"Looking good!" His polished blonde hair, starched shirt, and feminine wave of the hand told me I was no longer in the Bush.
"Are you sporting the new fall 2008 look?" he asked.
I wore my Canadian Tilly Hat with the golden colored feather fly that I "won" attached to the hat's right side for catching and releasing a 24 pound trout in Dragon Lake.
My first fly-fishing expedition.
Before I could answer, the Delta flight attendant said,
"Okay, cutie, you're set."
His eyes floated behind me.
"Next!"
I'd crossed the line from roughing it in the Bush to Stylin' U.S.A. headed to the faux fashion capital of the world:
Los Angeles.
I'd woken in Banff, and truly didn't want to leave except for the fact I learned there were several wildlife sightings on the resort property, which included grizzlies, black bears, and cougars thanks to wildberry season, which got into high gear--on both sides of many Banff roadways--in the past three days, the time of my arrival.
I saw a black bear across the street from where I slept.
Other than that, and the fact there'd been a few bear attacks on humans within the past few weeks throughout Alberta and British Columbia, I felt at peace with my desire to remain in Canada.
But when I researched the time and hassle cost of taking a bus to Vancouver (2 days/1 hotel night) enroute to the 3 1/2 ferry ride to Victoria, lugging a suitcase and camera/computer equipment, I decided that my 2 month trip had come to comma, (not a period) and it was time to go to that place I currently know as home.
So I flew into that familiar conversation heard throughout Los Angeles, as we were about to land at LAX,
"Is that haze or smog?"
And I arrived to sunny Southern California's main airport terminal. This is what I saw: 
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