The journey from the runway to the terminal in Los Angeles is even longer journey than in San Francisco. Gathering up our possessions, we burst into the terminal ready to transfer to our departure gate. Unlike civilized airports, however, there is no way to simply walk from the arrival gate to the departure gate. I had taken a passing glance at the layout of LAX in an in-flight magazine and reconfirmed what I vaguely knew: LAX is shaped like a "U"; we arrived at one point of the U and the international terminal was at the base of the U. What we learned from the surly gate agent in the abandoned United arrival terminal was that there was no way to traverse the half mile or so between the two places without going outside and catching a poorly identified bus at an unmarked stop.
So we walked.
With the clock pushing 11 pm, our next flight due to depart at 12:20 am, and neither a terminal bus nor terminal bus stop in immediate sight in the swarm of traffic, we set out in the general direction of the international terminal, hauling suitcase, bag, backpack and nagging doubts that we were going about this the right way, or even going the right direction. I did not want to spend our rapidly closing window of opportunity searching for a bus stop, then waiting for a bus to take us all the way around the airport, making numerous stops on the way. Thankfully, not one of us was the least bit sleepy.
Maybe it wasn't half a mile. It may have been closer to a mile; we finally arrived at the bustling Tom Bradley International Terminal lightly perspiring but happy to be among the unfamiliar signs of international carriers and the exotic mix of people that went with it. We found the Asiana Airlines ticket counter without too much trouble, ten minutes or so after 11. It probably was not a good sign that there was no line. As I dug out our passport wallet and asked for four seats together for our next two flights, the ticket agent smiled and offered the friendly suggestion that it would have been helpful if we had reserved the seats earlier. I was not nearly tired enough yet to snap that their online system would not allow me to select seats, the telephone agents told me I had to reserve seats at the checkin counter, and the United agent in San Francisco could not reserve seats because Asiana would not allow it (even though they are both Star Alliance members). Our worst fears were realized: although we could sit together on the short Seoul-Shanghai leg, we would be divided into two groups of two on the 13-hour LA-Seoul portion of the trip (aha! My doubts triumph again!). At least our luggage was checked all the way through to Shanghai. All we had to do was go to the gate, get on the plane and start negotiating with flight attendants and passengers to change our seats.
Once we passed through security again, that is.
Unlike the main domestic terminals, which have an abundance of security machines (even LAX has sort of figured out by now), all of us redeye travelers had to squeeze through four x-ray machines. Our time in the line approached thirty minutes and our designated boarding time was just a few minutes away. Michael started to fret about the time slipping away, allowing me to get some good practice in on my "don't worry" skills. These skills, I would later learn, would be crucial.
After finally making it through the slowest security line I have had the misfortune to experience in a long time, we headed to the gate, seemingly another quarter mile away. As our appointed gate hove into view, we could see the passengers lined up into the main concourse. We missed the boarding announcements, but found our way to the correct boarding group line anyway. We didn't have time to notice that our boarding group's line was almost all gone by the time we joined it. Without breaking stride, we went right on to the airplane.
The seats on our airplane, a Boeing 777, were configured in a 3-3-3 arrangement, which would have presented problems for our group of four under the best of circumstances. As it was, two of us were in the next to last row on the left side, and the other two were a couple of rows away against the window on the other side. As Michael and I took our seats at the back, we discovered we were in a special row of only two seats because the curvature of the fuselage encroaches on seating space (that's how far back we were). That made for very comfortable seating for us because the offset of our sets meant I had a little extra elbow room on the aisle side, but I immediately found the nearby flight attendant (the only caucasian in a crew of Koreans) to explain our seating dilemma. The two people behind us refused to relocate, but a nice couple just across the aisle from us took us up on the offer of a window seat. We were seated together! My anxieties retreated to the shadows again, quelled but not quite silent. Before the airplane pushed away from the gate early, we were seated four across, divided only by the aisle, armed with blankets, games, music and food. As we would soon find, we would need none of it, because the airline provided it all, plus television shows and movies.
We settled in for the long overseas journey, happy to be done with the preliminary travel and finally on our way.
The crew kept the lights on for a couple of hours, serving us a truly excellent meal. Everything was great; our flight attendant asked, apologetically, if our kids would be willing to accept kids' meals that they had in surplus. Chicken nuggets? Forget the kids, I want some! Sometime in the middle of the night (time was quickly losing all meaning), as we flew over Eugene on our way toward Alaska, the crew doused the lights and we settled in to whatever fitful sleep we could manage.
After experiencing the shortest April Fools Day of our lives (about 6 hours, from just before takeoff until we crossed the International Date Line), crossing over Alaska and down the eastern edge of Russia, we were treated to a tasty breakfast of pancakes, and landed in Seoul in the pre-dawn darkness. Seoul's Incheon airport has earned a reputation for fine amenities, and it did not disappoint. After going through yet another security check, we found our way to the Asiana passenger lounge. We had to wait a little while for everything to open, but I was eventually able to treat myself to a hot shower and a change of clothes in a spacious private bathroom, and some general relaxation in the lounge area.
I was also able to take advantage of the free internet terminal, where I discovered there were already some hiccups with something at work. I did the best I could to put out the fires (my inner doubter celebrating yet again that it wasn't wrong), and tried to put that out of my head as we looked forward to the final leg of our journey.
Just before our next flight, we exchanged some dollars for Korean currency and treated ourselves to our first meal in Asia: Dunkin Donuts.
The flight to Shanghai was aboard a 747, which allowed us to sit all together in the four seats in the middle of the aircraft, surrounded by Korean and Chinese businessmen. We were given another terrific meal, a hot, spicy fish-and-rice selection. We were weary, but getting close, and I felt as refreshed as I could be after my shower. All we had to do is fill out our immigration cards and we would be on to our adventures.
The immigration cards asked for typical information, such as our names, passport numbers, purpose of our visit ... and location of where we would stay. I had anticipated this! Before we left, I copied the home address of our hosts, which I had thoughtfully e-mailed to family members, onto a piece of paper. I had then transferred that information to the Notes application in my iPhone and left the messy piece of paper on my dresser at home. Aren't modern devices grand?
They are, so long as the batteries remain charged.
No comments:
Post a Comment