By John Hillan, aged 22 1/4
Yesterday and today, I have mainly been doing the very blatent touristy things.
- I have learned to curse loudly at the mention of the Immigration and Naturalization Servce (2 and a half hours queuing to get through immigration in Dulles. Bastards.).
- I have learned never to believe it when a pilot says that the minor problem will be fixed when they start the No.2 engine (2 and a half hours spent on the tarmac in Dulles while they replaced a pressure valve on the water system).
- I have learned to curse the choice of inflight entertainment on United Airlines (when BBC hardtalk is the highlight in about 18 hours of viewing, you know it’s bad).
- I have learned to curse the mention of Washington Dulles airport, which I shall now refer to by it’s actual name: That fucking inept excuse for an airport near the city that was formerly a malarial swamp. Oh, and did anyone consider fixing the air con? I mean, malarial swamps tend to be a little FUCKING HOT in August, you know?
On the other hand, I have learned to appreciate the seats on United. It may be the lowest class, but they are still spacious enough for me not to have chewed my own leg off during the flight, which was a worry the last time I flew to the States.
San Francisco seems to be a good place. Alcatraz is pretty cool, as is Angel Island. Have yet to do the tram cars and that, but have been thrown about a bus on the roads that Bullitt, the Rock, etc were filmed on. Which is nice.
And I’m now in a State that may soon have the Terminator as it’s Govenor. How cool is that?
And now I’m away to bed some sleep. Because I’ve slept something like six hours in the last sixty two. ‘Night all.