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Notes from the
Road—Hanging with the Presidents....
.. ..If you want to go to Australia, you
pretty much have to go through LA. So we flew into Los Angeles this morning,
arriving about 10:30 a.m. Unfortunately, our plane to Fiji didn’t leave until
11:30 p.m. (2:30 a.m. by my home town clock). Fortunately, our travel agent gave us passes to the
Continental President’s Club.
I’d always gazed longingly at those
fancy wood-paneled doors, wondering what delights lay within. So I was
practically giddy with anticipation as we pressed the little doorbell and were
admitted.
OK, I’m a writer—my imagination
always surpasses reality. But it was still very nice—much better than huddling
in a cracked vinyl chair in the boarding area or wandering the concourses,
looking for a place to plug in my power-depleted laptop. There were work carrels with power
outlets, lights, and telephones. There was wireless Internet access throughout
the club. There were comfortable chair groupings with more power outlets. There
was a pantry area with tea, coffee, water, and snacks including crackers and
cheese and fruit.
Did
I mention there were power outlets?
I
did a last quick-edit of The Exiled Queen
before sending it off to my editor using the handy wireless access. My husband
updated my website with photos from the Demon King tour. I looked around at the
other patrons, wondering if they were really presidents or if they’d got in on
a pass like us.
I
couldn’t help thinking that it would be nice if such a lounge was made
available to airline passengers if, say, their flights were cancelled or
delayed through no fault of their own. Recalling my night spent sleeping on a
baggage cart in Laguardia Airport (it was raining), and my night spent sleeping
under a chair in Heathrow Airport (air traffic controllers strike) it would
have been much more pleasant to have spent them hanging with the Presidents.
My
husband and I took photos of each other sitting in the President’s Club, because
who knew if we would ever get there again.