Mr. Hotel Clerk

 

A few weeks ago I was checking out of my hotel in Nacogdoches. The man behind the counter was cute. He had a great smile and a Texas accent. He even spoke Spanish. We had a good, albeit quick, conversation and I did my best to bat my eyes and show my dimples.

I didn't think much of this encounter as I walked out the hotel door except for the fact that he was really cute. As I backed out of my parking space on the side parking lot and before I drove away, instincts told me to look left. I did. There was Mr. Hotel Clerk staring out the window at me. This was the nudge I needed to start my mind spinning.

Why had I been in such a hurry? Why did I not talk to him longer? How could I make this work? What excuse could I find to get me back in the hotel after my hearing? After consulting my schedule and realizing I was being ridiculous, I decided to hold off a few weeks until I would be back in town at the same hotel.

I returned to Nac last week and arrived at the hotel mid-afternoon. As I parked, I reviewed my game plan. (This story helps to illustrate just how infrequent I run into cute, single men - key word single.) As I walk into the hotel I see three people at the counter including him. He looks up and flashes his big, endearing smile. Yep, he's cute. I was still a little unsure as to how this would work with two other people involved and I resigned myself to the idea that it probably wouldn't.

Another male hotel clerk began checking me in. Darn. Despite this I try to make conversation with Mr. HC. The maid stops in to say something to him in Spanish and he responds. I try to make some lame comment about this. Last visit he said he had graduated with a Spanish major and I had remarked that at one point I had known Spanish as well.

I'm all checked in and I ask the clerk helping me if there are any local restaurants he recommends. A fair and sincere question - I really did not want to eat fast food yet again. He tells me I look like an Auntie Pastas kind of girl and begins giving me directions. This is when Mr. HC chimes in.

HC: Oh I'm going there tonight!

Other clerk: Ok, so did you follow those directions?

Me: I think so. If I forget, I'll just come down and ask again. Thanks.

I start walking away not really sure what to do at this point. HC helps me out.

HC: Hey, if you really decide to go...let me know...

Me: Well, I'm going...

HC: [jokingly] Ha, okay, how 'bout I'll drive and you pay?

Me: Okay.

He looks at me like, are you serious?

Me: [shrugging my shoulders] I need the company.

HC: [looking a little flabbergasted] Uh, ok what time?  Do you want to meet me here at 7:30?

Me: Sounds good.

I walk away. Up the elevator and down the hall I think, did that really just happen?  I giggle to myself and immediately call my sisters. They seem a little worried that I will be getting in a car with a  complete stranger. Understandably good cause for concern, but for some reason I'm not. What I am concerned about is my pounding head. I figure my sniffles will ward off any unwanted advances.

Because I can no longer ignore the fact that my cold has taken a turn for the worse, I find a local doctor and get a prescription for antibiotics for what has now become a sinus infection. As I wait for my prescription to be filled at the Walmart pharmacy, I peruse the toy aisle. I come across the Magic 8 Ball and ask it if the night will turn out well - Outlook Good. I send the good news to my sisters.

When I return to the hotel, Mr. HC is no longer there so I ask the other clerk what my soon-to-be date's name is and if he's a good guy. He tells me his name, assures me that he is and that he'll have me laughing in no time. He also informs me that HC said he would be there at 7:00. This reassures me that 1. our conversation actually did take place and 2. that HC was not only going to be punctual, he was going to be early. Impressive.

At 7:30 I head down to the lobby. I'm on the second floor and there is a second floor balcony overlooking the lobby. Anyone sitting at the front desk could easily hear the elevator open. As I exit, I hear guitar music. Sure enough, Mr. HC is sitting behind the front desk strumming on his guitar. No big deal. This is when I also see he is wearing cowboy boots. Oh no, I think. I have a serious, well-documented weakness for cowboys.

Mr. HC and I finally and officially introduce ourselves and I make sure to get his last name as well in case there's any funny business. Mr. HC is a complete gentleman and opens the car door for me. Later in the night he let's it slip that he got his car cleaned before picking me up. Again, impressive.

Auntie Pastas is an Italian restaurant housed in an old railroad building. I'm told the building rattles when a train goes by. As this was a small town in East Texas, I wasn't expecting much but found myself pleasantly surprised. The food was amazing and not just for Nac standards. HC lets me order first. I get the Mediterranean mahi mahi and HC orders the seafood fettuccine. Both dishes come with a little Texas flare that includes crawfish.

