Wednesday, April 09, 2003
LEAVING SO SOON?
The Houston trip is almost over. Finally. Today, an old co-worker from my former job canceled dinner plans on me because of a work-related emergency. Aside from that, it was more of the same Camp Gitmo-style torture in the training class, which mercifully ended an hour early. Then a con man tried to get my money. It was quite a final day to a memorable sojourn.
The con man was pretty slick, although he didn't have much stick-to-it-ive-ness. He gunned his white rental car and screeched to a stop between me and the hotel room side door as I was bringing back my drive-through bar-b-cue (yes, they have that in Houston, and thank God). He emerged from the vehicle perfectly coiffed with a starched white shirt, suspenders and slacks, shook my hand, and started prattling on in a deep Texas drawl about how he is down here from Dallas and his credit card is maxed out. I simply said, "No, I can't help you, sorry," and he was on his way to another potential stooge. I quickly scurried to my hotel room to await the next bit of strangeness. Nothing so far, although I have until 7:55 AM tomorrow morning.
You think 12 hours is too much time to wait in the airport?
The Houston trip is almost over. Finally. Today, an old co-worker from my former job canceled dinner plans on me because of a work-related emergency. Aside from that, it was more of the same Camp Gitmo-style torture in the training class, which mercifully ended an hour early. Then a con man tried to get my money. It was quite a final day to a memorable sojourn.
The con man was pretty slick, although he didn't have much stick-to-it-ive-ness. He gunned his white rental car and screeched to a stop between me and the hotel room side door as I was bringing back my drive-through bar-b-cue (yes, they have that in Houston, and thank God). He emerged from the vehicle perfectly coiffed with a starched white shirt, suspenders and slacks, shook my hand, and started prattling on in a deep Texas drawl about how he is down here from Dallas and his credit card is maxed out. I simply said, "No, I can't help you, sorry," and he was on his way to another potential stooge. I quickly scurried to my hotel room to await the next bit of strangeness. Nothing so far, although I have until 7:55 AM tomorrow morning.
You think 12 hours is too much time to wait in the airport?
HOUSTON, WE HAVE BOREDOM
Day 3 brought yet another very long day of training. It turns out that the woman who got up and left early yesterday had wet clothes. She had taken another co-worker back to their hotel during a break because he was sick, and it had been raining heavily at the time. She sat there in the class in silent discomfort for about an hour until she just couldn't take anymore. Very odd.
This episode inadvertently led me to having to take in an Astros game alone. I had bought four tickets when I knew I was coming to Houston, in the hopes that I could get three of my classmates to go with me. The guy who was sick and another female co-worker, not the one with the wet clothing, had indicated that they wanted to go, but when the guy got sick, the woman decided, I suppose, that a night out with me would be less preferable than sitting alone watching TV in a medium priced hotel room in a strange city, which is not a unique appraisal. I don't mind watching baseball games alone, but it's becoming too much of a habit. I think I am the only baseball fan left, sometimes. The 18,547 idiots at Minute Maid Park last night hardly qualify. You can build the people of Houston a beautiful new ballpark, but they still can't show up on time, sit the fuck down and watch the damn game.
Well, it looks like Saddam has joined the choir invisible. His head will be shortly on its way to Kennebunkport to be presented to George H.W. Bush in a bizarre Yale Skull and Bones ritual. And now the real fun starts. Not here of course. I'll be on an uncomfortable flight back to my usual boring life all too soon.
Late note: Paula Zahn is interviewing embedded journalist Luke Hunt on CNN. I thought she said something else when she introduced him by his full name.
Day 3 brought yet another very long day of training. It turns out that the woman who got up and left early yesterday had wet clothes. She had taken another co-worker back to their hotel during a break because he was sick, and it had been raining heavily at the time. She sat there in the class in silent discomfort for about an hour until she just couldn't take anymore. Very odd.
This episode inadvertently led me to having to take in an Astros game alone. I had bought four tickets when I knew I was coming to Houston, in the hopes that I could get three of my classmates to go with me. The guy who was sick and another female co-worker, not the one with the wet clothing, had indicated that they wanted to go, but when the guy got sick, the woman decided, I suppose, that a night out with me would be less preferable than sitting alone watching TV in a medium priced hotel room in a strange city, which is not a unique appraisal. I don't mind watching baseball games alone, but it's becoming too much of a habit. I think I am the only baseball fan left, sometimes. The 18,547 idiots at Minute Maid Park last night hardly qualify. You can build the people of Houston a beautiful new ballpark, but they still can't show up on time, sit the fuck down and watch the damn game.
