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.