I got hit by an awful lot of insects, but the armour just absorbed them.
When we finally got to Anaheim, I switched from vehicle to vehicle, riding the roofs as I followed the street map I'd memorised, and jumped off a block short of the Magnificat. I found a quiet side street, and armoured down when no one was looking. And just like that, I was just another tourist, wandering happily down the street. The air was blisteringly hot again, and so thick with pollution you could practically chew the stuff, but that's what you get for living in the real world. No one paid me any attention as I joined the throng in the main street, heading for the Magnificat. There's nothing memorable in my appearance. I've gone to great pains to appear to be just another face in the crowd. Field agents are trained to blend in, and not be noticed. It's a useful skill for a field agent, not looking like anyone in particular. The last thing you want in this business is to be noticed or remembered.
Even when I was still a long way off, I could see the Magnificat Hotel. It was the tallest building for miles, a massive steel and glass block that towered over everything else, effortlessly dominating the scene without a single trace of character or style in its appearance. The neon sign with the hotel's name was almost brutally ugly. Everything about the building shouted that it was there to serve a purpose, nothing more. All very efficient, but a total pain in the arse to look at. Ugly buildings are like ugly women-you can't help feeling someone should have made more of an effort. I said this to my girlfriend Molly once, and she hit me. I've got a lot more careful about what I say out loud since I acquired a girlfriend. I still think things, though. Sometimes very loudly.