Travel Discouraged

"Travel Discouraged: Icy Roads," reads the Amber Alert as I drive south on I-45 this morning headed for one of Houston's hearing locations. I'm in the middle of an ice "storm" that has been forecasted for days. Icemaggedon they're calling it on the radio. An official winter storm warning is in effect until at least noon. The highway is pretty bare and there is no traffic to fight. I wonder who else is driving to work today as it looks like most everybody has stayed home.

Last night I watched the news and the list of school closings scrolling across the bottom of the screen. I checked the website for hearing office closures. As a teacher, this had been standard procedure when rough weather hit the Houston area, but as an attorney I wasn't sure this was typical behavior or not. It's not like I had to ride a bus with 30 other attorneys to get to work where I would meet hundreds of other attorneys who had also travelled by bus. I was one person that needed to get to one office to meet up with just a handful of other professionals and clients. The chance that my hearings would be canceled were slim I knew, but it's always nice to hope.

I woke up this morning still hoping. Turned on the news. Checked the website. No luck. Oh well. I take the dog out and, not sure how to handle the crunchy grass, she takes an inordinate amount of time to find the perfect spot to pee. I grab my computer bag, bundle up in my winter coat and scarf, and head to the car. It's covered in ice. Now, I know I live in the South and Houstonians do tend to freak out over the slightest hint of suboptimal weather, but my car truly was covered in ice. I yank open my nearly stuck car door, turn on my front and rear defrosters and grab my ice scraper from the back seat. Shocker that I own one and keep one in my car I know! A remnant from my Utah days (there it is again, yes, I've lived in Utah). I set to work on scraping off the ice. I'm not making much progress and I let the defrosters warm up a bit. The lady in the car next to me is just sitting there with the car running and waiting. It looks like her car is almost all defrosted and driveable. I don't think she had a scraper.

I get in the car and safely make it to I-45 where I see the Amber Alert: Travel Discouraged. I laugh at this. I travel all over for work and here I was driving to my local office just 18 miles away and I was being discouraged. Specifically by the Houston Mayor and Harris County Commissioner. If you absolutely must drive, they cautioned, Avoid Bridges and Overpasses! Despite knowing this, I haven't made up my mind if I will take the high overpass from I-45 onto Beltway 8 like I usually do. As the overpass comes into view, I see cars on it, a potentially a good sign, but they aren't moving. At all. There is a government vehicle at the top of the overpass that has stopped all traffic. Those cars won't be going anywhere. For a long time. There is no shoulder and it's one lane. An hour later when I drive by this overpass again, the same cars are still there. I wonder how long they were stuck there.

Given the situation, I opt to be a mindful citizen and stick to the frontage road and avoid the Beltway all together. There are patches of this highway that are closed as well.

I make it to the hearing office and see just 2 cars in the parking lot. A good indication that something was up. And there on the door was a sign "Office Closed." Wahoo - Weather Day! I don't know if the exhilaration of a weather day ever wears off but so far it hasn't. Mr. Washington, our office security guard, comes out and let's me duck inside for a bit. I'm informed the office is closed until Noon so no hearings that morning. I have two hearings set for the afternoon and I'll just have to call back after 9:00 when a decision will be made regarding the remainder of the day.

Some of my weather day enthusiasm subsides and I return to my car to call my first two clients with the news. I decide to head home and wait to see what the hearing office will do. On my way down 45 I do hit some ice on the bridge, but I'm going 35 mph so I have no trouble and my car stays in the lane.

I stop by the padres on my way home to see how they're faring (a little sarcasm here). No work for them either. I chit chat a bit and give my morning traffic report. The hour is up and I call the office. The recorded message states, "The hearing office will be closed ALL day." Yes! Again, not sure why I'm so excited. I'll have to make up those hearings and it's not like I won't be working from home all day anyway. But still, the satisfaction of getting out of something you were required to do is always sweet.

With the news, I head to my apartment where I bundle up in fuzzy boots and a sweatshirt and cook myself some chili. Usually it is cancelled travel that keeps me from my hearings. But today, after traveling safely and successfully, it is cancelled hearings themselves that keep me. Gotta love Houston weather days!

Ok, I know what you're thinking. But this pic was taken at 11:30 after my car had been running for 2 hours and after it had stopped raining. It was covered completely and solidly in ice at 7:00 a.m. Promise. But fine, feel free to laugh.

