The alarm went off this morning at 4.30, waking me after a much too brief four and a half hours of sleep. I woke up groggy and dehydrated and otherwise feeling the effects of the two glasses of Shiraz I drank last night. I stumbled into the bathroom, put my lenses in, cranked up the shower, and…
By turning the knob all the way over to the far end of hot, I was able to obtain the barest trickle of water that hovered between tepid and flat-out cold.
At least it made me move quickly. I got myself ready, headed to the lobby to check out, and managed to miss the airport shuttle while explaining the shower problem to the desk representative.
But at least this gave me a chance to grab a cup of coffee in the lobby. Even if they did charge me for it. And the next shuttle did come just a few minutes later, and the driver helped me with my bag. Of course, I did manage to spill my coffee on myself, but it seemed to clean up okay.
And moving through the airport went reasonably well. Even though I had to undress, practically, going through security, the TSA guys were really helpful in getting my stuff through the machines, and the guy ahead of me helped me drag one of my bins along the table. And for once, the gate I’m flying out of is not at the far end of the terminal, and it turns out to be right across the hall from the President’s Club.
So here’s the thing: 4.30 am lightly hungover wakeup, cold shower, LAX — and I’m still in a good mood. Inexplicably so.