The other hotel clerk was right. Mr. HC knows how to make you laugh. He's quite the talker and has plenty of stories to share. HC was raised Church of Christ and still attends church on Sundays. He cycles and loves to travel. He also just graduated from college in December. (What is it with me and younger men?) He tries to do the math as well by asking about law school and how long I've been practicing. It's clear I'm older than him, but I try to narrow the gap by neglecting to mention the years I spent teaching. Doh. But did I mention he has a great smile?

I somehow make it through dinner without the use of a Kleenex even though my constant smile is not helping my sinus infection. When the waitress asks if we want dessert I decline. HC asks if I'm suuurre? I am, but that doesn't stop us from talking.

Me: So do you do this often?

HC: Take out guests from the hotel?  Nope, this is a first.

Me: Ok, because I never do this.

When the waitress comes with the bill, I reach for my wallet. HC assures me that he had been joking earlier and that he's got it covered. We continue to talk until we notice it's closing time and the restaurant is starting to shut down. Closing time comes early in small towns.

He drives me back to the hotel as we listen to the original song of a cover I like and have never heard. He parks too close to a pole and realizes I'll have difficulty getting out as a result so he repositions the car to avoid it.  The song ends and then...

he wraps his strong arms around me for a romantic embrace and a passionate kiss goodnight....

no

he tells me what a wonderful evening he's had, how he's looking forward to my next visit, and in the meantime can he get my phone number to keep in touch...

no

he says he has the morning shift tomorrow and he'll see me then (along with some flower, treat, or guitar serenade no doubt)

no, instead

I open my car door and he awkwardly opens his.  He decides against whatever he was planning, stays in his seat and says,

HC: I'll see you soon.

Me: What? Like tomorrow?

HC: No, I'm not working tomorrow.

Me: Oh ok. Well, thanks for dinner.

And that was that. Besides the hotel clerk smirking at me as I walk in, that is the end of this little tale. No note left for me at the front desk the next morning. No illegal stalking of hotel guest information to get my number and call me. No words passed on by other hotel clerks.

Sorry to disappoint with such an anti-climatic ending.  But in a few short weeks, I'll be back. In the same town at the same hotel with perhaps the same hotel clerks. Maybe I'll have more to tell then. Maybe not. Either way it was a fun night - sinus infection and all - and sure beat sitting in a hotel room all alone.



So what's your take...how young is too young to date?

So Padre

 

Two weeks ago, after I was stranded in Houston, I made the sudden realization that on the Friday of that week I would be in Harlingen with my car and only 40 minutes from South Padre Island. Why I had not thought of this before driving down to South Texas is beyond me. After my week's travel woes, I decided I earned at least one night on the beach to relax and rejuvenate. With my saved up hotel points I booked a night at no cost.

After my hearing ends Friday afternoon, I am giddy with anticipation. The weather in Harlingen had been sunny and 75 all week and I am excited to soak up some good quality Vitamin D.

My first stop is Target where I purchase a beach chair, umbrella and tanning lotion. I head down State Highway 100 and with each passing palm tree my stress gradually gives way to relaxation.

I pass Port Isabel and reach the Queen Isabella Causeway, the longest causeway in Texas at 2.369 miles. On the bridge, signs tell me to Watch Out for Pelicans. I'm not sure exactly what I'm supposed to do when I see one? But I keep a look out just in case.

I easily find my hotel off South Padre Blvd (the only main thoroughfare on the island). I drop off my stuff and head straight to the beach. As I reach the sand I realize the beach is much cooler than the mainland and opt to keep my sweatshirt on. I guess my umbrella and tanning lotion purchases were a bit ambitious. It is still January. As the sun gets lower and the beach gets colder I head in.

I get in my car and drive down the boulevard headed north. Past the beach houses and condos, the road narrows into two lanes with sand dunes on both sides. As I continue to drive the road gets narrower and narrower as the sand drifts onto the shoulder and then onto the road. Eventually all that is left of the road is half of a marginally passable lane with no signs of clearing in the distance. Visions of being swallowed up in sand and getting my car stuck with no one to save me compel me to stop and turn around. The red mini van that had been following me for the past 3 miles decides to do the same. I turn around and head back to civilization.

After surveying my dinner options, I settle for Big Boys Bar & Grill. It's Friday night in a tourist town and I'm not sure I want to dine in alone, but I don't want to go back to my hotel either. The host doesn't give me a choice, declares it's a table for one, and let's me pick my booth. I shouldn't have been worried. It may be Friday night in a beach town, but it's only 5 o'clock in the off season and the only other people in the restaurant are Winter Texans. I feel very comfortable.

