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Wednesday, May 24, 2006
LA Diary
CHICAGO – Delta Airlines Flight 3879 took me from Burbank, California to Salt Lake City, Utah at 2:25 p.m. yesterday. With a one and a half hour wait before my connecting flight to Chicago, I went to this airport bar called Squatter Pub Brewery.
The place was crawling with travelers and I sneaked to a seat near the oversize windows. The view was spectacular outside, snow-capped mountains. Thinking about my two-year son AJ made me sentimental, but I didn’t cry until the waitress shoved me a bill of $19.50 for three small shots of rum and Coke.
Three shots of Bacardi Rum made my tummy growl, so I stopped by a Burger King for a whopper with cheese for $2.89. I fetched a Coke, some Doritos, and bottled water at an idle vending machine. Another stop as to a bookstore, where I yanked the latest Sports Illustrated for $3.99.
By 4:52 p.m. Delta Flight 715 was airborne. Through the public address system, the flight attendant said we will be on air for two and 22 minutes. So how do you avoid boredom from eating you up while being strapped to a safety harness for eternity?
Well, I called two of my friends – rum and Coke. Not so amazingly, they sell booze on flight. What’s amazing is that it’s $5 for a miniature bottle of Bacardi. Even more amazing is that is that I actually bought three bottles.
Sitting beside me was a 35-year-old financial analyst from Morton Grove, a Chicago suburb. He was in California for a wedding, and he loved it only because he wasn’t the one being married. We talked sports and his eyes glinted with I showed him my NBA Finals pass which read “All Games.”
A young blonde in cute jeans and brown top sat at 21-A. She buried herself in a book. She seemed nice and friendly, and so I tried to make small talk with her. Bad move. She was as boring as a doorknob.
Somewhere above 25,000 feet, my seatmate dozed off. Left to my own devices, I read the Sports Illustrated from cover to cover. Yes, it can be done in one hour or two. Especially with alcohol in your right hand and cheesy chips in your left. I couldn’t help but notice the fat guy to my left, he was drooling with envy.
We touched down Chicago O’Hare airport at shortly before 9 p.m. I darted my way to baggage claim and raced to the subway. I was home at 10:02 p.m,, peeled my old clothes for something new, before heading to the baby-sitter to pick-up AJ.
I miss my son. Apparently, the feeling’s mutual. His eyes bulged when he saw me walk through the door, he hollered papa! before dashing and jumping into my arms. Being in Los Angeles was fun, but being back home with my AJ is paradise.
P.S. There are several people I need to thank for making my Bautista coverage easier. Thanks to Sammy Gello-ani for letting me stay at the Westin Bonaventure in downtown LA.
I didn’t bring my own laptop thinking that the media center would have computers for the use of credentialed sportswriters. There we no such computers, so Sammy came to the rescue my lending me a Sony Vaio laptop.
Thanks to Yani Dy, the RN from Mandaue, who fetched me at the airport on Friday so I could catch the Pacquiao press conference.
Thanks also to my best buddy Juvie Cabigon. He offered to put me in a hotel, but I insisted staying in his couch last Saturday night. It turned out to be more fun as I met lots of our mutual friends, especially Bebot Mercado and Maing Magallon from Inayawan.
After we had a sumptuous lunch, Juvie and company drove me to the Burbank yesterday afternoon. Like I said before, I am not rich. My good friends are my wealth. (HDS )
For Bisaya stories from Cebu. Click here. (May 24, 2006 issue)
Write letter to the editor.Click here.
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