Thursday, September 24, 2009
There's something about Los Angeles airport. Not something I find pleasant, mind you--just that certain feeling the place has, or rather, that it has for me personally. In this image, taken on the way to New Zealand (LA is almost unavoidable as a stop), I feel as if I've captured something of the mood, some kind of representation of the sort of memories I associate with LAX.
The primary association for me is tiredness, exhaustion, a kind of mid-journey melting point at which you're either bleary-eyed and facing a trans-Pacific flight, or zombified and heading into another 4 hours' "layover" in the lounges of LAX followed by a 6-hour flight home to winter, and two weeks of jet-lag. If the floor is going to start moving around mysteriously beneath your feet, it's LA where it will happen. If your ears like to plug themselves after multiple take-off and landing routines, by the time you reach Los Angeles you're likely to be semi-deaf. And so the image of this fellow, who was taking a nap in the departure lounge while waiting for a Malaysian Airlines flight to Taipei, is basically iconic when it comes to the misery of low-budget intercontinental air travel.