Stranded in Houston

I'm sitting in a hotel room in Alexandria, LA that has no internet service. I forgot to book my hotel until yesterday and the only room I could get close to budget was in this hotel where the doors open to the outside. I hate hotels like this. Not only are they cheap, but I'm super paranoid about who might be walking outside my door. The front desk lady said the reason for the no vacancies and expensive hotel stays this week was due to a Pentecostal Conference. That made me feel a little better. At least the noises outside my door tonight will be the soft foot-steps of humble church-goers as opposed to the footfalls of shady miscreants. At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

Last week I booked hotel stays for 5 nights. Sunday – Corpus Christi. Monday – Harlingen. Tuesday – Lafayette. Wednesday & Thursday – back to Harlingen. Because I would be spending most of the week in South Texas, I decided to drive to Corpus Christi and then on to Harlingen with my personal vehicle. To get to Lafayette I bought round trip airfare out of Harlingen with layovers in Houston and left my car at the Harlingen airport.

On my flight out of Harlingen I met some Winter Texans. They were clearly identified by their age (over 70) and their jackets embossed with the words “Winter Texans.” They were from Manitoba and were staying in the Harlingen area for 3 months. And no, they were not headed back to Canada. They were off to Vegas for the weekend. Retirement must be hard.

My trip to Lafayette went well. While I was there, I was admonished by an expert to learn how to pronounce French names if I was going to do hearings in Louisiana. I don't care if Cajuns pronounce Richard, Ree-shard. Richard is also an English name, is it not?

During my layover in Houston, on my return trip to Harlingen, I struck up a nice conversation with a guy who asked to borrow my computer power cord. He was headed to Bakersfield, home of my older sister, and was returning from a trip to Ireland with his parents. He mentioned he had considered moving his company to Houston due to the cheap real estate. I told him he should. (His company makes drugs for horses – at least that's how I understood it.) The conversation soured a little when religion came up (let's clear the air now – yes, I have lived in Utah), but he did promise to say hello to my sis should he ever bump into her.

My flight was supposed to leave right after the Bakersfield flight, but then the announcement came that the mechanics were being called out to take a look at the plane. I saw the mechanics with my own eyes so it must have been an actual problem, not one they make up when the flight isn't full. After several minutes, the dreaded announcement came - the flight had been canceled.

For some reason, I wasn't too upset. Stranded in Houston – I'm okay with that. I live here! I jumped at the chance to sleep in my own bed. While I waited in line for new flight information, I remembered that although I was here, and my bed was here, my car was not. Doh. Ok, not the best situation obviously, but that's okay. I'll sleep in the hotel the airline provides, take the 9:00 a.m flight, and will just have to miss my 8:30 a.m. hearing. There's nothing I can do about it. In fact, I was secretly happy that I would get out my hearing.

But then I remembered that although my hearing was in Harlingen, and my client would be there, the Judge was in Houston*. And the Judge knew me. And the Judge knew I was from Houston. And the Judge would not understand why I missed my hearing because my flight got canceled when I live in Houston and should be in Houston at the very least. Despite wanting to cry, which is usually what happens in these situations, I started laughing. The reality was I hadn't been home all week. The reality was that I did not have a vehicle. The reality was my car was in Harlingen! The reality was I may be home but I was stranded.

Feeling like a visitor in my hometown, I board the rental car shuttle bus and make my way to the rental car center. Trying to explain to the agent how it is that I got stranded in my hometown without a vehicle while my vehicle was actually in the place where I was trying to go was a bit interesting.

My rental options included a Nissan Versa or a Volkswagon Beetle. The agent decided to give me the Beetle because her first date was in a Beetle and I would have fun. She did admit that her first date in the Beetle was also her last, so they couldn't be that fun. And let's be honest, when a big Texas-sized pick-up truck pulled up beside me at the red light, I wanted to roll down my window and let him know, “I didn't pick this car.”

While the car was not my own, it did take me safely to my wonderful apartment where for five blissful hours I slept in my own bed. I ate gluten-free cereal for breakfast. I checked my mail. I picked up my swimsuit for the extra night I was now planning in South Padre. It never felt so good to be home and I did not want to leave....but I did want my car. If I could pick any superpower, it would be the power to teleport. Hands. Down. I wanted my home and my car (and my dog!) but I wanted them together. I felt oddly unsettled without my vehicle.

My hearing in Houston was fine and my client in Harlingen never showed (of course). I eventually made it back to Harlingen for the next day's hearing and was reunited with my beloved Toyota Corolla. I can't tell you how happy I was to be back with her. (After seven years, I've finally decided my car is a she.) I think I was more excited to be back with my car after realizing what home would be like without her than I was to spend a night in my own bed.

