Travel Log Blog: Episode One: There Are No Stars in L.A.

Expecting my solid day of cross-country traveling after a 21st birthday party to be mildly to undeniably humorous, an inspiration of mine suggested I keep a travel log. Well, I did and here it is in all its authenticity:

12:30 AM - Dan and myself talked about all there is to talk about, once again, until this point. He has an early morning class tomorrow (today?) and I should get a couple hours of shuteye before my ridiculously timed airport shuttle pickup. Today was a good day, but it was long and started too early. Hopefully tomorrow will be similar...by which I mean "today."

1:30 AM - Just kidding. I checked my email again for some reason and circled the inter-web for nigh on 60 minutes. I'll get to the end of Wikipedia later this week. So tired though.

2:30 AM - Woke up as quickly as I feel asleep. You hear a sound so offensive it knock you into the present. The cell phone alarm is off before I know where I am. I have everything ready to go, but won't pack this notebook.

3:30 AM - The shuttle bus picked me up and one other guy who could probably be me in a different universe. He asked me where I'm from, and I said "Lawrence, Kansas." I don't think I've ever said that before.

4:00 AM - At LAX already. Just waiting in line to go through security. The guy in front of me looks like Gary Oldman. That would also explain why nobody is talking to him.

4:30 AM - The security guards took my toothpaste but let me keep my harmonica. Yeah, I got patted down, but I appreciated the human contact. Also, forget body scanners, they undressed me with their eyes--I could feel it. Physically I'm tired again but expect a third or fourth wind to kick in later tonight, I mean last night, I mean this morning. Whatever.

5:00 AM - Bored in the terminal. Legs are sore. A little hungry but I'm not about to pay four American dollars for a bagel. I wonder if my deep eyes keep me from ever looking suspicious. I don't remember being patted down when I looked like the Unibomber's bohemian nephew.

6:00 AM - About to finally leave this stink town. Nah, I like L.A., so I understand why so few people are on this plane. Maybe one-third full? Also, according to Sky Mall, I need a personal oxygen bar.

8:00 AM - My foot has cramped up some 35,000 ft in the air; but I am on Mountain Time now--speaking of which, "Mountain Time" would be a sweet name for a pro wrestler.

To Be Continued...