My waiter approaches my table and immediately asks, "Oh, where's your date?" Without waiting for a response he jumps in, "I'll be your date!" If he had been ten years older I may have taken him up on the offer. But seeing as he appeared to be under 21, I declined. Waiter was talkative, and honest, and when I asked how the fish was he replied, "Eh, it's nothing special." With that glowing endorsement I ordered it. 

After dinner I head to the hotel to both work and work-out before making my way to the hot tub.  The hotel is eerily quiet and as I make my way through the maze-like hallways I neither see nor hear any other guests.

The front desk man tells me I'll have the hot tub all to myself as I am only 1 of 6 guests that night, a busy night for the off season. He also warns that it's pretty dark out there. After being assured that he would at least hear me if I scream, I sink into the warm water, gaze at the stars, and chill out to tunes from a playlist designed specifically for a hot tub like environment.* This is what I had been craving all week.

After a glorious night's sleep, quick breakfast, and purchase of postcards, I head back to the beach. This time I leave the sweatshirt behind. I plop my chair down in the sand, angle it towards the sun, and sink in. As I look around, I see no other lounger, not one. Instead, I see walkers. Up and down the coast there are pedestrians, joggers, dogs, lots of people, but everyone is moving. It's high traffic time at the beach. I've never seen anything quite like it. This must be the Winter Texan way. Never mind, I think, I plan on being as sedentary as possible. But well, I admit, sometimes that's hard for me to do. I couldn't stay there forever, it wasn't quite warm enough for that. So after a good long while, I check out.

Before leaving the island I stop at the South Padre sign and meet some more Winter Texans. They're from Michigan and got here December 30. They don't plan on leaving until the end of February. It's their first time in South Texas. They offer to take my picture. I decline until they tell me I can climb above the sign.

It's here I also learn of the Padre of South Padre. His name was Padre Nicolas Balli. He founded the island's first settlement in 1804 after receiving the land from King Charles IV of Spain.

I delay my trip home a bit longer as I stop in Port Isabel on the other side of the bridge. I tour the lighthouse built in 1852.

I walk over to Pelican Pier and get a shot of the bridge.

And last but not least, I grab a Blue Bell Rocky Mountain Road ice-cream cone at Davey Jones Ice-Cream Locker.

Unable to delay it any more, I make my way back to the car and head home. More relaxed, more at peace, and more in love with South Texas.

*The playlist I listened to in the hot tub was sent to me that night by a friend. They were all new songs to me. Check it out and tell me what you think in the comments. If you have music suggestions of your own, please share! I'm in constant need of good road trip music.

Fossil Collective: Let it Go

Fossil Collective: On and On

The Deep Dark Woods: 18th of December   (This recording isn't the best but I like the song.)

Chief: Night & Day

The Vaccines: If You Wanna

The Avett Brothers: Kick Drum Heart

The Avett Brothers: Slight Figure of Speech

Beach House: Other People
 

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.

Remember the Alamo...Bowl

This week I road-tripped it to San Antonio. I know the I-10 route well but this time I was headed to the Alamo City for fun with my family in tow. Or rather, I was in tow. I somehow got out of driving the three hour trip and instead sat in the backseat of a car remarkably similar to mine.

There are definite bonuses to being a backseat passenger and sharing the road with friends.

For example, impromptu dancing and singing often erupts.

And World Geography knowledge can be tested with the Houston Chronicle's 50 Question Geography Quiz. (No, I've never heard of Nollywood and do not know what US city is "too busy to hate." Anyone?)

Stopping at Buc-ee's is also a different experience as the normal quick in-and-out trip turns into a twenty minute shopping tour complete with a plan to divide and conquer Icees and Beaver Nuggets before reuniting at the car.


In truth, no Beaver Nuggets were bought or consumed, but they are quite a hit with the regulars.
See the link above for more details.

Upon arriving in San Antonio, we check into our hotel located within walking distance of the River Walk - one of my favorite places in Texas at Christmas time.

We stop at the first Mexican restaurant we find, The Original Mexican Restaurant. It was a cold night and as this restaurant did not provide ponchos for the patio (like another restaurant further down), we opted to eat inside.

More bonuses for traveling with family: live Mariachi serenades.

(The song was called Mariscos, which means seafood in Spanish...can't imagine singing such a pretty song about fish. Maybe someone can enlighten me?)

And someone with whom to try on the traditional Mexican garb.

