Heading home

The conference is done, my stories filed and it’s time to head home. I couldn’t wait. LA is a pimple of Satan’s backside and I was desperate to come home to SF’s cool climate and sensible layout.

Had a wonderful moment in the bar at the airport. Was hammering out a last piece about the show when a chap sat down next to me and we got chatting. Turns out he’s a senior Microsoft type who’d popped over for BUILD, so we got talking about the industry, the vagaries of business travel and (since he clocked my accent and had stayed in the UK) the improvements in British food.

It took a while before we got to talking about what we did, and after he told me his profession I waited until he’d swallowed his drink before telling him mine – covering his company for one of the more blunt titles in the business. Microsoft doesn’t particularly like my current employer, and with good reason since we hold its feet to the fire when necessary. As RJ used to say “Journalism is what someone doesn’t want to read in the morning, everything else is advertising.”

To his credit this chap took it in his stride and we carried on talking – off the record of course. Bar conversations in my book are almost always off the record, and it would be a cold-hearted shit who took advantage of such a situation - especially since he didn’t know what I did. Instead we had a refreshingly honest conversation and I came away from it with a better appreciation of how Redmond is thinking and some interesting views on Microsoft’s plans in the application field, as well as some useful travel tips for dealing with Asian airports.

The flight was delayed and it was past 10pm when I finally got home. M had prepared a lentil soup for me on my return, but I was too tired to eat and just happy to snuggle up with my sweetie and have a cat resting against my head. It’s good to be home.

Public transit in Hell A

Microsoft decided to hold the BUILD conference in Disneyland in Anaheim. The last time I was in Team Rodent territory (Carl Haissen’s choice term) was 1994, and I’d never got there from the airport.

It turns out if you’re going to go to Disneyland then you should fly into John Wayne airport, not LAX. It’s a hundred dollar cab ride from LA’s main airport to the rodent capital and I didn’t think the expense people would handle it, so I decided to go via public transport. Wrong choice as it turns out but an interesting trip nonetheless.

Travelling via public transport in LA is like wearing clothes at a nudist jamboree – it’s just not done. As it turns out a $5 day transit pass got me to the hotel with no problems at all, except the 2.5 hours it took to get there. I could have shaved an hour off the time by taking a cab but it was interesting to see how LA public transportation worked.

The city used to have one of the best public transit systems in the world, with trams and buses that ferried inhabitants quickly and cheaply across the city. LA is a huge sprawling place – the city just expanded to fill space, since it’s built on a desert, and transport is key. The after the Second World War a consortium, including oil firms, car companies and Goodyear, bought the public transport network and then shut it down. Car ownership rocketed, but anyone without the funds or inclination was screwed.

As it turns out the transit was fairly smooth. The train from LAX was fast, clean and not too crowded and the bus, while slow and late, proved adequate. The only problem was the time it took, but I’d charged my phone on the flight (Virgin America has plugs under every seat) and so had enough juice to enable ebook reading without having to manage runtime too carefully. If I lived in this city I’d have to have a car, but then again nothing on earth could persuade me to live in LA.

Injury time

OK, the pain hasn’t gone away so it’s time for some help. M found me a good chiropractor (if there is such a thing – I have my doubts) and we went to see him. Got a back crack that seemed to help and he recommended a couple of day’s bed rest. Fat chance with the BUILD conference coming up.

While Monica was getting her shoulder seen to I popped across the street to pick up some supplies. We needed clam juice for a Portuguese fish stew I’ve been planning and Andronicos, a local supermarket chain, looked to be the place to find it. Sadly, the holding company had just signed up for Chapter 11 bankruptcy and the store was ¾ empty and full of depressing notes thanking us for our business. Andronicos is a good chain, and stays open later than most – it’s sad to see it fall beneath the Whole Foods/Berkeley Bowl/Trader Joes juggernaut.

The back work helped somewhat, and the fish stew worked very well, although a bit more chili would have given it more bite. Tomorrow I fly to LA and face conference food, so it was good to have a home cooked meal before I go.