The aim was to arrive in Los Angeles by late Friday morning or early Friday afternoon, just in case we happened to encounter any unforeseen circumstances along the way.
I had managed to secure myself a spot on the same departure and return flight as a friend (whom I regularly refer to as my “favourite fangirl”), thus we were able to travel together and keep each other company during the brief periods before our flight.
I had managed to secure myself a spot on the same departure and return flight as a friend (whom I regularly refer to as my “favourite fangirl”), thus we were able to travel together and keep each other company during the brief periods before our flight.
International flights generally suggest that fliers arrive at least two hours in advance of the estimated departure time, though three hours is the window that guarantees the highest level of safety. I pulled in about two and a half hours before the stated departure time, and proceeded to spend just over one hour to undergo security inspections after dropping off checked baggage.
I successfully made it through the gates with about twenty minutes to spare. In the end, our flight was delayed by a half hour anyway. The body of the plane was relatively new and spacious; no obstacles were experienced en route to LAX. (For the first time ever in all my travels to the West Coast, the passenger in front did not recline his/her chair to the height of my nose during flight.)
Despite the delayed takeoff, time was caught up during the flight and we landed at LAX only ten minutes behind schedule. Disembarking the aircraft, I set off to locate the baggage claim area. Signage was plentiful and the area was, in fact, fairly close to the arrival gate.
I successfully made it through the gates with about twenty minutes to spare. In the end, our flight was delayed by a half hour anyway. The body of the plane was relatively new and spacious; no obstacles were experienced en route to LAX. (For the first time ever in all my travels to the West Coast, the passenger in front did not recline his/her chair to the height of my nose during flight.)
Despite the delayed takeoff, time was caught up during the flight and we landed at LAX only ten minutes behind schedule. Disembarking the aircraft, I set off to locate the baggage claim area. Signage was plentiful and the area was, in fact, fairly close to the arrival gate.
The street exit was conveniently located next to the baggage claim area, and across the street was the hotel shuttle pick-up area. I initially attempted to find the shuttle corresponding to my place of stay, only to later discover that shuttles were not offered for my selection. Alternatives of taxis, Uber, or Super Shuttle were made aware to me. At this point, I had already waited close to one hour for a hotel shuttle.
The next step of action was to locate the Super Shuttle stop. From the information of two traffic regulators, I retraced my steps to find the Super Shuttle pickup area. Then, I relayed my desired destination to the man at the stop. He inquired if I had a reservation, to which I responded in the negative. My name was added to the list of passengers in need of a ride to downtown Los Angeles. More waiting was involved.
I almost collapsed in relief when the sight of a packed shuttle bus came into view. Stained, cramped seats were no longer of my concern – I merely wanted to drop off my belongings and begin the West Coast adventure.
The next step of action was to locate the Super Shuttle stop. From the information of two traffic regulators, I retraced my steps to find the Super Shuttle pickup area. Then, I relayed my desired destination to the man at the stop. He inquired if I had a reservation, to which I responded in the negative. My name was added to the list of passengers in need of a ride to downtown Los Angeles. More waiting was involved.
I almost collapsed in relief when the sight of a packed shuttle bus came into view. Stained, cramped seats were no longer of my concern – I merely wanted to drop off my belongings and begin the West Coast adventure.
Of course, the ride did not progress as smoothly as I would have liked. Congestion on the highway was ridiculous for a weekday morning – at off-peak hours no less! – and being the second-last stop on the shuttle, I did not arrive at my place of stay until three hours after I had landed.
After obtaining room keys and laying out my belongings in an orderly fashion, I changed into attire more fitting of LA conditions and set out to obtain a Tap card at 7th Street/Metro Centre.
After obtaining room keys and laying out my belongings in an orderly fashion, I changed into attire more fitting of LA conditions and set out to obtain a Tap card at 7th Street/Metro Centre.
Orangecane had warned me of the homeless culture in Los Angeles, though I had been much too distracted by the insane amount of construction taking place to acknowledge this. 7th Street/Metro Centre is listed as a main transfer point on the LA Metro Map, hence I had expected at least one service attendant available to answer my concerns regarding the public transit system. Instead of attendants, three to four fare machines were situated next to the turnstiles.
I descended the stairs while still gazing around in hopes of finding someone of greater knowledge to speak with. When my prayers were not answered, I strode onwards to the fare machines, only to recoil in shock upon laying eyes on a homeless man curled up behind one of the pillars. He had been entirely camouflaged from view until I had reached the underground level, rendering his appearance even more startling.
I descended the stairs while still gazing around in hopes of finding someone of greater knowledge to speak with. When my prayers were not answered, I strode onwards to the fare machines, only to recoil in shock upon laying eyes on a homeless man curled up behind one of the pillars. He had been entirely camouflaged from view until I had reached the underground level, rendering his appearance even more startling.
Reinstating focus towards the fare machines, I followed prompts for purchasing a Tap card with a loaded fare and a Day Pass. I had assumed the Tap card to work similarly with PRESTO in the GTA and Compass in British Columbia, while the Day Pass would be a separate, single-use card like TTC’s version. Little did I know that all fares were issued in the form of Tap card – both loaded fares and day passes. Before I had realized, I had purchased two identical-looking tap cards for $1 each. Worst of all, I tapped the wrong one when entering the turnstiles.
