The morning flight from Seattle to LAX wasn't too eventful either. Again, I was pretty much ignored by the stewardesses. First class breakfast was a poached egg in a hollowed out tomato half skin. Eating it made me queasy. But I took this nice shot from the window, likely before we were served breakfast.
Dave Moore and his girlfriend were supposed to pick me up at the airport, but they weren't there when I deplaned (in those days you could meet your party right at the gate). Finally figuring that he had forgotten and they weren't coming, I boarded a bus from LAX to South Gate (this was midday, so I was unlikely to get held up).
Just as we were nearing the edge of the parking area off to the right side of the bus--I was sitting in the very back--I was shocked to see Dave and his girlfriend, top down on the Rambler convertible, pulling into the parking lot by the United terminal several yards behind the bus. I quickly got up and pulled the rope to alert the driver to stop the bus. Fortunately, he let me out even though it was not a regular stop. I quickly ran back, my suitcase in one hand, flight bag in the other, and flagged them down just as they parked. (This was the era of one level of parking lots at LAX. Today, I probably would not have found them as easily.)
After I got home, I collapsed on the couch in the living room in exhaustion. A friend of Ann's buzzed the door. I got up and let her in, then lay back down on the couch to sleep. Standing there, she soon asked if Ann was home. I mumbled that she wasn't. I think Ann's friend was puzzled that I let her in and left her standing there when Ann wasn't even around. She let herself back out, and I fell asleep again, pretty much out of it.
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