In the City of "Angels"

I took a little trip north this past weekend to LA. Last time I was there, things didn't go over so well, but I decided to give it another go around and really get to know Los Angeles a little better before judging it too harshly.

Honestly, I think this city has it out for me.

Everything was going great. Hanging out w/ my cousins, going to the Getty and Griffith Observatory, eating tons of delicious junk food, lots of fun. The weather even cooperated and provided sunshine for most of my visit. I was beginning to think that I could eventually even like this city.

Then I tried to leave.

I think that LA either loves me so much, that it never wants me to go or it hates me so venomously that whenever I am nearby, it tries to sabatoge my travel plans. I tend to lean towards the latter.

Here's what happened:
My cousin dropped me off at the train station about 45 minutes before my departure. I had recieved both my tickets in San Diego, so I dug out my second ticket from my backpack, where I had safely kept it stored. Only it wasn't all there. I had two tickets stubs. Not one full ticket. Apparently, when I boarded in San Diego, the conductor tore both my tickets, leaving me w/ two tickets stubs. Remaining calm, I quickly went to information to figure out what I should do. They send me across the station to Ticketing, where I re-explained my situation to Mary-Ann. Mary-Ann is favorite Polynesian woman. She immediately whips out this little notepad and gives me a "Conductor Pass," telling the railway man not to kick me off the train.

After thanking Mary-Ann profusely, I had about 20 minutes until my train left. No problem. I would just walk straight to the platform and board early. Except the train didn't have a platform. The train existed, but apparently it was taking off from invisible platform. Like in Harry Potter, where you have to step through a wall at Platform 9 3/4 or something.


That made me a little excited, before I realized I am a Muggle. Darn.

I wandered down every single Platform, looking at the little signs posted above with travel information. Nothing. LA's Union Station only has 12 platforms, you would think it would be pretty easy. Not so. With 10 minutes before my train took off, I finally found a conductor.

"Excuse me, could you tell me what platform Train 578 to San Diego is stationed at?"
"Yeah, 10B"
"Okay, thanks."
"You better hurry though, that train is leaving soon."

Like I didn't know. So I booked it to Plaform 10B and found a seat by the window with time to spare. Safe and sound out of the clutches of Los Angeles.

So I thought. I think SOMEONE was feeling a little slighted and spiteful that I slip through it's grasp and decided to give our train a little engine trouble and brake failure. We coasted (literally coasted) into San Diego after stopping three times on the tracks, spending a grand total of 4 1/2 hours on a trip that should've taken 3.