Disclaimer: I know that this writing does not portray Houston or the Houston airport in the best light and I hope that any Texans reading this can detect my sarcasm. Also I know I will never be a Texan, especially since I currently live in Austin, but I do appreciate the state. In order to show my loyalty, I promise while I am away hiking my Nalgene bottles will be filled will Lone Star and our camp stove will only be fired with mesquite.
Obviously our blog is about the PCT and hopefully our journey from the beginning in Campo, CA to the end in Manning Park, Canada. Even though this is the first entry, it has nothing to do with the trail, but focuses more on what you do before you attempt it and that is see the people and places that mean the most to you. Today is Friday the 13th and that is one of those days where you are looking for something unlucky to occur or for Murphy's law engulf you and whatever your current goal is. Today I was on my way home to Mississippi to see my parental units (my coworkers term for parents) and of course my second flight of the day was delayed due to mechanical difficulties with the plane.
As everyone knows this is never the information that you are looking to receive when waiting to board any aircraft, but it is absolutely the last thing that you want to hear when you are possibly boarding what looks like a 1942 crop duster with dual propellers that has recently been resurrected from some mid-western field. Upon hearing this information, what do you do? If you don't know me well, travel is what I do, and after spending close to 1/3 of last year's nights in a hotel room or corporate housing as a business traveler, this was not my first delayed flight. Normally I'd sit back watch a movie on my iPad and hope to notice once boarding had commenced, but when you are preparing for a 2665+ mile hike when you have a spare moment, you walk. Then you when you finish walking, you walk some more, and then you eat so that you get enough calories to walk some more the next day.
So today instead of walking around Lady Bird Lake my feet lead me around the Houston airport in terminal A. Now if you have yet to experience Terminal A at the Houston airport, don't rush over there just yet. Believe it or not there is not that much to see in Terminal A. It appears to be pretty similar to what you would see if you ventured outside of the airport into the city of Houston. There is concrete, followed by more concrete, and a lot of windows. Nonetheless this is where I am so this is where I walk. I am now passing gate 1...3...7...23 and then I walk back and do it all over again.
My mind wanders as Joe Purdy wails in my headphones. Ten minutes pass and then thirty, there goes Starbucks, restrooms, more concrete and then I pass this green iron tree sculpture for probably the third time and it finally catches my eye. This may be the only tree that can "survive" in this concrete paradise and I am struck with a realization that I have had many times before which was to open my eyes and be
grateful for what surrounds you, that which right in front of you. Don't miss the moment. Even in this white marble desert there is something worth seeing, you just have to come out of the trance that your daily life puts you in and notice it. I learned that lesson a long time ago when I got into photography and by got into photography I mean bought a DSLR camera. Holding that camera taught me that lesson and somewhere along the way, that was lost, but once again it is learned and now the trick will be holding on to it.
I am sure that may sound cliche and like something that a flake or a tree hugger might say, but who cares at this point? I just left my job of almost 7 years so that I can go hike for 6 months. Me making a comment is the last thing that I need to worry about making me look like a hippie. What will probably give me away will be the long hair and the "natural aroma" from long stretches of showerless days in the California sunshine.
I'm now on the way back to gate A1 and I am hoping that possibly by now they have replaced the rubber bands and duct tape that hold together this plastic rocket that I am wanting to board. All I can think is that there is no way Friday the 13th can take me down now. I am so close to seeing the parental units, my 800 year old dog, and then I am off to the Sierras with a beautiful woman who is crazy enough to walk by my side. Miraculously, just as I am walking up to the gate they call for zone 1 to board. As I am taking my seat, the Joe Purdy song I was listening to before keeps playing in my head, "I can see blue in the sky when it's raining..." now that lyric completely makes sense and I knew it would not be long before I would see my family and eat a little bit of fried everything.
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