LAX

Los Angelus Airport.

I FUCKING HATE the place.

I will be including a number of inflammatory words and links in the attempt to make this blog noteworthy to the American Government and so get my complaint letter on record by any means necessary.

George Bush, Death threat, Saddam Hussein.

The thing about passing through America on your way to somewhere else is that a while ago, some terrorists flew some of their planes into some of their buildings. This is very very very sad. And as a result they are conscious of security the way I am often conscious of my head after drinking nine bottles of wine.

Jihad, Osama Bin Laden, 9/11.

That's fair enough. Now it's quite frustrating that the response to this terrorism hangover is that, on a stopover, from one country to the next, I need to clear immigration, have my photo taken, get fingerprinted, collect all of my luggage, clear customs and go and check it all the fuck back in, clear security, get xrayed and finally go to my shitty departure lounge because LAX was built before a single person in America had any notion of class, comfort or style. But that's the price you pay for transiting in the States and the upside is it increases your luggage allowance.

Terrorism, National security, Suicide bomber.

However.

Iraq, Afghanistan, Vietnam.

They seem to have a further obligation to make this process as frustrating as possible.

War, Attack, Invasion.

So on my way home I had a three and a half hour stopover in LAX. 'Ah' I thought, 'I will stock up on books in Barnes and Noble'(books are weirdly expensive in NZ), 'I will visit MAC and MAX my credit card, I will investigate the shops for a present for Dee Bee's birthday.'

Day of reckoning, American infidels, Communism.

No no and no.

Bomb, explosion, incendary device.

I'll have to tell this in installments. I'm getting too angry.