USA

This is a guest article by MG

You just knew when you entered America. Well, at least you knew when contact was made with any person from these shores. Of course, there were Americans on the flight, but people such as the BMI attendant of Mexican descent on landing just oozed of USA. Then there was customs. Our officer was named ‘Hoopes’, which instantly reminded me of the US show ‘Cops’ that used to be a cornerstone of Sky One’s line-up before they decided to alter their programming strategy towards 100% coverage of US Dramas and UK celebratory fly-on-the-wall crap.

‘Cops is filmed on location with the men and women of Law Enforcement’ being the classic phrase mentioned in a deep voice at the beginning of each show – not that I was an avid viewer (no, really) (hysterics). Hoopes was a stereotypical American Cop (as were the majority of the males in customs) – you know the ones – fat, with a moustache as standard (hysterics). One by one we went through immigration, which involved having your fingerprints and photo taken in addition to the mandatory passport scanning. First up was my Dad: ‘You know what they call you John, ‘Jolly Roger’ Dixon? (ironically my Dad’s middle-name happens to be Roger (hysterics)). Next up was my Mum: ‘Your name? ‘Qulie?’, ‘Qulie?!’. Error! Next up was me: ‘Your address isn’t somewhere in Downtown New York, is it?’ I looked quizzically (this was a flight that had just landed from the UK!) ‘Erm, no’, I replied. ‘Oh that’s good, ‘cause that means that I don’t have to cuff you – Damn! I was kinda hoping for some action today’. Yeah, right…

Having safely negotiated that pathway, we were ready to leave the airport. It looked bright outside, but nothing was to prepare me for when I stepped out. It was absolutely roasting. I stood outside for around 2 seconds and immediately came to the conclusion that instead of parping about awaiting my Dad’s decision on what to do and where to go, that I’d look for shade. This proved wise. Unfortunately, our next move was towards a Taxi rank in the opposite direction. So we headed there whilst passing more Limousines than I have ever seen in the same location.

It turned out that the Taxi rank queue was primarily made-up of people who had just arrived on the same flight. During this time, Mum was actually talking with someone who lived on Mountbarrow Road! Madness. When our Taxi did eventually arrive, it was nice to sit in a cooler confine once more. The overriding factor of the taxi ride had to be the way in which the fare accumulated (i.e. it was rapid) in addition to it rising whilst at standstill! $12 for about 1.5 miles seems steep, but I guess it worked out OK at $3 per person.

This is a guest article by MG, imported from Wordpress. Please ignore the 'author/contributor/posted-by' tag on this post, which is incorrect.