The answer to that is, I didn't have it. I crossed the international date line, meaning the 20th September just didn't happen for me! Strange!
Since I last left you, I started the noodle plan with some very tasty chicken noodles and donated salad from Silja (I previously spelt this Celia, I was wrong!). I spent that night talking to the girls and we all had quite an early night again. I say 'that night' because I now have no idea what day of the week it is/was.... silly time zones.
On my last day in LA, Jodie, Silja and I took a trip to Santa Monica beach, but unfortunately it was very overcast and actually a little cold. The shorts and swimsuits were a little adventurous, and it was so chilly that I did a quick change from shorts to leggings on the bench. It was nice to wander though, and I can now say I've dipped my feet in the Pacific Ocean whilst sipping a latte... interesting. We walked along the beach a little and then made our way up to a Thai restaurant which was doing $8 lunch specials, lush. After filling myself on sole with rice, Jodie and I made our way back to the hostel whilst Silja went to a dance class.
The bus ride home was eventful to say the least. Jodie went to get a map from the front and attracted the attention of an old man, who asked if her hair was naturally red. In fact, it was pink, but whatevs. He proceeded to follow her back to our seats and starts telling us he is a comedian and tells a joke which I'm pretty sure was offensive to Jews. So this other guy looks at him disapprovingly, and the 'comedian' starts swearing at him and proclaiming how he's in the mafia. It was awkward. We made a swift exit and a trip to CVS before going back to our hostel. I'd already packed, so I reheated my leftovers from lunch for dinner and hung out with Jodie until my shuttle for the airport arrived.
When it did arrive, planning had obviously broken down because there was not enough room for all of us. My flight seemed to be the latest, so I was going to have to wait for another shuttle. That was until I noticed the other gilrs were in groups. One of the groups had got on, but there wasn't room for the second group to go all together. With a sneaky whisper of "I'm on my own... if that helps..." to the driver, I was loaded up and on my way to the airport, happily chatting about LA to two girls on my flight, two girls from the UK and one girl from Australia.
Got to LAX and checked in, but not without drama. The man at check-in seemed confused about my ticket. Granted, it's a bit odd, but not unheard of. He told me that I had no flights booked after New Zealand. After a good 2 minutes of freaking out, which felt like at least 15, he found that he hadn't scrolled down the page. Fool. Checked in, joked with the TSA agents a little (first time I've ever seen them smile!) and went through security. Apparently I look suspicious because I had to have a pat down. I went and sat in Starbucks and pinched the wifi signal that was creeping out of the Air France Premier Lounge above me before having a peek around duty free and finally getting a watch. I've been wanting one for so long and I finally got one. Started feeling a little teary and homesick at this point as well as having butterflies in my stomach, so I decided a walk over to my gate would be a good plan. And who should I bump into but the Australian girl from the shuttle, Rachal! We chatted for a bit, and I told her my New York HelpX horror story. A guy next to us overheard, he was British too and was heading to Heathrow on the plane of the gate next to ours. It was nice to hear a British accent actually. He joined in our travelling horror story session, suffice to say he won with walking across the Zambian border. It passed the time nice and quickly and it was soon time to board.
I had a window seat luckily, and the Air New Zealand plane really was lovely. Squashed of course, that's to be expected, but very clean and up to date. The food wasn't terrible either. Got chatting to the couple next to me who were originally from the UK but moved to NZ in 1974, very nice people. I was just glad I didn't end up next to the Mormon guy who had a 'Church of the Latter Day Saints' badge that identified him as 'Elder Osbourne'. He also looked quite a lot like Voldemort. Not that I'm implying a correlation there... but 13 hours of Mormon Voldemort is not my idea of fun. Sleeping pills helped me get a good 6 hours sleep, which could be a lot worse.
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