In Flight Entertainment - New Zealand 2007

In Flight Entertainment

My flight to LA brought great wonder and amazement. I have never experienced the delight of free cable television en route. Yes I know, nothing that wondrous or even amazing, yet this was something to occupy my four hours of free time. I had finished my book. I was so screwed.

I watched many pilot episodes on TV. These shows, consisting mostly of new comedy works, were trying to claw their way into the stigma of the American public. I love pure good old-fashioned American Television. Within thirty minutes of subjecting my eyes to the polluted capitalist morals and US Army happy advertisements on NBC, I grew tired and wished to draw my head away from the box of obtuse. Still, with all the effort I possessed, I was unable to force my eyes to retreat. I was consumed with network entertainment.

I try to live in a harmony with the world around me and I try to subject my eyes to sources of nurturing information such as newspapers (ultra left wing to ultra right wing). I’ve had no use of a television for many months, but like a moth drawn to the flame, I could not overt my eyes. I was a deer in the headlights. The hours quickly followed and I was ready to order some in-flight gifts because TV told me to. TV tells me many things. TV tells me to buy things. TV tells me to join the US Army.

The rest of my flight was uneventful until our flight made its way to the outskirts of Los Angeles. As we flew overhead, I started picking out suburbs from Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and I spotted CJ’s hood (only people who played the game has any idea what I am talking about) Nobody really understood why I was laughing to myself as I traced routes of GTA missions.

My favorite moment was when I spied the HOLLYWOOD sign off in the distance. The white splendor of the letters, caressing the contours of the mountain. If I died at that very moment, I would have been a happy man. Sad huh?

We landed right on time and as I was making my way to the international terminal, I stopped to take a picture of the first palm tree I have ever seen.

Chicago (waiting) - New Zealand 2007

I spent my waiting time in the American Airline's lounge next to my boarding gate. I watched business associates cram around the wireless Internet hubs, I watched travel weary individuals freak out on the unsuspecting employees at the Burger King kiosk. I watched CNN on TV and updated myself with the latest death tolls in Iraq. I watched interviews with senior White House officials. I immediately became depressed and wished for my plane to arrive to rescue me from this dreary atmosphere. I watched a young child throw her drink all over the surrounding seats and the surrounding people who had occupied them. My mind was a wash with the chaos of the terminal.

It was at this moment that I felt a slight tug on the strap of my portfolio bag (man purse). To my surprise and dismay, a young punk around the age of thirteen was trying to claim my baggage as my own. I gave the bag one good tug and rescued my possessions from his grip and with an intimidating and angry stare from my eyes; the punk kid wished me a wonderful and fruitful day, then skipped away (actually he told me to go fuck myself and then flipped my the bird but I preferred my imagination). I had to get out of here.

I spent the next forty-five minutes watching my baggage like a hawk looking over prime hunting grounds. I could not believe the citizens that were surrounding me and I could not stomach the total anger and negative disposition of my fellow passengers. Was this just a bad day, or were all American’s so unfriendly?

Chicago - New Zealand 2007

A few hours later, we descended from the clouds to unveil the great city of Chicago. I again kept my amazed eyes glued to my window as we slowly descended. I was amazed of the vastness and sheer size of Chicago. As I flew over the downtown core I thought of Elliot Ness and Al Capone, The Chicago Cubs and White Socks, The Chicago Blackhawks, and the great gray and blue cloud of pollution hanging over the city.

My first landing was met with ripples of fear and anticipation as my adrenalin started pumping like a dose of ice-cold water to the veins. We descended with great speed and since I was unsure of the process involved with landing an aircraft, I was frightened beyond all belief. It was like the first time I had the pleasure to ride a really good roller coaster with an intimidating drop of several hundred feet. I held my breath, grasp the arms of my seat and prayed to the gods for a favorable outcome. As the wheels hit the runway I knew I was finally safe, but only relinquished my grasp on my seat only after the plane came to a complete stop.

I was happy now. I had escaped death and I had shaved two hours off my twenty-four hour trip. I entered the Chicago O’Hare airport with great amazement. This facility was instantly five or six times the size of Ottawa’s flight facility. I was a visitor in the country, a visitor from a foreign land and I was instantly treated a second-class citizen. You have to love the Americans.

I lined up to enter customs. There I waited and waited. I was like everyone else in line, waiting for the only two customs agents to finish their conversation and acknowledge the 21 travel weary travelers who had just arrived from Canada. Naturally, I had to wait because the cover of Vogue magazine was more interesting them us. (Mind you it was another fashion magazine I just failed to obtain the name so I guess Vogue is a good enough substitute) Finally one of our traveling companions decided to play the “clearing of the throat game” and finally the customs agents (with great distain for being forced to do their jobs) conceded to reality and allowed us to finally enter the country.

The woman glanced at my passport and then at me. She then instantly handed my passport back to me and waved me through. Not one word was spoken between us. This is what I call top security. American tax dollars at work. I later realized that my baggage was being transferred for me and I was worry free about obtaining my baggage until Los Angeles. I was so happy, less complications is equal to less stress, this country boy has had enough excitement.

I now had to wait another hour and I again would be boarding a plane destined to the west coast of the United States. Los Angeles, here I come.