Tag Archives: Los Angeles

Oh Hey, BA

Good news first. The Carmichaels are in residence here:

from Frey to faraway (mrscarmichael)
from Frey to faraway (mrscarmichael)

And from another perspective:

from faraway to Albert Frey (mrscarmichael)
from faraway to Albert Frey (mrscarmichael)

Oh Lordy, I’m in heaven. Now. The getting to God’s pasture wasn’t pretty.

Stage the first

British Airways has a new fleet of planes. Don’t ask me the model. They are shorter and stumpier than 747’s and have two stories. The leg room is good and the pillow headrest most acceptable also.

Most importantly, the plane got us to LAX safely. In the end that is all one wants from an airline. Are we agreed? Ten out of ten for that biggy, BA. Tick,vg.

The niceties of transit were, however sorely lacking.

The lavatories

The lack of loos in our compartment, interesting. One toilet to service 100 plus passengers, more than interesting. To get to conveniences at the back requires a shuffle through the galley. And we all know how much flight attendants enjoy our company in the galley, don’t we? Ah me.

The comestibles

Hmmmm. My recommendation – don’t board this flight hungry. And yes, we are talking steerage here.

“There are an exact number of sandwich boxes,” H………, my stewardess informed me when I requested Mr Carmichael’s and my own miniature chicken caesar sandwich (thick crusts still attached). “You have to chose the chicken caesar or the vegetarian. You can’t have both.” Implication – you greedy pig.

Double hmmmm – and if I can chose surely there must be an excess of something. Apparently not.

“What’s that?” a just woken passenger asked of the selfsame H……. as she thrust the minuscule, crust laden sandwich box in his face.

“Food,” she replied loudly and with rough vigour. Oh and ever so slightly rudely too.

The flight attendants

Hmmmmmmm mmm m. Obviously, I cannot speak for the other sectioned seating but if I told you that, unrecovered from from my sandwich slighting and faint with hunger, I was forced to glean the following while strapped in for landing………..

H……… was very tired. No, seriously, really really tired.

Yes, yours truly prefers that it be H……. and not the pilot who needs to catch up on her Zeds but still. Isn’t she supposed to take charge in an emergency? Surely she should be our rock, our guiding light on landing. Not our night light.

H’s Tiffany ring cost £210.00

Interesting? Not really. She and her bench colleague tried each others rings on a multitude of times.

H…….. was engaged but broke the engagement off two days before the wedding. But they’re still friends. And no, he is not married. Implication – he’s not over her.

This was quite a lengthy story and took up most of the above LA holding pattern.

H……… didn’t think she’d like B….. (another stewardess on our flight) but actually she had turned out to be ok (as far as H……. was concerned anyway). As has D……., actually.

Thank goodness for that. I would hate to think there was no one to party with at the hotel.

L is gay but R…… turns out to be straight. This is a surprise to H…….. because she assumes all her male colleagues are gay.

Too simple, H………. Life is never that straightforward.

H…….. has been driven to smoking by her job. 

Nice to know that a) flying really is scary or b) we, her clients really are obnoxious or c) H…… really needs to smoke to stay awake or d) all three.

At this point my intelligence gathering was cut short by noises off. In the parallel aisle a makeup be-slathered BA crew member was shouting at a hapless guest as he rushed to the single toilet, a desperate look blighting his phizog.

I am pleased to report that he ignored her.

We, unfortunately could not because she still had plenty to yell across our heads about him to anyone listening down the far end of the cabin. After some gesticulation and much eye raising she ceased her rant and cross checked the doors.

interlude (mrscarmichael)
interlude (mrscarmichael)

Sorry, just had to put this image of nature’s glory in to calm myself down.

Stage the second

This bit will come as no surprise to LAites, I fear. Our projected journey of two hours, give or take, to Palm Springs took more like four, yes four, in stop/start traffic. Horror. I was as tired as H……. or perhaps even a little bit more than H……., if that were possible. Thinking about it, while we were stuck on the I10 dodging pot holes, H….. was probably having a pre nap fag.

At least we were in this behemoth:

hello big boy (mrscarmichael)
hello big boy (mrscarmichael)

But we’re here now:

you are my sunshine (mrscarmichael)
you are my sunshine (mrscarmichael)

And life’s just swell.






Weekly Photo Challenge (Horizon)

Mr and Mrs Carmichael finished up their three city trifecta in the city of angels, at the foot of the Hollywood Hills on Sunset Boulevard.

We had a great room with a great view. It took in Sunset, the sea and the city. We watched the stream of planes land at LAX as we drank the left overs from Palm Springs. We could see for miles and miles. I found myself snapping this particular horizon at all times of the day and night.

A few of the best:

Sunset and sauvignon (mrscarmichael)
Sunset and sauvignon (mrscarmichael)
Off to sunny Santa Monica (mrscarmichael)
Off to sunny Santa Monica (mrscarmichael)
Channeling Bob and the Silver Bullet Band (mrscarmichael)
Channeling Bob and the Silver Bullet Band (mrscarmichael)