shewhomust | LA is a great big *@!%*#

Our homeward itinerary is: get up at 6 o' clock, breakfast, return car to Hertz at San Jose airport, fly Air Alaska to LA, arriving 10.49 am. That's where we are now. Onward flight to Heathrow is with Air New Zealand at 16.45, so no rush.

Do we know the way to San Jose? Up to a point. Repeated attempts have established that we can fairly reliably find the airport, but we get lost when we try anything more ambitious. I'd assumed from the song that San Jose was a small town far from LA, somewhere where a wannabe movie star might dream of returning if only they could scrape together the fare. And it's true that when the song was written, it wasn't yet the capital of Silicon Valley: it's now the tenth largest city in the entire USA, as well as the third oldest in California. But it wouldn't be had to find from LA - just head for san Francisco, and stop short. Anyway...

I thought we would have time in hand (coffee!) at San Jose, but by the time the queue had snaked through security, our spare hour had vanished, and it was time to board. The flight on Air Alaska's comparatively small plane went smoothly - I had time to read the inflight magazine's recomendation of the Palouse region, with its picturesque waterfalls and famous Lentil Festival. We would even have arrived slightly early, had we not had to wait 20 minutes for a gate to be free. From the captain's comments, I infer he felt that American Airlines had pinched his parking spot, but I think it's just that Los Angeles Airort hates me (and it's mutual).

When our gate was finally clear, we had another delay while they found some steps to let us out of the plane. Then something triggered the alarm on the door of the terminal building, and we had to wait again until they decided to let us in, the alarm whistling in our ears all the while. There is no visible signage to direct you from domestic arrivals to international departures, and the staff member at the desk began by telling us that 'Air New Zealand doen't fly from here' which wasn't helpful. The car rental shuttle buses passed in shoals while we stood waiting for our bus, and when it came, it didn't stop (there was another one just behind). At Terminal 2 there is a very uninviting lobby, with a small Starbucks and a newsstand, and again no signage - but a queue for the lift, which we joined, on the basis that wherever we wanted to be, it wasn't here.

Maybe airside is better, but we are still barred from that promised land: we can't go through security until we are checked in, and we can't check in until Air New Zealand open their desk (about half an hour from now). So we are back down in the lobby, where Starbucks have provided coffee (which improved my temper somewhat) but no internet (which didn't).

Oh, and although there is a locking mechanism on the cubicle doors in the ladies', I haven't yet made it work.

Later: After another 45 minutes in various queues, airside is better, but not much. I'm posting this courtesy of leaky wi-fi from the Air France executive lounge.

Not my favourite airport.