Red Carpet Club, Los Angeles International
Ahh—a nice crisp, cold glass of Chardonnay. Well, cheap Chardonnay, but anyway it’s cold. I’m still sitting here in the Red Carpet Club and as I posted earlier it’s rather busy here. All I could hear were middle-aged white guys chatting on their cell phones about.. well I didn’t really care what, actually. So, I thought that I would try out all my little gadgets while I’m in here. I’m already on the Internet thanks to a little wireless company called Boingo.
I pulled out my new little ear-bud headphones and loaded up Windows Media Player and now all I hear is Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 17. It’s blaring away and a truly amazing piece. Divine really. It’s like sitting here in the midst of commotion and chaos and feeling like I’m in a dream. I can still see their mouths moving, but all I hear is Mozart! Anyone finding this as amusing as I am?
One more before we go
I think that I may have time for one more glass of wine before I have to pack up…
I came back to my favourite spot and realized that someone else had taken it which really was fine because I needed to find a place that I could charge up my battery anyway.
I sit down, plug my computer in and before I’m able to explore the room with Mozart again I overhead the most absurd conversation. This guy is talking on the phone… in a rather low-voice, hushed tones, but a having an intense conversation. Something about, “Well, I hope you’re happy.” That sort of thing. Anyway, before I can take out my headphones, I’ve been listening to this for about five minutes or so. Blah, blah, blah, he goes and I’m trying to ignore it, then he says; “By the way, do you know where my Cheetos went?” Naturally, it catches my attention. I’m thinking you can’t really be pissed off about your Cheetos, can you? Well, then he goes on a moment longer and I hear, “chino’s!” but still, what a dumb thing to fight about.
He finishes his conversion, hangs up and says, “Whatever.”
I hope I’m not the only one having fun here.
I’m so excited that I can hardly contain myself and these people are discussing meetings with their bosses and fighting over-processed snack-foods full of partially hydrogenated oils made by huge American conglomerates.
My flight’s on time. I’m out of here and off to gate 74.