“This Is Not Raleigh”
I BLAME IT ALL ON THE AIR CONDITIONING. Going from 97 degrees outside into a nice hyper-chilled building makes the brain transform into a head of lettuce. Spend some time in an Airport and watch it all turn into the Produce Section.
We just got back from another one of our visits to Family in Texas. The average temperature down there was a little cooler than molten lava. Of course it wasn’t much different than Indiana/Kilauea. Our flight from Indy to Houston took off during what I like to call “Lunchtime.” That is anytime after breakfast and before supper. I hate eating on an airplane and my attempt to do so on this latest flight didn’t change my opinion.
I try to go with minimum parts for anything I’m going to eat on a plane. Keep it simple. For this flight I opted to go with just a bagel and cream cheese – maximum of three parts counting both pieces of the sliced bagel. I’m seriously unidextrous. Asking me to hold something in one hand while using my other hand is a recipe for disaster. Add other factors like the tiny drop-down tray table, the little foil sealed cream cheese cups, and a plastic knife inside of its own plastic bag and I should have given up and munched on some peanuts.
My bagel was sliding all over the tray table and when the plane hit some turbulence… Well, it is not easy to get cream cheese off of my bifocal lenses. I ended up eating about half of the bagel before the other half disappeared. Let someone else find it and enjoy it.
I don’t think that there are direct flights to anywhere any longer. Changing planes somewhere is the norm now. While we were waiting for our connecting flight to Corpus Christi I heard an announcement for a flight leaving Houston, going to Denver, and then going onward to Boston! Who draws their maps Blackbeard The Pirate? Those poor souls getting on in Houston would have done better to join a Wagon Train.
There is not a lot to do in Airports. You can eat overpriced food, buy overpriced stuff you’ll never use again, or stare at the people wandering back and forth trying to heat up their frozen brain cells. The planes are icy and then they “deplane” and step into the Yeti cooler. The best (or worst) example of that was blasted all over the Houston Airport as I sat there in Suspended Animation.
The concerned Voice of Authority called out looking for a Mr. Robert Miller:
“Will Mr. Robert Miller please return to Gate 45. You are in Houston. This is not Raleigh!”
What combination of things had to go wrong for Mr. Robert Miller to get off of his airplane a couple of thousand miles early? Did he not hear the Pilot or the Flight Attendant say, “Welcome to Houston?”
If I harbored any thoughts that I was having a rough day they vanished when I heard that announcement and pondered the fate of Mr. Robert Miller. Is this how people disappear and are never seen again? They get off their plane too soon and end up building a new life in a strange city. That could explain how most Members of Congress end up in Washington D.C. for forty years.