USA 2004

Arrival in Los Angeles and drive to Palm Springs

The flight is exhausting. We struck up a conversation with a flight attendant who helped pass the time with her friendliness and chatter. She knew Halberstadt, was originally from Burg, studied in Mainz, and works part-time as a flight attendant. She told us that one of the Klitschkos was sitting in first class. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get an autograph or a photo when we checked out.

Arrival right on time at 12:45 p.m. local time.
Check-in took well over an hour because the immigration counters were very sparsely staffed, and the processing speed varied greatly depending on the agent. The two agents handling our line took 2–8 minutes per person. When it was our turn, a new employee arrived—very friendly, which was in stark contrast to her name: "Payne".

The second line was waiting for us at Alamo. The employees there were friendlier, but just as slow. It seems to be part of the American work ethic to take a lot of time for everything. We also got to marvel at the typical American chewing gum and the accompanying chewing right away.
We get a Buick Mercury; at first, the process is very cumbersome. As expected, nothing is explained. The car is parked in a lot, the keys are in the ignition... Then you’re on your own.

What follows the car’s test drive is a tour of Los Angeles. At first, we have a hard time navigating the signs and traffic, but after an hour we find our way onto the right interstate (10) toward Palm Springs.
What follows is nothing but stop-and-go traffic on five to seven lanes for about two hours. By then, we’ve seen very little of LA, aside from the famous "Hollywood" sign, big American cars, and lots and lots of smog.

We arrive in Cabazon around 6 p.m. There’s a huge park here with various outlet stores. Some of the prices are unbelievable. You rarely pay more than $20 for brand-name T-shirts, but genuine designer goods cost about the same as they do in Germany. We grab a burger at McDonald’s. The “restaurant” differs greatly from the German standard—in a negative way…

Around 8:30 p.m., when it’s already pitch black, we reach Palm Springs. We take the first hotel I could find (Palm Court Inn), for which I had a coupon from a McDonald’s voucher booklet. We pay $55. The room is less than functional, and worst of all: contrary to expectations, there’s no air conditioning, just a noisy outdoor fan. You learn from your mistakes!

9:45 p.m.: The exhausting day is over - 24 hours on our feet (German time: 6:45 a.m.).