Ok I’m now in my cube between a morning’s induction and a quest for lunch. After lunch I’ll be taking back the car with satnav and picking up whatever my regular drive is going to be for my stay.

The office is GORGEOUS! I’ve taken a couple of pictures which I hope to get online sooner or later.

I invited Martin (German Neighbour) and family out for a meal but she looked terrified at the prospect so not sure how that’s going to go.

Just went into santa barbara to get lunch. The jet lag doesn’t seem to be bugging me too much yet: if I’d got into the condo last night and hadn’t had a two-hour delay getting the hire car then I think I’d likely be fine. It’ll probably be a different story come 5pm (1am). Downtown is great. Both downtown and the hills smell great - the hills are reminiscent of spain, I assume there are wild herbs around, and downtown smells of great food. I ended up getting a tortilla wrap, it being the most exotic thing I could find that I knew how to buy and eat. I guess the culture shock will wear off over the next few days and I’ll get the hang of it all.

This is my first stayi in a bed for a LONG time! Hire car troubles… condo key trouble

[ Translation Mr. Spock ]

Touched down in LA feeling somewhat tired, but on the whole, on top of things. I felt that my hare-brained plan over the last 24 hours had been a qualified success, and that I was in a fit state to endure the next 2 hours’ driving to santa barbara where a warm bed in my shared ‘condo’ awaited. I’d quizzed my neighbor on the plane as to the correct procedure at the “all-ways stop” - a strange american construction, more later - so was feeling more confident about driving.

Found a prime position at the baggage reclaim, got a trolley for $3.50 after figuring out the trolley-o-matic, and watched everybody else’s bags come and go. Then watched a few bags go round three or four times after everyone had left the hall but me. So I went to register my missing baggage. The woman got me to describe my bag and then gave me a form to fill in. Half way through digging out my address in santa barbara, I got a call over the intercom, and there she was standing next to the carousel with my bag… Boy was my face red. Anyhow, I loaded my bag onto the trolley and made for the exit. Where I had to leave the trolley and carry my bag. So that was $3.50 well spent.

Incidentally, these trolleys did not have a safety brake, but did have fixed-direction rear wheels and a great balance that made them eminently manoeuvrable.

Then I stepped into the L.A. night, which had fallen between the plane touching down and my leaving the baggage hall. The arterial road through the airport is abolute mayhem. There are courtesy busses for EVERYTHING so it was a case of standing by the hire-car courtesy bus stop and waiting for the Hertz bus. Meantime, something was going off involving a police patrol car, just too far away to discern, which I decided I prefered, in case there were guns involved…

The hertz bus took us quite a distance from the airport, to HQ, where the Gold Club members could simply look up their names on a large board and find their car. We scummy customers had to cross the sodden road to queue at the reservation desks.

I presented my ticket to the rather aloof, Italian-sounding man behind the desk. I’d reserved a mid-size commuter car with neverlost (satellite navigation) - the idea being I could bash in the location and just drive till I reached the condo, and bed. The guy phoned one of the crew in the parking lot to check the car had satnav, as the computer wasn’t showing it. Once the guy had all my details, I made my way back outside where a big black guy in an even bigger yellow jacket asked me which lot I was in. “638′ I said, showing him the card.
“That’s way over the back” he said “you want me to get it for ya?”
cool, I thought, that’s what I call service.
I waited.
I yawned.
I asked the guy next to me whether I should tip for this. He said I could tip a buck or two and tell the guy to get himself a coffee.
He turned up with a jeep/suv cross, which wasn’t quite what I was expecting.
“632, right?”
“638″
So he got back in the car and disappeared.
I waited.
I probably yawned again. It was getting late. 6pm local time, 2am body-clock time.
He turned up with a rather sleek-looking white pointed thing. Cool. I can see myself cruising in that up to SB.
The smallest I had was a $5 note, so I tipped him somewhat nervously, chucked my heavy bags in the ‘trunk’, opened the passenger door, shut it again and got in the other side.

No sat nav.

