So on January fifth of twenty eleven, I finally got the fuck out of Minnesota after a good ten or something years. I was headed to Anaheim and Los Angeles in Cali. This is the first time flying in a good while, probably before my parents died, because the last time I flew was for a trip in and around Southeast Asia.
This is what I wore to the airport with the Scion carry-on that was given by them as a perk to being a partner with them. The second shot is of the long corridor of mall kiosks and shops, international hustlers of America.
This was about eight dollar or something. It was pretty small of a portion. I grabbed it because I wanted to eat something before getting on the long flight to Cali. It was lo mein with pepper beef and some chili oil on the side in the back there and a glass of water. I drink water if given the option over pop, much healthier and cheaper, especially free things. The second photo is the gate I waited a few hours for. I arrived real early because I did not know what to expect, especially with the new inspection lawsand security checks and shit since September eleven.
I played around with the exposure and over exposed the picture a bit here. The second is more accurate as the sun sat quite early and I watched day turn to night while listening to Mellowhype and Oddfuture on the laptop through an alternating current jack outlet pillar.
Come fly with me. I got a wing
This is part two, as I landed in Phoenix and take my flight there to Long Beach Airport. I will never get use to the eardrum popping pressurizing of air travel, hate it. The first picture is this long corridor that I had to go through to rush to my connecting flight when of all things it becomes an hour late, lovely. The second photo is me posted up and my view from my laptop and floor by the wall socket.
So there this pretty bad-ass Buddhist monk in a all orange outfit, including the toque/beanie, and some black Payless looking shoes with a Bluetooth headset speaking Khmer through it. I do not know if he knew I was eavesdropping or not, whatever though.
The late terminal digital sign and me posted in Zone 4, Gucci Mane's zone, according to the ticket.
Random crotch shot and the Phoenix airport cart. Obviously they chose a 'phoenix' for their bird logo of course.
Sky high. The cities are amazing from the sky view. This is just one example. Imagine California's with lights EVERYWHERE at night and little car whipping here and there along the routes.
Long Beach Airport, also known as LGB. This short two or three terminal airport was empty when I arrived around ten or so, Pacific standard time. The guy to the right here is pretty dapper with his button up and duck boots on. I think he was being flown in for Agenda as well or just stylish.
So I was supposed to be picked up by this guy from Orange County, but he fell asleep and woke up to text me "Yo, I fell asleep, I'm sorry" at five in the morning after. Good. Thanks. That did not help me in any way texting me at that early of a time.
I ended up taking a taxi from the airport to the closest rail, which ended up being sixteen bucks or so. The driver tried to be slick and get an extra two dollars letting the meter run while he was writing the invoice slip. I went what the fuck. I made him change it and left. I paid for my rail and hopped on. That rail is pretty dope, but prehistoric in comparison to our light rail in Minneapolis. I ran into a bum the first half hour out there along with a cross-dresser. The bum left all upset because me and other riders did not have any spare change for him, that ingracious for living fucktart.
This is the rail. The door was cool because of the Japanese on it. This dude was knocked the fuck out and eventually did not wake up until the end of the route.
This was cool, the bikes. I encountered many Mexicans, which is expected. Cycling is very common in the city, along with skateboards. I wish it was sunny or dry already in Minneapolis, so this could be the image again. Crotch.
Dirty mirror mirror shot here with the riders I was by, with the whole train all empty. Check out the fake Dubz.
Slauson. Slauson swap meet. Apparently a ghetto part of Los Angeles. The intercom, ha-ha, so old.
The details on the Japanese writing, Made In Japan, Sleepy Bum.
This is the trippy patter on the seats and that cross dresser I encountered. He caught me taking pics it seems.
Maps and routes of where things go for rails and their color coding.
This is a burrito truck that was across the street from Kelly's. I got the super burrito there. It was amazing and put Chipotle to shame, along with my stomach in the morning. It was a lot of food and so many variations and the toppings were fresh.
Here is the view of the complexes that Kelly stayed in. My wireless adapters would not connect to the wireless network that was at Kelly's place with my netbook or iPhone. This sucked. I ended up using Denis's laptop the whole time I was there which required the adapter because her battery is dead and broken, since it does not even get recognized by the operating system hardware manager.