We made sure that we had pre booked a hotel in L.A near the airport. After 24 hours of travelling (via NZ) we thought it might be nice to get there and be able to relax and get over the jet lag (although it wasn't too bad, we pretty much just lost a day). Arriving in the airport, it was a good few hours before we got past the queues and many checks. The no messing, no smiling approach to getting you through the arrivals gate felt like quite a shock to the system after Samoan life. After negotiating our back packs and surf boards on a busy shuttle to the hire car spot we were relieved to get in our car and venture to what looked from the photos to be a nice hotel. Arriving in Inglewood we realised why we got the hotel for such a cheap price. We parked at the hotel and walked to the shop to pick up a few supplies, passing some unsavoury characters on the way back. As we walked past a few men we heard one say,
“Look at this goofy, smiling BLEEP BLEEP, this clown don't even know I'm talking about him. I'm gonna pop him in the BLEEP BLEEP head”.
We were pretty sure he was talking about John but we didn't turn around to find out, we got back to the hotel room sharpish and then locked the door behind us. The sound of police sirens constantly passing outside bounced around the walls. We later found out that Inglewood has a huge reputation for being notoriously rough (often featured in gangster rap, ha ha).
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