Maybe it’s built in to the stereo. But there’d be a button marked ‘nav’ right? Info. Wonder if that’s it…?

So I got out again. A bus driver honked at me for leaving the car in such an inconvenient place. I shrugged, having not moved the car a single inch myself, and went inside.

At the customer service desk, I spoke to the extremely helpful Amy, and said “I’ve got a car with Neverlost. I can’t find any buttons. I either need a crash course in neverlost, or a car with neverlost.” She pointed to a slightly-larger-than-palm-sized box mounted on the end of the counter and said “it looks like that”.
“I don’t have one of those.”
“Then you don’t have neverlost”
Grr. So Amy takes my contract and presses a few buttons.
“Do you wanna convertible?”
“Er… yeah?!”
“OK. It’s a ford mustang convertible, in lot 946. Sorry about the confusion. Have a nice night” etc. I said did she want me to put my car back in lot 638? She said I drive it to the other car to save walking in the rain and just leave it there. Cool!

My spirits are lifted by the prospect of cruising in this so I carefully wobble the car around the lot to bay 946, and park in it. Unless this mustang is real small, it’s not here.

So I took my bags out of the trunk and wandered around getting wet, checking the license plates on all the mustangs within range, and eventually concluding that my car isn’t there. Back to the desk.

Amy is sorry to see me back so soon, and takes charge. She gets “burt” on the walkie talkie and asks for any car with Neverlost to be got ready and brought to customer services. About 40 minutes later, this happens. I’m quite tired by now, but I do glean some amusement from the way she says “hey, burt” on the walkie talkie in exactly the sesame-street way.

I’ve got a ford Taurus. It’s a lot less sexy than the mustang, but bigger and quite comfy. And it has no gear stick! Oh wait, the gear stick’s where the wipers should be. Where are the wipers? Ah, where the headlights should be. Where are the headlights? er. Ah! Now I can see what gear I’m in.

After only a little confusion getting out of the compound (they want my drivers license and contract, and say “full tank of gas” as if they are telling me, then wait for a reply) I’m off onto Airport Boulevard with my sexy pocket passenger crooning directions in my ear. I got all the way to the freeway without apparently offending anyone, then within 30 miles of SB only offending 1 guy enough to honk and flash. This was pretty good going considering I’d not used this car’s mirrors in daylight, so had no clue how far away all these headlights were in the mirrors, and considering the freeway was really packed and people overtake on both sides here.

I’m now 2 hours behind schedule and REALLY starting to flag. After finding myself unable to focus on the tail lights ahead, I pull off to find coffee. I fail, but a change is as good as a rest and I merge back into the freeway and manage the next 10 miles before feeling once again that I am jeopardising my wellbeing. I pulled off again to look for somewhere to stretch my legs and get caffeine. The road is deserted so I pull into a small side road to turn around, then get a sudden attack of vertigo as I realise the landscape to my right is in fact ocean! A moment outside the car in the sea air fixes me up for the last 20 miles to SB.

Once in santa barbara, I meet my first all-way stops and the satnav gets a little confusing on the spoken directions, but fortuntely it has a map display too and I find the condo.

I went to the agreed hiding place and found two keys in an envelope. Neither of them fit in the lock. I try them the other way up. I examine them in the the tail lights of the car. One is for the “garage” and the other is for the “office” so I figure “office” must be Merikainian for the whole condo. It doesn’t open. I try the garage but there is no visible way of opening it from the outside. Bah! I’ll phone the contact on the sheet.

Now, I no exupert on mobile phones, but I didn’t expect to have to have to go down a bunch of menus to enable the tri-band functionality. But it wasn’t getting a signal so here I was at 9pm/5am, 45 hours after getting up, having to go through every menu option on this phone looking for something that might make it work in the USA. Nothing did. So it’s back in the car and off downtown to find a payphone. I called my contact’s out-of-hours number and got voicemail. And of course had no number to leave. So back to the condo, looking for ways to break in. I ended up ringing next-door’s bell since I could see their light on, and got taken in by a lovely German couple, their baby and their dog…