Well, it looks like Saddam has joined the choir invisible. His head will be shortly on its way to Kennebunkport to be presented to George H.W. Bush in a bizarre Yale Skull and Bones ritual. And now the real fun starts. Not here of course. I'll be on an uncomfortable flight back to my usual boring life all too soon.
Late note: Paula Zahn is interviewing embedded journalist Luke Hunt on CNN. I thought she said something else when she introduced him by his full name.
Monday, April 07, 2003
THE HOUSTON CHRONICLES, CONTINUED
Ok, try this three-word phrase on for size: Strip Mall Churches. That's Houston.
Also, you have the Irresistible Force of Arctic Air Conditioning ever doing battle with the Immovable Object of Stifling Arm Pit Humidity.
My fellow trainees are feeling about as frisky for this class as I am. Today I witnessed the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. With about 5 minutes left in one of the longest days I've ever endured, one of my classmates inexplicably started packing up her things and simply left, while the instructor was in mid-sentence. Another woman in the class had ridden with the first woman from their hotel, so she had no choice but to leave also. The rest of us looked at each other, a bit stunned. The instructor, faced with a mutiny, simply stopped talking and said, "OK, see you tomorrow." Sheer brilliance. If only she had done it 20 minutes earlier.
Ok, try this three-word phrase on for size: Strip Mall Churches. That's Houston.
Also, you have the Irresistible Force of Arctic Air Conditioning ever doing battle with the Immovable Object of Stifling Arm Pit Humidity.
My fellow trainees are feeling about as frisky for this class as I am. Today I witnessed the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. With about 5 minutes left in one of the longest days I've ever endured, one of my classmates inexplicably started packing up her things and simply left, while the instructor was in mid-sentence. Another woman in the class had ridden with the first woman from their hotel, so she had no choice but to leave also. The rest of us looked at each other, a bit stunned. The instructor, faced with a mutiny, simply stopped talking and said, "OK, see you tomorrow." Sheer brilliance. If only she had done it 20 minutes earlier.
JUNKET BONDING
I'm writing this in a hotel room in Houston, a city that is a diverse, cosmopolitan mecca of commerce, and also a sprawling, garish, Southern white-trash, Christian Coalition hick town at the same time. And it seems very comfortable in its own peculiar skin. I'm here for a training class, which I intend to mentally process the same way I do reruns of "Wings", which is to say, with extremely detached and very, very slight amusement. So, basically, it's a junket, a chance to escape the mundanity of my normal work week for another, slightly different mundanity in another city.
So far, it's been fun. I was greeted by a wake-up cockroach in my bathtub, which is always a nice touch. The high-speed Internet connection is working, which it should considering you could pay about a hundred migrant workers to hand carry notes back and forth to their destinations for the amount of money they are charging.
I should mention that I once lived in the suburbs of Houston for six years, so this is also a homecoming of sorts. It should give me a chance to connect with some old friends and see the old places, all of which I will probably forego to look at porn on the Spectravision.
More later as my adventure unfolds. Now, where's that remote?
I'm writing this in a hotel room in Houston, a city that is a diverse, cosmopolitan mecca of commerce, and also a sprawling, garish, Southern white-trash, Christian Coalition hick town at the same time. And it seems very comfortable in its own peculiar skin. I'm here for a training class, which I intend to mentally process the same way I do reruns of "Wings", which is to say, with extremely detached and very, very slight amusement. So, basically, it's a junket, a chance to escape the mundanity of my normal work week for another, slightly different mundanity in another city.
So far, it's been fun. I was greeted by a wake-up cockroach in my bathtub, which is always a nice touch. The high-speed Internet connection is working, which it should considering you could pay about a hundred migrant workers to hand carry notes back and forth to their destinations for the amount of money they are charging.
I should mention that I once lived in the suburbs of Houston for six years, so this is also a homecoming of sorts. It should give me a chance to connect with some old friends and see the old places, all of which I will probably forego to look at porn on the Spectravision.
More later as my adventure unfolds. Now, where's that remote?
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