Postcards from the edge...of reality

The Hollywood Sign 3
Originally uploaded by Dave Gorman.

I am back in Chicago now, having spent an outrageous couple of days in Southern California. I scarcely know where to begin this story. Many of you will know that my stories are rarely told chronologically, but I think that's the only way to tell this one. So here goes: a six-day tale told in three parts - two days at a time. Hang onto your hats.

Day One: Chicago to LA-LA Land

I nearly suffered emotional meltdown at O'Hare airport because of the lack of seating in the food court. Not enough to tip me normally, but on this occasion I was inundated with Eastern European tourists (or perhaps they were from Kansas or something), all of whom wanted to sit right on top of me to enjoy their respective late lunches. After several huff-and-puff tantrums that would have done Scarlett O'Hara proud, I ended up eating my fish & chips standing up at the entrance to the food court. Of course I vowed to pen a rather terse letter to the Federal Aviation Authority upon my return to the Midwest.

Arriving around 7pm in Los Angeles (9pm Chicago time) I was a little weary, and looking forward to the warm embrace of the Park Hyatt bubble bath. I hadn't quite counted on the LA rush hour traffic - and my taxi sat bumper-to-bumper in traffic for about 40 minutes. I wanted desperately to doze off, or stop at a Burger King or something, but I learned quickly that you don't mess with a Californian taxi driver in rush hour traffic. Maybe it's not easy to negotiate a six-lane freeway with a cranky Aussie in the backseat...who knows.

But I tell you, the Park Hyatt hotel knows how to treat its guests. I was 'yes ma'amed' and 'no ma'amed' all over the shop, and the post-bath chicken burger room service was divine.

Day 2: Los Angeles, here I come!

Dare I suggest that beds at the Park Hyatt should come with instructions? Let me demystify them for you, friends. King size beds are huge, particularly when you're sleeping solo. But a good king size bed, as in the case of the Park Hyatt, come with four pillows. The bottom two are structural and serve (literally) as props for the top two. Cause it's the top two pillows that are the meal tickets - they are your squishy, feathery, comfy pockets of heaven. It took me two days, and about 400 migraine tablets, to realise the source of my neck ache. So let me (again) serve as a warning to the rest of humanity and save you the grief - always sleep on the top two pillows and hurl the bottom ones far away. Trust me on this.

So yes I woke up with neck pain which was less than pleasant, and was only exacerbated by the $25 bowl of oatmeal that I consumed at the hotel for breakfast. But at this stage I still didn't have my bearings and even though I knew the Consulate was walking distance from the Hotel, I didn't know what options there might be nearby for breakfast (or coffee). So really, this was Opportunistic Oatmeal.

The concierge kindly directed me to the Consulate and, because I had enough time (and sensible footwear), suggested a pleasant scenic route that took me past leafy streets and towering condominiums along the way. But I'll say one thing for LA - the traffic is simply relentless. It never gives up. Just when you think there's a lull and perhaps LA can be peaceful after all, the traffic lights will change and the madness starts all over again. And is it possible to get carbon monoxide poisoning as a pedestrian? It seems likely to me after breathing LA fumes (not air).

Arriving at the Consulate I was greeted by my friendly and happy colleagues. It immediately struck me that LA is much busier than Chicago in more ways than one. For one, the LA Consulate is bigger, and the Aussie community in the West is also bigger. So there's more to do, the phones ring more often, and the pace is more frenetic. But I loved it and where I could, I rolled up my sleeves and pitched in. And such was the tone for the rest of the day.

Clocking off at around 5.30pm (a late night for me), I joined two of my colleagues/babysitters (F and J) for drinks and an early dinner. It was great - we went to their local and I had some nice local wine, and a burger that was as big as my head. I had to chop it into 4 pieces just to devour it, and even then I only managed to get through half.

Returning to the Hotel fairly early, I watched some TV but had to admit defeat around 9pm. I knew that the next few days would take it out of me - working, playing, and just immersing myself in a city as sprawling as Los Angeles. What would I think of it, and would I fit in?