Sharing a hotel room with new family members provided a special treat as I was awoke in the middle of the night to the shouts of a sleep-talking male.

In the morning, we headed straight to the Alamo. As a former Texas history teacher, I was excited to impart my knowledge to my newly transplanted brother-in-law. Like how Bonham Street (a street we had to cross as we walked from our hotel) was named after James Butler Bonham one of the couriers during the 13 day siege at the Alamo. And how the numbers next to the state flags displayed in the Alamo represented the number of men who died from that state in the battle. (The most famous death being that of Davy Crockett from Tennessee who was quoted as saying, "You may all go to hell and I will go to Texas.") I'm not sure my brother-in-law appreciated all the wealth of information I was dumping on him (as you might not),

but as a born and bred Texan - I just couldn't help myself. I was even more excited when I found the DVD version of the movie Gone to Texas in the Alamo gift shop. This is a highly factual depiction of the life of Sam Houston and other crucial events of the Texas Revolution. As a teacher, I had shown my students many clips from this movie. It also helps to explain why Sam Houston did not come to the aid of the Alamo. (He was busy forming a government and training an army that would later defeat the Mexican troops at the Battle of San Jacinto.)

After our Alamo tour and informational video, we headed to the River Walk for our boat cruise. On our ride we were reminded that San Antonio is named after St. Anthony - patron saint of lost things. Perhaps, if my brother had been Catholic, he would have been able to recover the cell phone that slipped out of his pocket and landed in the river four years earlier when he sat down to lunch. As of yet, no such luck.

From the river, you can also spot a glimpse of the San Fernando Cathedral from which the Mexican dictator Santa Anna had flown the red flag of no quarter (no surrender) during the Alamo siege.

As a side note, Santa Anna is often credited for introducing chicle, the base of chewing gum, to America.

Eventually, we made it to the event for which we had come to town - the Alamo Bowl. My parents started the tradition three years earlier when they had hoped their alma mater would be playing - they didn't, but that didn't stop my parents from buying tickets. They had so much fun they decided to keep coming back. This was my second year to join them.

Seeing as I had no ties to either school, I was a little unsure of who to cheer for. Texas or Oregon?

While I was pretty sure Oregon would win (and they did), I was happy to see Mack Brown's last stand...at the Alamo. The Longhorn band even spelled out his name at halftime.

As we journeyed home the next day, I was aware that while traveling with family has its rewards, there's still some give and take. Like how many pitstops are allowed on the drive home. As the oldest and most experienced traveler in my car, you'd think I'd know better. Fortunately for me, I'm a member of a compassionate family who in the end finally showed mercy and let me make an extra stop. All in all, I'll take the give and take any day.

Waco Weekend

Before my sister and her husband made the decision to move to Waco this fall, most of my interactions with the town had been driving around Baylor campus and down Valley Mills Rd. While Baylor has a nice campus right next to the Brazos River, the city that I saw left something to be desired. When my sister announced this would be her new home, I was determined to venture off my well-beaten but ugly paths and find some of the more beautiful attractions Waco has to offer.  This weekend I got to revisit some of those places.

One place I did not revisit was Health Camp. This is a local burger and shake restaurant that began in 1948 to serve military personnel at the local air force base.

It's located in Waco's traffic roundabout. (Why they build roundabouts in America, I have no idea. I do not like them.) Employee's even wear shirts that say, "I survived the circle." You can order inside or at the little walk-up window outside. I had recommended the local joint to my sister and she tried it when she moved into town. She wasn't so impressed and prefers the burgers at George's. I, on the other hand, had thoroughly enjoyed my chocolate, peanut butter, banana shake.

I was scheduled for a hearing in Waco on Monday and decided to drive up Saturday afternoon to spend a little more time with my sister. We had discussed renting a canoe at Outdoor Waco located downtown and just across the road from the Brazos, but with the threat of rain and waning sunlight we opted for a quick trip to Lake Waco instead.

Lake Waco is man-made lake created by a dam on the Bosque River. Bosque means "forest" in Spanish. (FYI: There's only one natural lake in Texas - Caddo Lake near the Texas/Louisiana border.) When we pulled up to the lake we saw a fisherman with his catch of the day displayed proudly on the bed of his 1980s Chevy truck. The fish were lined up in order of size from smallest to biggest . He caught 1 catfish and about 7 buffalo fish. The biggest weighing 30-35 lbs.

We didn't bring a fishing pole, but with two geologists in tow we soon began looking for brachiopods and gastropods. I just thought they were called shells and bivalves.

