I wake up early anticipating the drive in LA morning
traffic. My GPS estimates that a 20 mile drive will take me 45 minutes; I
double that and give myself nearly an hour and a half. It’s 65 degrees at 7:30,
and the sun is shining bright. I can see the ocean in the distance now that
there’s light, and drive through a sea of strip malls, chain restaurants, and
sunglass-ed humans on my way to the freeway. I hit the freeway and immediately
know that this commute could prove difficult; traffic is stop-and-go (mostly
stop), and my GPS continues to add expected time onto my journey.
The interview starts at 9am, and at 8:45am I am calling the
Training Director to let her know that I am a victim of LA motor vehicle
sharkery. I leave a message and hope for the best. After parking in the paid
garage, I arrive at the interview over 20 minutes late. The Training Director
is gracious and jokes that they should warn interns to double their commute
time.
After the interview, I travel back to LAX yet again to hop a
plane to Dallas Texas. I’ve decided that I will be taking a break from changing
in airports for a long while after this process. Still, I am happy to have my
car this week to act as storage in between flights. I am able to condense my
things down to a backpack and a garment bag for these tiny out-of-state
excursions. I am also learning how to pack more efficiently than I ever have
before.
I arrive in Dallas at nearly 10pm and again have rented a
car. One car rental man warns me that
Dallas is full of toll roads that do not accept cash or credit for fees (they
operate on a Fastrak-like system, and if rentals run through they, the charge
is absurd). He hands me a map a says “good luck.” The second car rental guy
attempts to hit on me, but fails miserably.
I set out on the road and notice that Dallas looks like a
mini Las Vegas at night from both the plane and the ground (is that a Trump
tower?!? It looks like the Emerald City). Frankly, I am not so thrilled to be
in Texas, but I try to remain open-minded and allow it to win me over. But when
I get to the area where my hotel is, I am surrounded by several Gentlemen’s
Clubs, “massage parlors,” and fast food restaurants. This place certainly isn’t
winning me over.
In all of my travels, Dallas was the most expensive city for
both hotels and car rentals (nearly double the price when compared to other
major metropolises). I found a semi-reasonable hotel semi-close to the VA, but
now I see why. I’m super hungry and find the one late night Mexican spot that
looks acceptable enough to run into and out of, and I’m out of there in a
flash.
The hotel parking lot includes several lifted trucks. I
check in with the front desk woman, who looks like she’s seen better days. I
wonder if she used to work in the industry around here; if so, I’m happy for
her that she got out. She’s super sweet and invites me to use the pool if I’d
like despite it being after hours. I regret not bringing my suit, but am also
looking forward to watching bad reality TV in my room.
I take the elevator up to the third floor with a middle-aged
cowboy who kindly lets me off first. It occurs to me that it’s late, we are on
the same floor of the hotel, and there is no opening to the main hotel lobby
(aka no one to hear me scream if he attacks me). I immediately turn and walk in
the opposite direction of him until I hear him enter his room. I then travel
back to my own room, which is next-ish to his.
This is the second night in a row I’ve eaten a burrito after
10pm, watched bad TV, and fallen hard asleep in something between a food coma
and pure, delirious exhaustion. I’m fine with that.
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| LAX |
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| This is my "I don't want to leave this weather" face |
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| Dallas from above |
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| Cool artwork in the Love Field airport |
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