Mr. Disney, he dead…

The new terminal at the San Jose Cabo airport is a huge improvement over the old one. You can really see the impact of the tourism dollars, the old terminal was just a bit better than a Quonset Hut with a bar, and the new terminal is first class all the way. They sold beers bigger than my head. This is a good thing, as I have a large head. WP_20130710_001

I had checked us in online, so we just had to drop our one checking bag off, and go through security. We try to travel with one carry on bag each, and a single check in bag for the family. We still have an old Samsonite hard-sided set that is really a piece of crap now. the bag itself weighs a ton, and the latches aren’t TSA approved, so we can’t lock them (even if we did have the key) and we have to wrap a strap around the thing to keep it from popping open.

Also, airlines charge per bag, and have lower weight limits, and the weight of the bag itself puts us over the top, for another extra charge. We may ditch this bag in LA and buy something that sucks less in an outlet somewhere. We aren’t heading straight home, we have 4 days in Disneyland first, which is really pretty cool. Having more than one stop on your vacation really makes it feel like a few mini-vacations, and you get that cool feeling of “someplace new” with each location.

We love Disneyland. It costs extra, but we try to stay on the resort each time we visit. With the early entry, included tickets, meal plans, and all the other bonuses that you get with the resort, it saves so much time that it is like getting an extra day in saved time. Also, we spend the midday at the pool/tiki bar, avoiding the crowds. It rocks.

The flight up from Mexico itself was typical, but I forgot what a craphole the LAX airport is. The newer parts are fine, Sasha and I arrived into that part when we came down for her dance competition a month ago, but we were arriving in the International Arrivals section today, which is older, and like walking back in time to 1973. We walked through about 2 miles of tunnels, all covered in trippy tile mosaics and bad buzzing lighting. The lines at Passport control were confusing, and the scanners didn’t want to read our passports. We finally got through, grabbed our bags, and made it out of customs with just a few dirty looks.

We had a shuttle reserved that was part of our hotel package. I had printed the pickup instructions, and we looked around for the correct drop spot. The whole pickup area was insane, and really poorly marked. My reservation said to wait under the orange “Shared Rides” sign, but none of the signs were orange. We walked until we found someone else looking for the same service, and he found the stop, under a white sign that also did not say “shared rides”. Nice.

In about 10 minutes, the correct van came for us, and a tiny little old man came out to check our ticket and load our bags. He could barely lift my carry-on, let alone the big checkin we had. But that was fine. I gave him our printed ticket, and he went to the front of the van t enter it into his GPS. To do this he pulled out a big magnifying glass to read the screen. Not one of those small square units you get at Barnes & Noble to look up stuff in the fine-print dictionary you got for Christmas, but a giant Mr Magoo looking thing.

Holy Crap. Our driver was Frail and Blind. Fortunately, he spoke little English, and with a thick accent for the words that he did know.

Once we were in, and buckled up in sheer terror, he started the van and got us moving. He went a bit along the concourse, and puled up to another stop to load someone else in. Slowly. Out came the magnifying glass to enter the information. And we moved on. I thought we should exit the concourse soon, but it just kept going. I knew that LAX was big, but this took forever. We took another stop, and the space in the van got tighter.

We drove in the concourse more, and stopped again, when I realized that THIS WAS THE STOP WHERE WE GOT ON. The bastard was looping the concourse until the fucking van was full.

Fuck. Me. Running.

We were stuck and this continued until he had the last seat filled and fully ruptured his hernia loading the damn bags in. The sunlight had long since burned hotspots into the dash from his magnifying glass getting pulled out, and we left the terminal to enter the Twilight Zone.

I was lucky, as I had a small boy sitting next to me. He sang a song. It went like this.

chewing my gum
chewing my gum
chewing my gum
chewing my gum

3641st verse same as the first.

I would like to note that I did not stab him to death with my ballpoint pen. I am applying for sainthood.

The air conditioning shot off once we were on the freeway, and we crept slowly along towards Anaheim. It was like being in the river boat in Apocalypse Now, but without the benefit that you might be shot dead by Charlie any minute, putting you out of your misery. We appeared to be the first stop, and were glad to see the van pull off to Disneyland Drive first. The driver followed the GPS directions, and past the entrance to the Disneyland hotel.

I guess we weren’t first.

The driver went straight through the park, and out the other side. He turned on the neighborhood street. Then, when the GPS instructed, he turned again. And again. And again, into the drive of our hotel. He was a local to LA, and looped the entire block to get into the city’s biggest landmark. Then he went the wrong way, as the cast members waved and yelled as politely as they could that he was going the wrong way.

The second he stopped we got the hell out of that van. He wrestled the wrong bags out of the back. We pointed to the correct bags, and I pulled the big one out for him. I gave him a decent tip to make him go away, and we ran for our lives into the hotel before he started moving the van again. We were safe.

Welcome to the Tragic Kingdom.