LAX International vs Walmart

First off, let me just say that landing in LAX, especially after experiencing a stunning trip outside of America, is akin to having someone come up to you and hit you in the face with a shovel.

BAM!

Just like that. We have all been there, that smash of “shit,” and “ugh,” and “lost” that follows any vacation, especially if its one of those vacations where you allow yourself to think briefly, “Maybe I could move here and do this for a living!?”

The other amazing thing that happened to me upon arrival from New Zealand was that I raced through customs, through baggage claim, to the United Airlines front desk to check in for my flight to Denver only to find that the flight was rescheduled to leave 30 minutes EARLY. Has that ever happened to any of you? Of course I started to cry and the extraordinary thing about that was, for once, crying got me nowhere. Looking around me I noticed at least two other women crying as well. All of us confused, all of us passed along to another airline employee that held that gaze in his eyes, “Great. Another one.”

Eventually I was fine, I boarded the next available plane and landed in lovely Colorado no more than two hours late. But you know the greatest thing I think we all can do? Mind our P’s and Q’s. LAX is such a poor example of America (and keep in mind sometimes all a visitor sees), and its important to remember how far a please or a thank you will go.

The whole experience actually reminded me of the LAST TIME I have ever been to Walmart. In my defense, I was in the usual hurry and needed supplies for an oil change as well as a few groceries – yes, Walmart is the devil but it also has both! So, as I was negotiating my cart in and out of the aisles I was rammed repeatedly by over zealous mothers—the ones carting around huge heavy loads of everything along with two or three children. I kept saying, “Ah, sorry,” as if it were my fault. It took me awhile to notice that not a one said, “Its okay, no worries, excuse me.”

My horror escalated. In the grocery aisle I was moving slow and a regular Walmart shopper came careening around the corner, not looking, and smacked into the back of my heels! Holy mother! I managed to keep my composure…for one more minute…

On my way out of that hellacious aisle, limping, I was rounding the corner at the same time as an older man…in a motorized wheelchair—one of those yellow ones with the basket in front. He sat there, motionless, like a scared rabbit. Meanwhile the frustration and annoyance and unjustness of WALMART was seething and boiling in my very bones…and then…I burst.

“What are you going to do man!” I nearly screamed. “Are you going to just sit there!?”

I left minutes later, my groceries still stuck in aisle eleven. Perhaps the man stayed there too. I was so horrified by my actions that I left immediately, and vowed never to return. Walmart is a true energy thief—the place steals the good we try and suck up and absorb on the outside, and deposits it into the useless shit that lines the well stocked walls.

My experience at LAX was eerily similar. I will, of course, hope to return to LAX, if only for a brief respite before flying off to somewhere else.

Hope everyone is having a lovely Monday!

Laura