Going back to Houston

There are times that various bits of songs, lyrics or music stick in your head. As I checked into the airport in Panama and noticed again that I had a plane change in Houston that is exactly what happened.

Going Back to Houston has lyrics I believe by Bobby Bare but was mostly made famous by that old crooner Dean Martin. The YouTube link I have provided dates from 1965. Although what looking cool in a tuxedo has to do with being a lonely bum on the road in bad clothes and holely shoes is beyond me.

Anyway, I am not even sure that I have ever been in Houston before.

The mountains and hills of Panama passed lush and green beneath the wings of my plane as we soar north and east toward the United States.  Flocks of clouds like wooly sheep dot the landscape with the occasional sparkle and glint of as light reflects off vehicles and windshields winding their way along steep and narrow track roads below.  Flying over Gatun, the locks, the reservoir lake all muddy from the recent rain and run off, I spot the steady parade of ships headed to the Atlantic.  Vanishing quickly behind us, the ground below is rapidly covered by a thicker blanket of clouds. The end of the line of ships will shortly be replaced by those headed for distant far eastern destinations as we fly over the harbor and out over the Caribbean.

The plane is full, my camera is in my bag. I have iPod, bookreader and knitting for the flight.

Deplaning in Houston doesn’t do anything for the song stuck in my head, nor do I seem to please the security people as I eschew the full body scanner in favor of a pat down. Just to make sure that I don’t ever get comfortable, Continental changes my outbound three times (including two terminal changes) just to keep me entertained during the wait.

Since wifi is not free, knitting had to suffice.   It is at the point of finishing one project and wanting to start the next that I realize I left a printed pattern on the last flight.  Reorganizing the bag again, out comes my Hoxbro shawl for a few rows (200+ rows feels like forever).  I will have to find a different choice since smaller is better on planes.

By the time I arrive in Miami, it is almost 2300. Using the airport phone, I find out that the LaQuita shuttle is on its last run and my luggage has not yet arrived. There is also a difference between blue and yellow cabs I am informed by the dispatchers as I have to stand aside in the cab line while dozens after me are sent on their merry way. Since there seems to be only one of the correct color, I offer to share with the other soul who is attempting to get to a local hotel. Good deal for the cabby since he is paid by passenger rather than metered run.

A/C to stave off the hot and humid air. Clean sheets and waffles for breakfast at LaQuinta. What more could I want? Oh, yes – the free wifi works.

La Quinta Inn, Miami Airport East

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