Angel Agents

Fine. Lesson learned. When forced to make a decision between driving to Monroe, Louisiana or flying with a connection, I will now drive. Always.

My flight from Houston to Monroe had me stopping at DFW for a quick one hour layover. When it was announced our flight out of Houston would be delayed an hour, I thought, well there goes my connection. I spoke with the agent in Houston who didn't seem to think it would be much of a problem as we would probably make up some time in the air. Ok, I thought, I'll pray for a miracle then. Sure enough our plane lingered on the runway and when we landed at DFW my flight to Monroe had already left. Cool. Not really.

I was now forced to make a decision. There were no more flights to small town Monroe that night and there were none early enough in the morning for me to make it to my hearings. Do I now drive the four hours to Monroe? I had a hotel waiting there and my clients had been waiting three months for their hearing date. Or do I forget the whole thing, I tried after all, call my clients, and find a hotel in Dallas for the night? I opted for the path of least resistance and decided to suck it up and drive to Monroe. It was going to be a late night.

This brings me to my first angel agent.

John

I'm not sure if the United agent at DFW that helped me was in fact named John, but, given the other two agents in this story, it had to have been.

I explained to John in a pleasant but fatigued and isn't-tonight-going-to-be-fun sort of way about my predicament.  Because there were no other flights to choose from, he kindly processed a refund for the flight I had missed. In addition, he decided to take pity on a lonely, destitute female who would now have to make her way to a "foreign" land in the dead of night and gave me, wait for it, a $100 voucher to be used on any United flight within the next year! I'll take it!

John was a saint and I'm not sure I adequately thanked him enough for going above and beyond.

Peter

Yes, the rental car agent was in fact named Peter. I'm not sure he was really an angel agent. More like a tempter agent, but we'll call him an angel for getting me a one-way car rental and for keeping me awake my first hour of driving. I'll explain.

Pete was a great listener. He heard my sad little tale along with the over sharings that usually come out of my mouth in times of stress. Something I over shared must have elicited the following comment.

"I don't understand why women think, if they're not all done up, they're ugly." He slowly shook his head. Was this an indirect compliment or just a reflection on my gender as a whole? I couldn't tell.

But then, knowing I was headed through Shreveport, he offered, "If it was the weekend, I'd take you to the casino."

Now we're talking. If this were a movie, we would now cut to visions of me and Petey headed east in a rented convertible, my hair and scarf flapping in the wind, hands high in the air, shades on, red lips smiling, and both of us gleefully anticipating drowning in coins and poker chips with our new found love interest. But it wasn't the weekend, it was a Wednesday. And my health and safety remained in tact.

But it was these visions (and a chocolate shake, phone call, and music) that kept me awake as I started my four hour drive at 10:00 at night.

James

So yes, my angel agents were Peter, James and well, maybe John.

I did safely arrive into Monroe and made it to my hearings the next morning. For some reason I was booked on a late afternoon return flight. When it was announced that the flight out of Monroe was delayed an hour and that once again I would miss my connection in Dallas, I tried my best to hold it together. But after only four hours of sleep, I was deteriorating fast.

This is when the stars aligned and I met James. Sweet, blessed James. James did the impossible. He transferred my American Airlines ticket to a United flight. The United flight boarded in just twenty minutes. It was a direct flight into Houston. I would arrive three hours ahead of schedule. I got a window seat and an aisle seat. I got to land in Terminal B. I, therefore, got to restock on a much needed supply of chocolate covered gummy bears for a friend and I. I got to go to bed early. This was a miracle.

John was generous. Pete was fun. But James, you did the impossible. You have my heart.

Tabasco

Last fall I was scheduled hearings in Houma, LA and I was excited. Most Americans have never heard of Houma, LA, let alone know how to pronounce it. (I still don't.) But I knew that on my long drive to Houma I would be passing right by Avery Island, home of Tabasco sauce.

Located 40 miles south of Lafayette and across the freeway from New Iberia, Avery Island is in fact an island. 6 miles off the freeway and across a creek-sized body of water, stands the entrance booth where visitors must pay a $1 entrance fee. Although the booth is stationed on the passenger side of your vehicle, there is no need get out when traveling alone. The entrance man has a long pole with a clothes pin at the end of it with which he will reach inside your car to collect your dollar.

There is one and only one Tabasco factory and it is located here at Avery Island. Factory tours are free and start every 20 minutes or so. The tour consists of a gallery with historical artifacts, an 8 minute video, and a viewing gallery where you can see Tabasco sauce being bottled and packaged. The tour was not as extensive as the Blue Bell Ice Cream Factory tours in Brenham, TX, but I did get free bottled samples of Tabasco Buffalo Sauce and Tabasco Green Pepper Sauce.

During the tour I learned several things about Avery Island and how Tabasco sauce is made.

• Avery Island is one of five salt dome islands on the Louisiana coast.
• The harvested salt is used to make Tabasco sauce.
• 40 acres of peppers grow on the island
• The same day peppers are picked they are crushed and mixed with salt.
• The pepper and salt mixture is loaded into barrels with extra salt dumped on top. 
• The mashed peppers ferment and age for 3 whole years.
• After 3 years, the mixture is poured into a vat with vinegar.
• The peppers and vinegar mix non-stop for 28 days.
• Tabasco peppers also grow in various places in Central and South America.
• The peppers are also used in other products including cinnamon gum, toothpaste and, not surprising, pepper spray.

After the tour, I walked on over to the Tabasco Country Store. It is here you can sample various Tabasco concoctions including Tabasco soda, ice cream, and jelly belly beans. I avoided the ice-cream but I foolishly tried the soda. I do NOT recommend it. The taste it left in my mouth was horrendous and it took days to recover. It was so bad, I started having vengeful thoughts against the McIlhenny Company. In the interest of pleasurable experiences and happy thoughts, avoid the soda.

In an unsuccessful attempt to get the soda taste out of my mouth, I walked next door to the food truck and ordered crawfish etouffee, my Cajun dish of choice. I commandeered the only table in the shade (it was warm then) and a tour bus driver soon joined me. He was from Mississippi and was driving French tourists on a trip through the South. They started their journey in Atlanta and were slowly making their way to Dallas with various stops along the way. Once in Dallas, Bus Driver would deposit his passengers and make the eight hour drive back to Mississippi alone. He said he was looking forward to that part of his trip and the solitude he'd enjoy. Earlier that day I had bemoaned all the time I wasted in the car. Bus Driver reminded me that road trips by yourself have at least some redeeming qualities. He also reminded me that I should talk to strangers more often - they have stories to tell and lessons to teach.

Yes, I'm wearing flip flops.

After lunch, I grabbed a quick shot of the Country Store. Bus Driver saw me do it and said I needed to be in the photo - to prove to people I was really here. So here's proof - I was here.

 

I have since forgiven McIlhenny for the horrible Tabasco soda incident (although I admit the vengeful feelings did resurface on my second visit) and I continue to use Tabasco in my meatballs and on my red beans and rice.

 

What do you use Tabasco sauce on?



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.