Pitta Magic

customs hell

So I'm at passport control at JFK during my mammoth travelfest to the West US coast, where the words 'piss-up' and 'brewery' come to mind as I get shunted from queue to queue for no apparent reason other than the officials feel the need to look busy and officious, thereby shaving valuable minutes from my already cutting-it-fine connection time.

My fingers refused to be scanned and I quickly discover that this is not the place to make jokes about protesting peacefully against the ID police by shaving my fingerprints off.

Fast forward to SFO airport, where the AirTrain to the car rentals is very efficient, I must say. But the satnav I hired has an English accent - go figure. Maybe that's why I got lost twice on the way to my hotel (it was also female). Randomly, I was waiting at the baggage carousel alongside the old doctor from Eastenders.

(I would have blogged this from the airport while waiting but they charge $7.95 per hour for surfing... whatever happened to free wi-fi in public places?? Robbing b*st*rds!)

Kat.

posted by Kat @ 2:29 AM