On Thursday, Jason and I flew back to LA from Orlando. For most people, flying into LA means a trip through the nightmare that is LAX. We were no exception. I've been flying in and out of LAX my entire life, and it has just gotten crazier and crazier.
If you've been through LAX, you know what I mean. There's something about that airport, and the "go, go, go" pace of the city that combine to make it the most likely place to encounter (excuse my language) an asshole. More often than not, you'll encounter several of them.
We woke up at 5:45am East Coast time, which means it was 2:45am Pacific Coast time. I ate a quick breakfast before we left for the airport, and Jason got a little something to eat at the airport. Since you now have to purchase any food (overpriced, yucky, and most likely containing hidden gluten) on board flights these days, I had thrown a bag of nuts and a bag of dried fruit in my purse for the flight.
Still, we arrived in LA at 11am (2pm Eastern time) having not eaten more than some nuts and dried fruit for 8 hours. If you know me well, you know that I deteriorate into devil mode very quickly when I get hungry, and courtesy of my speedy metabolism, I get hungry every three hours. :( Recipe for disaster if you ask me.
Knowing this about myself, I was trying - VALIANTLY - to avoid being an asshole. I didn't succeed. Which sent Jason into asshole mode. And we encountered several other assholes on our way out of the airport to be picked up by my sister, Kelli, resulting in all kinds of interesting encounters.
By the time Kelli picked us up, we were both deep in the mode, and trying desperately NOT to be assholes. It was kind of like some bad joke. You know, "Two assholes walk into a bar..." Our brave attempt at avoiding jerk-dom didn't quite work.
Poor Kelli. She braves LAX only to pick up two total jerks, trying not to be jerks and making things worse every second.
We decided to pass on taking Kelli to a thank-you lunch (she is forever picking us up at the airport), and reschedule it for another day instead. When we aren't being a-holes.
Instead we had lunch just the two of us, neither talking because we're desperately afraid of starting a massive fight. And then we went to our own corners for several hours until we were feeling sane, and rested and happy and ready to apologize for our behavior.
Moral of the story? Don't be an a-hole. Especially when you're flying through LAX.