My car and I have traveled thousands of miles together. Over 130,000. We've shared meals together. We've worked together. Napped together. She's seen me on my worst days and on my best. She's knows what music I like. What books I've listened to. She embraces my dog. She's the most trustworthy travel companion I've had yet. I would feel lost without her.

Getting stranded in Houston allowed me to sleep in my bed sure, but as a result, my head would not hit the same pillow for six consecutive nights. As a nomadic businesswoman, I crave the feeling of home. To be in my home but without my car was a cruel teaser. I felt homeless in my hometown. A feeling I'm still recovering from as I sit in a lonely Alexandria hotel room. Oh, to live a stationary life...

*Hearings in remote locations are often done “VTC” (video conference). The client and attorney are at the hearing location while the judge is on video from a larger hearing office like Houston or San Antonio.

Changing of the Guards

 

With my job there is very little routine. Sure, there are routine tasks, such as prepping cases, calling clients, writing hearing briefs, etc., but there is no routine schedule. No two weeks look the same. Some mornings it takes me a few minutes to even remember what city I am in, let alone when my hearing starts. Those things always change.

So when there are constants in my ever-changing week, I appreciate them. For example, this morning I was in Corpus Christi. I knew that I would park at the 10 hour meter parking that costs only 50 cents an hour. I knew that the front desk lady would wave Good Morning and smile at me like we knew each other better than we did. I knew I would take the elevator to the 16th floor with the great ocean view. I knew the assigned Judge would ask me to pass along well wishes to a fellow attorney,  even though he and I both know he doesn't actually mean it due to their disagreeable past. And I knew that Derek*, my good security guard friend, would be waiting for me, to discuss sports as usual.

Derek loved baseball, especially. In fact, he had played at the University of Houston and for the Corpus Christi Hooks. He stopped when his son was born so he could be close to home. He recently started playing on weekends for a league in Mexico. Or so he told me.

A few months ago the topic of conversation was college football. We talked about Texas, Kevin Sumlin, Case Keenum, etc. I don't know everything about college football, but I know enough. He had remarked,

"You mean to tell me - you're not married, and you don't have a boyfriend, and you know this much about football? Some guy is going to be really lucky."

"Well, if I ever find one, I'll send him your way so you can tell him that."

"Send him. I'll tell him."

So I liked Derek and was looking forward to seeing him. I had failed to follow the college bowls as closely as I usually do though and was a little worried I wouldn't be able to keep up my image as a girl-who-knows-enough-about-football.

I was surprised when I exited the elevator to see someone, other than Derek, sitting in his seat by the window.

"I'm used to seeing Derek here, is he taking the day off or something?" I ask the new guard.

"No, he got arrested."

"He got arrested?!"

"Yeah, he won't be coming back."

"What did he get arrested for?"

"Impersonating a U.S. Marshal. It was all over the news. You can check it out online."

"What?!"

I hadn't known it before, but apparently Derek was known around the department for telling tall-tales.  (So about playing baseball for UH, the Hooks, and Mexico...)

The judge was running late and I immediately search for the news story on my phone. Sure enough, there it was: "Tow Truck Driver Claims he was Ordered at Gunpoint to Tow a Car." Holy cow. He was arrested along with his passenger who was charged with drug possession.

I'm used to hearing stories like this, but from my clients, not my security guard friends who at times have to protect me from my clients (this happened once). I guess people are more than meets the eye, but dang it, sometimes I wish they weren't. I'm certainly hoping this was an aberration, an error in judgment, and even though he'll spend time behind bars, he'll get out and not be such an idiot. He was doing something right in his life at least at one point to have passed a background check and drug test and get issued a gun. But man, shape up people. Say no to drugs. Think before you act. And leave the tall-tales, half-truths, and flat-out lies at home. Better yet, leave them all together.

For now, I'll have to get used to New Guard and wait for time to turn him into a Corpus Christi constant. I hope it doesn't take long and I certainly hope our relationship doesn't end quite so dramatically. Until then, I'll try to enjoy the ocean view. It's a much better view than the one behind bars.

*No, I did not use his real name or link to the article. If you want to find it, you can. Even though I'm sharing his story here, I though I'd spare him at least that.

Cowgirl Fail

I spent close to 12 hours alone in the car the past two days listening to a novel about a girl falling in love with a cowboy as I drove along what used to be the El Camino Real and passed hundreds of farms and ranches. Needless to say, I've spent the past 48 hours dreaming of cowboys (the non-texting kind), ranches, and horses, wondering if I'll ever get my chance to become a real cowgirl.

This summer, while visiting the mountain west, I had the chance to up my non-existent cowgirl game and failed miserably. But I did learn a key lesson about horses and the patience of a mountain man.

