Twilight is Dawning (or some thing like that...)

I've said goodbye to Mac and Gwyn, Gordon and the girl-dogs again (getting to be a habit, huh???) and headed back to California. I made it successfully after an epic wrestling match with the Suitcases From Hell and far too much hand luggage. Delta Airlines didn't like my crash helmet. They wanted to put it in the hold...
EEERRRRMMM, I don't THINK so...

... so I politely explained the importance of not letting it out of my sight to get knocked and internally stress fractured, whereby the first I'd know about it would be if I came off my bike at 100+kph and both the hat and my head split wide open. They considered this graphic little vision, nodded sagely, chewed their lips in contemplation for a few seconds, then said they still didn't like it. So, I argued the toss and when that didn't sway them either, I let myself get a little agitated, and then, right out of the blue, with no warning to anyone, I hit them straight in the face (so to speak) with The Look - the one that even the toughened, badass Macster lives in quaking fear of. Guess what, folks? Yep! The sea parted. The Delta people whimpered for a few seconds then stopped ranting at me, stepped aside, and let me on the plane with the helmet. RESULT. A woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do. I wasn't gonna have a seven hundred dollar crash hat thrown into the hold to bounce around for thousands of miles like your average happy football. No, no-no-no. I'd rather succumb to that awful temptation to manipulate somebody into giving me some leeway, than risk losing my head. Although, to be fair, some might argue that such event happened a long time ago, and they may well be correct (she said, with a disturbingly insane, vacant grin on her face).

I'm reliably informed that the weather is less than troppo at home, and guess who stoopidly shipped her one and only jacket with the bike, so I'm still deciding whether or not I really wanna go, or whether I should stay here in happy Los Angeles, with the most stressed and unhelpful people on the planet, most of whom drive cars and are actively trying to kill pedestrians at every conceivable opportunity, because aside from the perils of crossing the streets, which thus far has proved far more hazardous than the worst day on the worst road on The Bomb, its warm and sunny, and the hotel has a pool and cute staff, and its close to a good shopping mall with a Macy's, where the shoe sale continues, and with a ton of yummy restaurants less than a block away, and the beach is close, and... ooops... dammit ... small detail of having reached the end of the holiday budget, happening. Ah, well, I miss all 21 legs and 7 tails of the critters at home, anyway, so it looks like I'll be taking off and landing a couple more times yet.

Oh well, better brace meeself for another round in the boxing ring over the helmet, this time with Air New Zealand. Yippee. I'm praying to be checked in by a fellow motorcyclist. What a bonus that would be...