Vacation 2009, Day One: Help Me Liz Lemon, You're My Only Hope

This year's official vacation got off to a rocky, and in the long run expensive, start. Normally I take a cab to the airport so as not to pay two weeks' worth of parking, but the cab company said it would take half an hour to get to my house at the earliest, and I needed to be there in half an hour. Normally, cabs get to my place in five minutes or so. Hell, they ought to deliver pizzas with that kind of response time. But they informed me that this was Texas game day so I'd have to wait, which of course I couldn't. Now, anyone that went to that game is either badly in need of a social life or has a serious gambling addiction. Louisiana-Monroe? Really? What, wasn't Prairie View available? Or the Westlake junior varsity? Funroe High essentially is like the 13th grade. The UT Law School has intramural football teams that could stay on the same field with that bunch of business majors and air conditioner and advanced auto repair apprentices. I picture that scene in Monty Python's Meaning of Life where the teachers play rugby against the young students, smashing and running them over the entire game. To see this game, you have to pay the astronomical ticket charge, sit (or stand) in the sun in a huge crowd, pay $8 or so for watery cokes, sweat for three hours, and miss other good college football games on TV. The fact that 80,000 or so people decided to do this means I'm going to pay more than $100 to park at the airport.

The trip's rocky start continued at the airport, where I managed to spill Salt Lick BBQ sauce on my suit and shirt. I usually wear a suit when I fly, figuring if I class it up a bit I might get the benefit of the doubt at security or with weary airline employees. Nothing like a little BBQ sauce to puncture an ego balloon.

The good news is the flight was only half full (or half empty, depending on your view). The bad news is that the other half was filled with babies and small kids. All of whom surely have been practicing their voices for a long scream during this nearly four hour flight. At least on this flight I can spread out over three seats and not be cooped up like veal while being annoyed. Truthfully, screaming babies don't really bother me too much anymore. Years of exposure to a particular family's screaming ferret-children have somehow dulled that gland most people have midway between their eyes and brain that triggers excruciating pain at the onset of prolonged child screaming. I warn you-developing tolerance to that takes a long time, just like how Westley spent a few years building up a tolerance to Iocane powder in The Princess Bride. Sort of like how listening to heavy metal music makes you less resistant to murder.

Midway through the flight the clouds cleared and I could see the glorious sight of the late summer sun shining on the rugged red earth and cragged, twisting river canyons of western New Mexico and then Arizona. From this height it looks like the Mars landers' photos. But the awesome spectacle reminded me what a diverse and beautiful country God gave us. Its all too easy to forget that God gave us this country and blessed it with a nearly unmatched wealth of resources and beauty. I thought of Lewis and Clark, setting out from St. Louis in 1803 to find the source of the Missouri, and what wonders they encountered. As the first Europeans to see the heart of this country, the Dakotas, Montana, Wyoming, and then onward to the Pacific through Oregon, they must have experienced bewilderment and awe every day. Then I think of my good fortune, as someone who's lived within three hours of the Texas or Louisiana Gulf Coast my entire life, to have the time and wherewithal to explore the American West. Wile E. Coyote country. It reminds me of the staggering blessings in my life. Except for the BBQ sauce. And the taxi. And screaming kids. Other than those things, the staggering blessings.

While flying over the golden hills just east of the Bay Area, I saw rows and rows of wind turbines, spinning in the constant Pacific breeze. This represents actual progress on the energy front for a state still starving for new power sources. As we flew into Oakland, it became apparent why the pioneers called this the Golden State. It took more than a half century of greed, ego, government dependence, waste, and government by proposition to decimate the state's governing systems. Californians, and probably other Americans, will be picking up the pieces and suffering the consequences for the next 50 years. These people had to work really hard to kill the 1950s California Dream, but they sure did it. Every now and then I have a fleeting thought about moving here, such as now when I see the sun shimmering off the city in the distance, while the late afternoon fog covers Oakland and Berkeley . This area has unparalleled natural beauty in every direction, it seldom gets very hot or very cold, and its culture and sports are unsurpassed (except for the Oakland Raiders, see tomorrow's post). But then I think of the choking population density, pollution, traffic, weirdoes, and stratospheric cost of living. A five minute walk across the Texas or LSU campus and remembering that "scenery" always scotches that plan. (That's not creepy, is it?).

At the car rental place, they don't have the convertible I reserved. Which is exactly how I called it a week ago when I posted about this vacation. How did I know? As I passed through the Alamo lot, I saw the adjoining Thrifty lot full of Chrysler Sebring convertibles and thought briefly about canceling with Alamo, but just wanted to get on to Kimberly and Terry's house so I did that instead.

I met her at the Pinole dog park, and was introduced to Taffy, her new, jumpy Belgian Malinoir (see picture above). We then went to her house and got caught up (who's ears were burning?) and talked about our favorite show 30 Rock, while she made a fantastic meal of New York strip steak, fresh organic corn on the cob, and salad with fresh heirloom tomatoes. Mmmmmmmm.... We ate, talked, and watched LSU beat those University of Washington Birkenstockers. Kimberly served dinner on TV trays. Somehow I need to get that kind of setup. Taffy continued her jumpy ways when we returned to the house but eventually settled down. What a great protector!

Tomorrow-Run in the sun, drive to the sky