Home Again

I was supposed to have a flight out of my little bitty home town at 6:20 this morning.

At 1:30 in the morning, a nice lady from Orbitz called to gleefully inform me that flight had been canceled. I had, subsequently, been booked on a flight leaving ten hours later at 4:20 in the afternoon.

So, when life hand you lemons, and you're in South Texas . . .
. . . you have Tex-Mex for lunch:
Now folks, this is real Tex-Mex. Enchilada, tamale, rice and beans. The chile con carne covering the enchilada and tamale are like nothing you'd find outside of South Texas. And those refried beans? I wish you could taste the manteca de puerco (pork lard) that they're made with. This meal also came with a taco and a chalupa on another platter.
Price? $7.75

My mom was only-so-happy to have her son with her another ten hours, so we went out for Tex-Mex one last time before I left.

When I got to the little airport, I asked why my original flight had been canceled and she said it was due to fog. I thought, "Don't these planes have sonar or something that enables them to fly in fog?" Apparently not.

So, I finally got on the little bitty airplane. It taxied to the end of the runway and stopped.

And stayed there.

Finally, the pilot announced that we'd be sitting there for a half hour due to air traffic being congested in Houston. The flight attendant served all five of us on board while we waited.

I was a little anxious because I knew I had to transfer from Terminal A to Terminal E in Houston which is no easy feat. The Houston airport used to have these cool little automated tram-things that would efficiently scoot you from one terminal to another in, like, 15 seconds.

Then they did away with them. I don't know why.

Now, they have old-fashioned buses that arrive, like, every 15 minutes and schlep you from Terminal A . . . to Terminal B . . . to Terminal C. . .

I knew I'd be cutting it close. . . .

Then, the pilot came on and announced that we'd be waiting there another 30 minutes.

Finally, after an hour of waiting, he turned the engines back on and we took off. I'd have 35 minutes to make it from Terminal A to E if all went well.

I made it there just as the flight was being boarded. I didn't have time to grab anything for dinner; barely time to pee from all the Diet Coke that had been supplied on the little bitty plane.

It was sunny, humid, and 80 degrees when I left South Texas.

It was clear and a brisk 16 degrees at O'Hare when I arrived at 10 pm.

Surprisingly, my luggage made the connection in Houston even though I barely did. After retrieving my luggage, I hopped on Chicago's trusty El and scooted home to my little apartment.

It was late, I hadn't had anything to eat nor did I really have anything in the kitchen to prepare.

So, when life hands you lemons and your flight is ten hours late into Chicago . .

. . . You have a big, honkin' Chicago style deep dish anchovy pizza delivered!
No, I'm not going to eat the whole thing. . . . Please.
I'm not that much of a pig. I ate two pieces and will freeze the rest in two-piece increments.

Anyway, it's good to be home. It was also pretty great to have celebrated the epitome of cuisines from South Texas and Northern Illinois all in one day.