When all the specimens were identified, we skipped rocks. Chloe was a natural, but I required a few lessons from Tanner. Apparently, skipping rocks has more to do with rotation and form then pure arm strength. Not that our form looks all that graceful.

After dinner, we got in the Halloween spirit by carving pumpkins. Chloe and Tanner had picked out three the night before at an over-priced, charity pumpkin patch. Supposedly, there was one large pumpkin selling for $100.

Photo taken by Tanner

While I stuck to the traditional form, Chloe decided to get a little creative. Instead of the intended mustache she got something more akin to a cleft palate. Tanner went an alien route.

On Sunday afternoon we headed to Cameron Park. This is by far my favorite part of the town as it has several hiking and biking trails, look-outs, and even a zoo. Our first stop was Proctor Springs.

At the springs, a geology lesson was given as to how and why the water trickles down through the rocks. Regrettably, my non-geologist mind has since forgotten the lesson. All of my Texas geology knowledge comes from four years of teaching Texas History. This spring, and others like it in central Texas, were created by the Balonces Fault which serves as a border between the hill country and coastal plains.

The fault can more easily be seen at Lover's Leap. The banks of the Bosque River differ in elevation before joining the Brazos River just a few hundred feet downstream. (See also photo above.)

In addition to geological sites, I saw a lot of this throughout the weekend...

...newlyweds.

Monday, before I had to take off for my hearing, we went to see the Baylor bears. No, they are not stuffed like I had originally thought. They are actually living black bears housed on campus at the Bill and Eva Williams Bear Habitat just down the street from the Baylor bookstore. Bears became the official Baylor mascot in 1914 after competitive alternatives like bookworm were voted down. The first live mascot came to campus in 1917. In 1974, it was decided that all bears would be given the name "Judge" followed by a surname.

Meet today's live mascots, sisters named Judge Joy Reynolds ("Joy") and Judge Sue Sloan ("Lady").


I'm not sure which is which.

This one was pacing in circles the whole time we were there which made me sad.

The bears are one year apart. The oldest will be thirteen in January. They will live the rest of their lives at Baylor, which will be a longer life than a wild bear ranging between 22 and 25 years as opposed to 18 to 20. Fortunately, the practice of feeding Dr. Pepper (a Wacoan creation) to the bears ceased in the 1990s.

One place we didn't make it to this weekend was the Ansel Adams exhibit at the Baylor Museum of Art. The museum is closed on Mondays. But that's no problem, because I'll be back in Waco next Tuesday for more wac-o fun with my sis. And oh, maybe a little work as well.

George's

What's the best thing about being assigned hearings in Shreveport, LA one day and Austin, TX the next? Driving through Waco! That's right, I get excited to go to Waco.

My sister, Chloe, and her newly-wedded husband, Tanner, moved to Waco this fall so my brother-in-law could attend grad school at Baylor University. (My sister graduated with her master's last spring.) This trip would be the first time seeing them in their new home.

I rolled into Waco on Monday around 5:00 p.m. and chilled in their complex parking lot until my brother-in-law came home with the key. (I had traveled to Waco earlier in the year for work and had used my free time to check-out certain rental properties for my sister. This complex had not been on their list and I suggested they look into it as a potential future home.)

My sister was working until about 7:30 p.m., so, after a quick apartment tour, my brother-in-law and I chilled in front of the TV as I caught up on work and he caught up on ESPN news.

Around 7:30, we drive around the corner and meet up with my sis at George's on Hewitt Drive. I had been wanting to try this restaurant for a year. A hotel clerk once recommended it to me and raved about their Crazy Wings. George's has only two locations in Waco and began serving food back in 1930. They are known for their famous drink "Big O," which was given that name in 1967. George's has catered all over the state and even catered for President George W. Bush while he was at his Crawford ranch.

We decided to sit on the patio because it's Texas in October and only 70 degrees. Our server recommended the Chicken Fried Steak or the Crazy Wings but assured us that everything on the menu was great. And it was. Chloe ordered The Classic hamburger, Tanner ordered the BBQ Sliced Brisket Sandwich, and, breaking from my normal dietary regimen, I ordered Crazy Wings and Big "O" Rings - very much a man's meal I think.

Chloe said it was the best hamburger she's had in Waco. Tanner had no problem finishing his sandwich. And although I couldn't finish my meal, it was pretty amazing.

Crazy Wings consist of "chicken, jack cheese & jalapeño wrapped in bacon and fried." I ordered ranch for the dipping sauce but ended up using the house sauce that came with my onion rings.