I was going to spend the last afternoon of my trip with Mountain Man. I was looking forward to it because A. I wanted to get to know him better and B. we were going horseback riding! And not the horseback riding where you have a guide and you have to stay along a designated path and obey all the rules. We were going horseback riding on our own, choosing our own path on our own horses. I couldn't wait!

But that afternoon I was feeling a little dopey... (this will be my excuse to explain my carelessness later on). The week had been so jam-packed with fun and festivity that I hadn't had much sleep. So the night before our ride I had taken 2 Tylenol PM. Bad move on my part as I literally felt stoned the next morning. (Of course, I don't know how it really feels to be stoned, but I'm guessing it's somewhat similar). I, therefore, didn't have much of an appetite. When Mountain Man picked me up around 2:00 p.m. all I had eaten so far was a piece of chocolate wedding cake.

Mountain Man showed up in boots and a Texas Longhorn baseball cap and was driving his beat-up pick-up truck. He looked more Texan than I did.

We drove an hour up the mountains before we got to our destination. Because this wasn't an organized ride, we were borrowing friends' horses, it was up to us to ready the horses before riding. Mountain Man taught me how to brush the horses and put on the saddle. Best day ever already.

As we saddled up and I got accustomed to the bouncing (how did the movies make horseback riding look so smooth - this was anything but!), Mountain Man began identifying the surrounding rocks and naming the nearby trees. We even grabbed some wild berries off a bush to eat on the way. I was in heaven!

Aside from my horse being overly hungry and wanting to eat anything he could get his teeth on, the ride went smoothly and I learned all about Mountain Man's life growing up in rural America.

As our ride was nearing the end, one of the reins slipped out of my hand. I yell for Mountain Man's help because I can't quite reach it. He turns around to help when I realize I'm being silly and can probably get it myself. I lean forward, just a little more now, almost got it, and wham! The horse, not liking where I was going, jerked his head up slamming his head right into my sunglasses with more force than I would have expected. Ow that hurt! Mountain Man grabs the fallen rein and looks at me worried. I'm okay, I smile. He accepts this and turns his horse around as I silently scream and make a face - man that hurt. (Cowgirl Fail #1?)

We bring the horses near the barn, remove their saddles, brush out their hair, and give them water to drink. We drink water from the hose as well. I feel hot and dusty and am loving the rustic experience and smell of livestock in the air.

We then lead our horses into the corral where the other horses are held. Mountain Man brings his in and then tells me to bring in mine. Ok...I'm a little timid passing the other horses because they are clamoring by the gate and they are big! (People get paralyzed by horses!) I'm more concerned about my own physical welfare than anything else at that point. I safely reach Mountain Man's side and he removes the bridle. What a fun day.

I head to the corral gate. "Uh, is that supposed to happen?" I ask Mountain Man, pointing to the 4 horses outside the corral gate. "Shut the gate!" he yells. I'll take that as a no. I had been so worried about not being trampled by the other horses it never crossed my mind I should probably shut the gate behind me. Duh!!

As we close in on the horses to lead them back into the corral, they take off running into the alfalfa fields. Uh. Oh. For what seemed like an hour (but was probably only 20 minutes or so) Mountain Man and I run around the alfalfa fields trying unsuccessfully to round them up. They could care less and are determined to stay out of reach and enjoy the new leafy green feed they've stumbled upon. This is when I realize how handy actually being ON a horse must be when trying to wrangle animals. But we were on foot.

Mountain Man says he's going to herd them in my direction and I'm supposed to stand still and direct them towards the corral or something. Don't worry, he tells me, they're more scared of you than you are of them. Yeah right! As they run toward me I yelp and step out of the way - I still don't want to get trampled! So I'm no help whatsoever running around in my Sperry top-siders in an alfalfa field worried about being trampled to death by four horses. Not to mention I'm dehydrated and about to faint any second because by now its 6:00 p.m. and all I've had to eat all day is a piece of chocolate cake!

Bless Mountain Man's heart (as we say in Texas). He was nothing but patient.

Luckily, the neighbor girl across the street comes over and is able to take control and lead in the horses one by one. (Thank goodness or we would have been out there all night!) At one point, she asks me to run to the barn and get some horse rope or some such thing. I go to the barn, stare at all the ropes and bridles and saddles and tools and think, she wants me to get what? I had no clue, so I grab a selection of random items hoping one of them was what she wanted. Never has it been more apparent that I am a city girl!

I guess it was naïve for me to assume that I could come anywhere close to being a cowgirl just by going on a horseback ride with a mountain man. But I did learn an important cowgirl lesson - always shut the corral gate!