Sometimes the World Makes me Smile

Jun 05, 2007 20:31

The past couple of weeks have been quite a whirlwind of activity. It doesn't seem that long ago that I was laying out in the grass at Chrysalis, enjoying a fine cigar, wine, and the excellent weather. The good life!



So I decided to go visit a couple of friends in Houston for Memorial Day weekend. I figured since my flight out of National was at 7:30pm, and it was Friday afternoon, and Memorial Day weekend, I would get to the airport very early, just in case. So the cabbie picks me up at my place at 4pm. We made it to National by 4:22pm. Usually I would be rather annoyed at the concept of waiting 3 hours in the airport for my flight (because we all know if I left my place at 5pm, then the GW Parkway would have been a parking lot), but someone must have called the airport and let them know that I was coming, because there were a whole hella lot of talent (ta-alent : vernacular term for very attractive women ages 21 to 38). I believe they imported them from all over the DC metro area, just for me. With my eyes thoroughly entertained, I wiled away the hours until my travel buddies joined me for our flight.

We go through security, and of course guess who gets singled out for the bag search (we all only took carry-ons with us, no checked bags). If you said the petite girl who wouldn't hurt a fly, then you win a prize! They ignored the two 6' + Arab boys (though technically Buzz looks pretty whitey), and instead searched through her whole carryon bag. We were highly amused. We board the plane, and can I just say, I'm glad I started adjusting my eating and exercising habits back in March, cause even with 20lbs lost it was a TIGHT fit on that 737-700. So knees touching (they weren't exactly jammed, but definitely in contact with) the seat in front of me, we take off into the great blue yonder. We're not even up to cruising altitude yet, when the person in front of me decides he wants to recline his seat. Fair enough, it is a 3 hour flight, but seats really don't have much leeway to recline when there are two rather large knees attached to the back of the seat. Once, twice, and a third time the person tried to shove their seat back, and each time it didn't really work very well. He then turned around and gave me this highly annoyed and disgusted look, turned back around, and tried to push his seat back yet again. Now, Bassam brought up a good point, that you pay for a seat, and you expect to be able to enjoy reclining it, and I do agree with him, but it should be pointed out that I had contacted the airline when I bought my ticket, and explained my height and size, and the fact that I walk with a cane due to a back injury, and asked if I could reserve a bulkhead or emergency row seat. I was told no. I then asked if I bought an extra ticket for myself (why not, I'm willing to pay 2X the ticket price for comfort), would they guarantee that they would not put any standby passengers in that seat. Again they said no.

I digress. Through the whole flight, this person In front kept pushing his seat back, throwing himself back into it, and basically being a jerk. Now In the old days, this would have led to a few words on my part, then a chokehold and throw to the ground to show this person the error of his ways. However, in these days of heightened security, and me being of this lovely shading I like to call "homeland security brown", I tend to avoid causing trouble on airplanes. In all cases, we land in Houston and after the longest taxi in the history of mankind, get to the gate and start disembarking. The person ends up being in front of me as we're walking up the jet way, and I'm pondering if it's worth my time to lay the smack down on his passive aggressive ass. I had just started thinking that its not worthy my time, when the universe made the move for me. Apparently someone wasn't watching where he was going, and someone didn't see the gap between the jetway and the airport building. And as he felt the loving embrace of gravity, followed by the harsh reality of the concrete floor slamming into his face, I had two clear choices: laugh my ass off, or laugh my ass off while rolling on the floor. *sigh* Deciding I would be the better person; I offered my hand and asked him if he was ok, and if he needed help up. OH MY GOD, if looks could kill. The guy looked like he wanted to rip me from limb to limb. Too bad for Mr. Napoleon complex, I could break him in half. Too bad, so sad. So I walk into the terminal laughing the whole way to the car park.

Whereas most of what happened in Houston, we're going to keep in the "What happens in H-town, stays in H-town" category, there are a few blog-safe highlights that I must share. First, the tex mex in Houston is AMAZING. Obviously I expected good tex-mex in TEXAS, but Oh holy lord. Our friends that we were staying at took us to this placed called Americas. They had this flank steak…… it was so tender and delicious; I didn't even need a knife to cut into my 16 ounces of rarified steak happiness. Then there were the Tres Leches. Tres Leches = Morphine laced with opium, laced with E, laced with 10,000 simultaneous orgasms, all in one plate of heavenly goodness.

The second day we were there, we went to visit one of our other friends who lives outside of H-town. Her mom made a "snack" for us. Take my advice, if a 60 year old Pakistani grandmother tells you she made you a snack… starve yourself for 2 days before hand. Her idea of "snack" was a huge pot of chicken baryani, marag ribyan (shrimp curry), stir fried beef, homemade chabati bread, the best spaghetti boulanaise ever made in the history of mankind (sorry mom), and enough desert pastries to feed the population of Lahore. And Tres Leches J.

Our hosts did an amazingly incredible job of hosting! Their house was awesome, and it was 5 mins from d/t Houston, so we didn't have to drive far to get anywhere. I have to keep reminding myself that not all housing markets are crazy like DC's! They cooked breakfast for us every morning, and took us around all over the place, and dotted over us. It was funny seeing them be so domestic, since usually their visiting DC, and we're just out at Gazuza's or Chicha Lounge partying. And then there was Bella.

Bella is a 4lb (maybe) dockson that lives with our hosts. I would say she's their dog, but really, their her humans. She is so cute and adorable, running around being friendly to everyone, and generally getting spoiled rotten. Apparently when we left, she ran into every room in the house, sniffing, and looking for us, then when she couldn't find us, she came all the way back down to the garage, and started running into every room frantically looking for us and crying. Our hosts called us at the airport to put Bella on the phone, so we could hear how sad she was. It was so cute.

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