I was glad I had spent the additional night in Houston, as I awoke the next day feeling much more awake and ready for longest driving leg of my trip. Texas is enormous and it takes the greater part of any given day to get out of it, no matter where you are in the state and I was going essentially the width of the state; Houston to El Paso.
As I drove away from Houston, I thought I would feel something about leaving. In my mind I had pictured some sort of moment to happen as I watched the 4th largest metropolis fade from view in my rearview mirror. There is however, no distinct ‘you are now officially out of Houston’ location. The vast sprawl of the city goes on and on and the outer suburbs are no longer separate entities, but simply a continuation of the city’s giant amoeba footprint.
That and my stomach was hungry and wanted something quick but not fast food. I found the perfect Panera Bread solution. They make these great ham and swiss puff-pastry-soufflés that are really delicious and pretty inexpensive (it’s a long 18 days, budgetary concerns) and my first Chai Tea Latte (one of many for the day).
By 9am I was back on the road and listening to the last broadcast of the Rod Ryan show on 94.5 the Buzz, my usual drive to work radio show and the last good music I would hear for a while.
Earlier in Dec, I had gotten a feeling that Murphy would show up on my trip and that I was going to get a speeding ticket (because, that would be just like Texas, to give me one more going away gift), so I got a radar detector to help prevent this. I had always joked that in Texas there were only two seasons, Hell and Canadian summer, and that clearly it was the devil himself who was in charge of keeping me in Houston for so long, (which is why I needed to get out of the state as fast as possible; before he realized I was gone). The self fulfilling prophecy occurred before I had even reached San Antonio (laser, nothing the radar detector could have done). The officer ironically looked exactly like he was from the movie, ‘Oh Brother Where Art Thou’ the head officer that had been after the main characters and was the devil symbolism in the movie. Clearly, I had not driven fast or quite enough for him to not realize I was leaving. The devil had gotten me one last time.
The bad weather and the poor time I was making on the road did nothing to dampen my spirits as I became completely engrossed in the story. If you have not heard of or read this book, I highly suggest you do. It is hands down the best personal narrative I had read since, ‘Three Cups of Tea’ by Greg Mortenson.After that point the driving became slower as the overcast clouds let out the rain they had been storing and my radio station faded. I had replaced the stereo because I knew there was no good music on the road. I even set aside a specific collection of CDs purposefully for the roadtrip, which of course the movers packed while I had been busy making sure they didn’t pack my roommates belongings in the other room. So I had nothing but a single CD. I stopped in San Antonio for lunch, books on CD, and another Chai Tea Latte.
A few months back, I had seen on the Daily Show, Condoleezza Rice promoting her book, “Extraordinary, Ordinary People”, the memoir of her life growing up with her parents. I am Not a republican, but I do like to hear stories of successful women and how they got to where they were. Whether you support her politics or not, she has had an amazing career. I made a mental note to keep her book in mind. At Borders, when I saw her audio book, I knew it was the one. 9 hours and 7 CDs. Perfect for a roadtrip.
West Texas passed by me as Condoleezza read to me about her experience in growing up in Birmingham, Alabama during the 60s. She talks of her middle class black community and her educator parents who were also involved in the church (her dad was a Presbyterian preacher). She talks of what it was like to have the Civil Rights movement in your backyard and how scary that time was. You also learn about her education, her extended family, her love of ice skating, and how she became a concert pianist. Ms Rice’s story is exactly as the title says, extraordinary.
I was almost sad when it was finally 8pm and I had to find a hotel in Van Horn, 100+ miles shy from my original end point of Las Cruces, NM. The weather had simply put me too far behind to make it out of Texas, but at least I had had good company with Condie.
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