I FINALLY made it to the “City of Angels” this week after enduring the most hellish travel experience en route to the airport.
The journey from Brighton was eventful, to say the least.
The motorway route was a complete whiteout with cars sliding all over the shop like wayward ice hockey pucks.
My cabbie opted to take a less-travelled route which in itself was a country road-cum-ice rink.
Drivers and passengers alike were recruited from all vehicles – and people in nearby houses – to assist the lead car in making it up the hill and out of the rough.
It took us four-and-a-half hours to reach the airport.
The next day the fun didn’t stop – once in the hands of Heathrow’s notorious Terminal 5. This will soon taxi its way into British vernacular as a byword for “one heck of an arduous journey”!
I can see it now: “How was the journey?” “It was a Terminal 5 experience.”
Seven hours I sat on the runway waiting for my flight to depart.
(Not literally you understand, I wasn’t cross-legged in snow boots with a numb bum on the tarmac).
We were number 12 in the queue at one point, waiting for the de-icing rig to reach us and after a few texts and tweets I fell asleep.
I awoke to discover my body clock was still tick-tocking away on GMT to then be instructed by the captain to get off the plane.
These marching orders included everyone else of course.
I didn’t throw a hissy fit, lobbing my Blackberry at trolley dollies demanding that the plane take flight whilst barking for another G & T.
I’ll leave those shenanigans to the “divas”.
Rather the troublesome wintry weather ensured that my return Stateside was postponed for a couple of days.
So back I go to the Airport Sheraton, quickly becoming my new West London pied a terre for another night of room service and mini bar.
The same flight was cancelled the following day so I was forced to ditch BA and book transatlantic passage on a US Airways puddle jumper which, despite the snow, was committed to take off on time – which it did.
Our colonial cousins had obviously “winterised” their under-carriage with spiky tyres or the likes, ensuring the show must go on.
Eventually – exhausted and relieved – I made it to LA. What a journey!
It all came good in the end, though.
The world continued on its daily revolution, my suffering turned to joy and the trip proved to be a worthwhile effort indeed.
I’m here in Hollywood recording a tune which is set to feature on my new album as a special bonus track when it is officially released in April.
So lend us your ears and we’ll sing you a song.
I only hope the return journey is less stressful. If we must divert, can I suggest Madrid?