Omelette flight

I was in a small desert town called San Antonio, but this place was on the border between Nevada and California, near Reno. I’d arrived there with friends via a small plane but then I was travelling to L.A. for some reason.

I was in a state of confusion and panicky. I had no idea when my flight was, where my tickets were or how the airport was even laid out. I knew I had a good few hours to kill however so went to a restaurant that was closed, the chef saw me try the door and cooked me an omelette so long as I helped him to do it. He was asking for a load of different and unusual herbs from a rotating rack on a counter however there was no order and some of the herbs I’d never even heard of before.

As I was eating, we started chatting and I explained my situation. The chef got out his phone to check which flights were happening between my location and LAX and saw it was only about 280 miles (it isn’t) in pretty much a straight line so just suggested walking it or hiring a car if I’d already missed my plane.