOR A SINGLE AMARETTO AND COKE? Are you fucking my face, hotel sports bar? Sam and I waited about six years for the bartender to notice we were without drinks, and then he sort of gave us this... look like he was genuinely surprised we were over 21. Dude, I'm like 30. Stop. (Later on in the weekend, it was only after about 10 minutes and Tony Lee had to flag down the bartender for me, but I think Mr. Barkeep made up for it by making my gin and tonic about five parts gin and one part tonic. LORD)
Compulsory shot of Peri Brown's leggies, complete with fancy (and, after a ton of schlepping, an airplane, and a ton more schlepping around, really uncomfortable) turquoise patent leather shoes. Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
There ought to be, with any luck, a handful of decent-er quality film photos forthcoming, as well as the silly photo studio portraits of me with a handful of delightful people, because I am a big dork. Should I be worried that they haven't emailed me the JPEGs yet?