Heading Back
In the smoking bar at the airport. Smoking. Security was a breeze. They harassed some older couple, made a woman take off her jewelry. I don't have to check my bag, so that should take some of the sting out of returning to LAX. I think I have mastered the Tica way of greeting, a quiet 'buena,' seems to do the trick with people behind a desk. This means of course that I am very early for my flight. As opposed to America though, I can go downstairs to the smoking bar with the other outcasts.
It could be crowded with 20 more people, but it's manageable at the moment. The smokeaters are pretty noisy, competing with Gwen Stephanie and the low grumble of the crowd. Light gray tile flooring, brushed stainless bar and tables with blue accents and blue walls, white ceiling with a skylight being the only light source. It's a strange atmosphere, almost reminiscent of a Sky vodka advertisement, which they curiously don’t have on display next to the other bottles on the wall.
Most of the music is a mix of old and new stuff from the States, plenty of seventies disco and funk. I spent almost exactly the amount of money that I brought with me, except for being 4 dollars short for the exit taxes: $26 to leave the country. There are funny stories hinted at about people that didn't save enough dough to get out, so I borrowed a twenty from Mari. When I return I can bring the news that they now take Visa.
I don't see a clock anywhere and I'm relying on the laptop to tell me when to go, which I hope hasn't decided to change time zones on its own since I set it to local. Just to be safe, I'll sign off now. I wouldn't mind another day here, but I would feel kind of dumb were I to blow it two days in a row.
Break
Made it. Had a passable filet mignon on the flight, with onions mixed with some cheesy sauce. They had cheesy bread too, and hot fudge and butterscotch over vanilla ice cream with nuts and whipped cream. I passed on the nuts because they served warm mixed nuts while the rest of the plane was boarding. Hot towel to wipe my craw, Bourne Supremacy on the tube, really loud music in my headphones. Almost everything a boy could want except for the only thing I want. They could have free wifi and cell phone calls and greased up ten dollar hookers cloned from Angelina Jolie and the one thing that would be on my mind at this stage of the trip would be a smoke. Only three more hours to go.
