Cabo To Santa Barbara

 We hop the congested highway to the airport and after an eternity, we’re there. In the security line I ask for a hand check on my roll of photo film. They refuse. I ask for a manager. They tell me the roll goes through the scanner or doesn’t fly. I angrily chuck it in a bin and pass to the terminal. 

Now I’m salty, I have two hours to kill, and I’m sitting in a room full of people who have warrants in Florida for punching swamp creatures and DUI. My parents and I chat to pass the time and soon enough, they’re called to their gate. My flight is coming soon enough so I migrate.

I hear my name called and a massive line forms, apparently the airline didn’t jive with my passport check and needs to do it again. Normally this wouldn’t annoy me but I’ve got a tight land-side connection at LAX to hit. My flight lands at five and there’s a bus that can pick me up at five forty five. The next one isn’t for another two hours. I was hoping to stash my bag in a bin and breeze through customs. As I stand in line and watch all the groups get called I realize this isn’t giving to be the case. I’m the last one on the plane and they’re all out of bin space. Just like that two hours of my life vanish into thin air.

We land and I saunter off the plane dejected. DHS is not currently funded so I fully expect a hideous line at immigration. Not the case, I breeze through in minutes. Wow, maybe I can make this bus. I call dispatch on my way to pick up my bag and they're saying I have a shot. My bag pops out quickly and customs see no reason to slow mw down. I must be dreaming. I make it to the curb and ten minutes later, my bag appears.

It's a rainy day in LA, I am getting a view I do not see often. The ride to SB routes you along the 101, a freeway I lived the first 22 years of my life along. I know it well, these days I take the train up and down the coast so I don't see as much of this landscape as I used to. With the rain it is extra novel. We make it to SB and I get back to the house with time to spare before my parents land and I need to pick them up.

First stop, Taco Bell. You get strange cravings on the road. Next I gas up the car and head to Santa Barbara Airport. I take my time, cruising up State and Hollister instead of pounding the interstate. I'm not in a rush. I pass some familiar haunts, this place has cleaned up a lot since I moved away. I get to the airport and check on my parents' flight status. Diverted. They made it as far as Santa Maria before they got turned back. Oh well, off to bed.