I had taken the time to download and visually scan the LA Metro map before departing, but still found the platforms difficult to navigate with limited familiarity. Directions (North/East/South/West) were not to be described anywhere. Wilshire/Western station was my desired destination, but there was no way of determining whether a train would be taking the Purple Line to Koreatown or Red Line to North Hollywood.
Somehow, I was able to reach Wilshire/Vermont station (the splitting point for the Purple and Red Lines) without having to backtrack. It was also a miracle to successfully join the remainder of the group at Palga Grand Hotel with zero knowledge of downtown Los Angeles and its neighbouring areas.
Somehow, I was able to reach Wilshire/Vermont station (the splitting point for the Purple and Red Lines) without having to backtrack. It was also a miracle to successfully join the remainder of the group at Palga Grand Hotel with zero knowledge of downtown Los Angeles and its neighbouring areas.
It was nearing 4 PM PST by this point, and not a single proper meal had been consumed since evening EST hours the night before. Palga Grand Hotel was not a hotel by any means – the rundown environment and lack of air conditioning was an immediate turnoff. Had my favourite fangirl and her friends not chosen such a questionable place of residence, I would have ducked out of the area immediately. The surrounding shops and businesses were dilapidated and well deserving of concern.
Not a single, normal-looking establishment was in sight, so the only option for soothing ravaging appetites was the Korean restaurant situated at the base of the motel – no, hostel – status building.
Sauntering in well after peak lunch hours, there was not but a single soul in Ondal, except the Korean aunties leisurely chatting away while watching TV. Their expressions informed me that service would be limited, if not nonexistent, and that I was more than welcome to walk right back out and leave them to their lazing about. My appetite required tending to though, so as much as I would have loved to sit myself down in a Subway or Quiznos, neither was a privilege I had access to.
The interior was reminiscent of any traditional Korean restaurant, so before menus had even been placed before me, I requested a bowl of Cold Noodles (물냉면). The middle-aged lady scoffed at me. “We are not a Korean restaurant! Seafood!” she spat at me.
Close to fainting, both from heat and hunger, I didn’t feel as if my desperate cry for sustenance justified such a crude response. Hurriedly scanning the two pages of items, I pointed towards one of the scarce few that did not feature a red chili pepper icon adjacent to it: Soybean Soup. The lady, in turn, wrinkled her nose at me.
I asked – almost pleaded – for a dish that would arrive quickly, yet instead the lady took her leisurely time in processing the order and spinning on her heel five minutes later to tell me that the spicy crab-based dishes would be faster picks.
Close to fainting, both from heat and hunger, I didn’t feel as if my desperate cry for sustenance justified such a crude response. Hurriedly scanning the two pages of items, I pointed towards one of the scarce few that did not feature a red chili pepper icon adjacent to it: Soybean Soup. The lady, in turn, wrinkled her nose at me.
I asked – almost pleaded – for a dish that would arrive quickly, yet instead the lady took her leisurely time in processing the order and spinning on her heel five minutes later to tell me that the spicy crab-based dishes would be faster picks.
The rest of the group joined me in good time, though it wasn’t until all orders had been placed that banchan were served to us. The side dishes were followed shortly by a small bowl of white rice and a bubbling pot of Soybean Soup.
Contrary to its supposed omission of spice, the broth was lined with a fiery film of vivid orange. Those with decent spice tolerances found the soup extremely mild, though the successive hits of spice gradually became too hot for me to handle. Within a couple of minutes, I had succeeded in shovelling down half the bowl of rice, all while speedily plucking banchan from the table spread.
Contrary to its supposed omission of spice, the broth was lined with a fiery film of vivid orange. Those with decent spice tolerances found the soup extremely mild, though the successive hits of spice gradually became too hot for me to handle. Within a couple of minutes, I had succeeded in shovelling down half the bowl of rice, all while speedily plucking banchan from the table spread.
At $9.99 USD (before tax and tip), my dish was amongst the most wallet-friendly of the menu selection. However, the price remained significantly higher than it was worth. No matter the quality, speed of delivery, dining environment, and service (or rather, lack thereof), Ondal failed to meet the fundamental requirements of a no-frills diner.
Washroom stalls were not present within the restaurant either: two stalls were located in the lobby of Palga Grand with number locks. Oddly enough, the bathrooms were the cleanest spaces in the entire structure.
Washroom stalls were not present within the restaurant either: two stalls were located in the lobby of Palga Grand with number locks. Oddly enough, the bathrooms were the cleanest spaces in the entire structure.
The rest of the group ordered savoury pancakes, crab, and bulgogi platters. Ultimately, the meal extended past 4:30 PM, causing me to miss the Jrodtwins performance panel entirely.
A fan panel for VIXX was set to take place at 4:30 PM, and seeing as the rest of the group was largely comprised of Starlights (VIXX fans), we set off to the convention centre after wrapping up the meal.
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The fan-operated panel neared its end as we creeped in through the doorway. It was of minimal interest to me, though we had arrived after the Artist Engagement sessions I had managed to secure passes for and the booths located within the convention were set to close at 6 PM anyway.
The girls voted in favour of retreating to their depressing dump of a hotel, while I was more keen to explore Koreatown before convention activities picked up the next day.
Continue reading Part 2 HERE !
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