Los Angeles Airport is the Hartsfeld-Jackson of the West Coast. Luckily for me, I grew up in Atlanta under a busy Delta pilot. LAX is easy compared to ATL. We breezed through security and found our gate with nearly two hours to spare. I spent one of those hours waiting in a typically snake-like Los Angeles-bagel shop line. I can’t remember the name of the café, or at least I won’t put it in print. All I will say is that the bagel shop was adjacent to the airport’s animal relief station. Or was that just the café's kitchen?
Cristina and I shared a breakfast of two just-lightly-enough-to-technically-be-called-“toasted” bagels, cream cheese, and two coffees. Already, my plant-based days were behind me. When I asked for a receipt to mark the occasion, I was wholesale ignored. When I reached over the counter and snatched the slip myself, the barista yelled at me. Boy, was I going to miss LA. The entire transaction costs me $17 in USD, but far more in self-esteem.