Crazy Wings

This would commence my week of eating - see Austin Eats & Treats

More important than the food was the conversation and hearty laughs I shared with my sister. It was hard to say goodbye at the end of our meal and head off to Austin alone, but seeing her broke up the lonely monotony of my trip and reminded me that sisters are the best friends a girl can have.

Tanner & Chloe

Austin Eats & Treats

Normally when I travel, I'm in and out of a city with little time to spare. I drive in the night before, crash at a hotel, do my hearings, and race back home. Or if the hearings are in the afternoon, I'll do all my traveling in one day. It is not uncommon for me to drive eight hours round trip in one day for one hearing. This often occurs on more than one day of the week. So when I get to spend two days in a row in the same city, it's a rare treat.

This week I got to spend an extra day in Austin and I was determined to find unique places to eat. With the help of some friends (thanks Mark, Macie, and Chloe), I found the following three.

1. Torchy's Tacos

For lunch in between hearings, I headed over to the South Austin Trailer Park & Eatery located on South 1st Street.

Inside this trailer park of food trucks, I easily spotted Torchy's Tacos as it was the only truck with a line at 11:00 a.m.

There was a cupcake trailer next-door but it wasn't open for the day yet. There was another non-descript lunch trailer, but it received no attention for the 45 minutes I was at the park.

The trailer park is located right next-door to the Texas School for the Deaf. The man ordering in front of me was deaf and I thought about striking up a conversation in my limited sign language, but decided against it.

I ordered the taco of the month, Scarecrow. Torchy's Tacos describes this taco as "pumpkin-seed breaded chicken tenders and roasted poblano peppers, escabeche carrots, queso fresco, cilantro, and creamy Chiptole Ranch." It. Was. Delicious.

 

For all my Houston friends, there's good news. Torchy's Tacos has a trailer in Rice Village and last month, one opened up in the Heights. Check it out.

2. Hopdoddy Burger Bar

For an early dinner, I headed over to South Congress, which was pretty happenin' at 3:00 p.m. on a Tuesday. Parking is limited on the street and I ended up parking in the garage behind the restaurant. (Parking is free for the first two hours so long as it is validated.)

Hopdoddy is named is named after a hand-crafted beer (hop) and a nickname given to the native cow of Aberdeen, Scotland (doddy). Burger choices include: angus beef, bison, lamb, turkey, tuna, and black bean-corn. I opted for the classic and a chocolate shake.

The shake I ordered was called Chocolate Stout. I thought nothing of this. Stout is after all an adjective. I though it must be a funky Austin way of describing a chocolate shake that is thick and full and decidedly delicious. I found out the hard way that the word stout is not only an adjective, but is also a noun. A noun referring to a type of beer.

Despite my degrees, I have a very limited knowledge of all things alcoholic. I have chosen to live my entire life alcohol free (yes, I graduated from undergrad and law school stone cold sober). I, therefore, find it imperative to impart this valuable lesson to my sober friends who have made similar commitments and may be similarly naïve. Be forewarned. Stout is beer. So stay sober my friends. And if there is a word on the menu you think is merely an adjective, you might want to double check before ordering.

3. Gourdough's

To recover from my previous day's follies, I stuck to something familiar for Wednesday's lunch. Partly for punishment and partly for fear. But I did pick up some treats before heading out of town.





Gourdough's, which sounds like the Spanish word for fat - gordo, is another food truck located on South 1st street, just a block or so from Torchy's Tacos. They specialize in donuts. Big. Fat. Donuts.




That's me in the reflection.

Walking up to the truck, I see three people sharing one donut. Uh-oh. Could I handle one donut all by myself? I was heading back to Houston to share this treat with a good friend (and loyal dog-sitter) and wanted donuts that would make the 3 hour car ride back. I chose Miss Shortcake and ODB (which I think stands for "oh dear, beck!" because that's how good it was). Other random flavors include: maple & bacon, PBJ, fudge & marshmallow, etc. It's pretty much donut heaven.




ODB: Cream-filled donut holes with icing rolled in coconut

Miss Shortcake: Cream cheese icing with fresh cut strawberries

Disclaimer: Lest you think I eat like this on a regular basis, I want to clarify that this was not typical behavior. I am a girl who watches her carbs (even gluten and dairy) and eats meat sparingly. Not because I'm watching my weight (although that is an added benefit), but because I feel better and cleaner when I avoid those things. I do believe in self-indulgence from time to time. This was one of those times. I will now go back to rice and beans for the remainder of the week.