Prelude to VacationDay One.
First stop, Redondo Beach, CA. My sister and I parked at my brother's house to catch a quick taxi ride to LAX. As we were unpacking our car, we were startled by a noise across the street. We looked up, and sure enough, we viewed with our own eyes the purported and heretofore mythical neighborhood peacock walking down the sidewalk with a rather purposeful gait, methodically searching out breakfast.
You can see (what I am assuming to be) him in front of the green garbage can in the center of the photo. You might want to click the photo to make it larger. That thing was bigger and scarier than I had imagined, and I was in no hurry to walk the short distance across the street to get a clearer shot of him. (Trivia: The generic term for what we know as the peacock is actually peafowl. Technically speaking, only the male peafowl is referred to as a peacock while its female counterpart is known as the peahen.)
Next up, Los Angeles International Airport. In the Northwest terminal, there is a shop called I Love LA. (See My Looking Glass: I Heart LA for product placement.) I considered doing some Christmas shopping there because of the abundant products with the I Love LA logo plastered across them. Perhaps I should work out some kind of business deal with them so I can have product tie-in with this blog? Well, maybe not. Across the walkway from the I Love LA retail establishment was the kiosk where you may purchase travelers' insurance which is where I found this Andre the Giant sticker. And if you've ever seen The Princess Bride, you love Andre the Giant who sadly succumbed to the effects of acromegaly in 1993. Let it be known, Andre the Giant has a posse.
While awaiting our flight, my sister and I invented a game whereby we would people-watch and blurt out the name of a celebrity if the passerby bore even the slightest, vaguest, most remote resemblance to said celeb. One fellow passenger actually elicited the spontaneous and simultaneous exclamation of "Stefan Edberg" from both of us. Stefan was undoubtedly traveling to the Minneapolis/St. Paul, home of many, many Swedes, and the destination of our first flight before we caught a quick connection to the thriving metropolis of Saginaw, Michigan.
Upon our arrival to the Twin Cities, we found the nearest ladies' room while awaiting our connecting flight. It was there I noted a stark difference between Los Angeles and the Midwest. In California, public restrooms are mandated by law to provide toilet seat covers. Not so in other states, including Minnesota. But missing from LAX restrooms yet ever-present in the ladies' rooms of both Minneapolis and Saginaw/Midland/Bay City airports is the illustrious syringe disposal receptacle. I'm not certain if this is to accomodate diabetics or junkies, and I'm also not sure if I feel more vulnerable to exposed toilet seats or exposed needles.