Here we are at the A.C. Green International Airport in Los Angeles waiting for a red-eye flight to Minneapolis.
The life of a beat writer is an exciting one, let me tell you. I’m sitting on the floor (so I can plug in my PowerBook and charge my iPod) and drinking a medium-sized Diet Coke that cost $3.13.
I’m also sitting about seven feet from a sign that says “This Area Contains Chemicals Known To The State of California To Cause Cancer And Birth Defects Or Other Reproductive Harm.”
So why don’t I move? Because the damn signs are posted every 10 feet or so. So you have two choices: take a train or risk cancer.
However, the drive to LAX was delightful. I hate traffic in New York but California traffic never bothers me for some reason. There’s always a nice breeze. Plus I had my iPod plugged and and was listening to my California playlist. It’s loaded up with NWA, Tupac, Dr. Dre, Warren Zevon and Tom Petty so I’m sure I lookeed like a complete moron driving along singing Let Me Ride and Desperados Under The Eaves.
I’ve driven in and out of LAX probably 50 times in my life for assorted reasons. It always reminds of the great 1995 Michael Mann film Heat when DeNiro’s character, Neil McCauley, stops at a hotel near LAX to pump a couple of bullets into Waingro, who had been a member of his crew before crossing him.
If you’ve never seen it, I highly recommend it. DeNiro, Al Pacino, Val Kilmer, Jon Voight, a young Natalie Portman and Ashley Judd. Tremendous film. It was essentially the last time Pacino was any good. Now he’s the same character in every movie he makes, the guy who yells.
As for the Yankees, I’m fresh out of stuff to report to you. Your squad’s in trouble, but you knew that already. Unless they figure it out pretty soon, Sept. 21 will be closing time at Yankee Stadium.
Thanks for reading all weekend. Check back later reports from Minnesota.