To put it mildly, I’m not a fan of LAX. No offence to the airport itself but I just haven’t had much luck with connector flights at this particular airport for one reason or another. Sadly, I found out that I’m still cursed as nothing much changed based on my last experience. It all started when I got handed an orange express connection card upon disembarking the flight from Raro in hopes that rushing through customs would allow me to make my next flight (if I couldn’t get to the gate in time then I was advised that I would have to get myself booked on a later flight to Vancouver).
The deal this time around was that my flight from Rarotonga was so delayed that I had 30 minutes to get through customs, pick up my bags, recheck my bags, change terminals, go through LA airport security, and stroll to the gate before my flight to Vancouver started boarding. I’m no fool as I know you usually need around an hour to do all of this so with orange pass in hand, I was going to put my superhero strengths to the test. I could give you a play by play on the what it took to make that flight but I won’t. What I will say is that with a lot of queue jumping (a big thank you to everyone who let me go ahead of them in the security line!), a little luck (I got my 2 checked pieces before most people got 1), and simply running around like a maniac, I made the flight. There was no stopping at duty-free and collecting my 1.14 litres of liquor as planned but sod it! I was going to get home as anticipated instead of being stuck at LAX until who knows when and that’s worth its price in gold.
I found myself in Raro on a Friday night and what else was there to do other than hit the bar scene with my newfound friends. After some milling about and an executive decision to leave the overly drunk and obnoxious birthday girl back at the hostel, we decided to check out Whatever Bar before heading over to Rehab. What we didn’t know is that a dance competition for a bar tab was awaiting us when we walked into Whatever Bar.
What I knew before we hit the bar was that 2 out of the 3 of us liked to boogie. It was the Aussie with his bright white shoes gleaming in the night that I wouldn’t have taken as a dancer even after he started to grind up the dance floor. At first I thought he was doing it to impress us and then I thought it might be for free booze for the night. Then it dawned on me – HE LIKES TO DANCE!
The dance competition lasted for what felt like hours and he was committed. My Aussie friend hopped around the dance floor like it was on fire and he was in the middle of having a seizure. All I can say is what he lacked in rhythm, he most definitely made up with heart. It was as though his awkward moves turned to magic in the midnight air and soon, everyone in the bar was rooting him on. It goes without saying that this dancing machine not only won over the crowd but the judges adored him as well. The moral of this story is no rhythm…no problem as that won’t stop you from winning a bar tab for you and all your friends!
This might just be the anal uptight bitch in me coming out but what’s up with “island time”? Do you get to an island and loss the ability to tell time along with the common decency to be respectful and show up places on time? If someone said that they’re going to pick you up between 7:15 – 7:30pm then shouldn’t you just expect them to show up then? What I’ve come to realize is NO. The reason for this rant is that there were 3 of us waiting for the bus taking us on the pub crawl through Rarotonga. We waited and waited and waited and NOTHING! It was closing in on 9pm and it was becoming apparent that we’d be stood up.
Never say die until the fat lady sings right? While attempting the logistics of how the 3 of us would fit on a scooter for our own personal pubcrawl, we were joined by a 4th and it became apparent that the wise thing to do was call a cab (surprisingly, there is one on the island). Jason’s Taxi was not only our DD that night but also someone who actually shows up when they said they would as well (this shouldn’t amaze me but it does…).
Anyway, moral of the story is pubcrawl or no pub crawl – we still got our night out on the town. Great company and fun bars but the highlight for me was munching down on a chicken pocket as we waited for Jason’s Taxi to come take us home. What can I say – I’m a sucker for street meat!