Hello, party people. Sorry for the delay. I’ve had an insane week, but you don’t care about that. You only care about Jim Williamson. So I will let him take it away. The week started out okay. It was much like any other except that I had to go to Houston via a one-way ticket. My return trip was via U-Haul. But more on that later.
We arrived at the airport at 12:15 p.m., ready to board our flight. But our flight wasn’t ready for us. It had been cancelled and rescheduled for 5:30 p.m. I had no intention of waiting for five hours in an airport just to get to Houston, so we tried for standby on the next available flight. The attendant said, “It doesn’t look promising, but hang loose.” We did, and we got on the next flight.
I was the very last person to board. And guess where I got to sit? That seat that not even a first-time flyer would want—the middle seat in the very last row, right next to the bathroom. I stuffed my baggage in the only available overheard space, which was rows and rows away. Then I began the long walk down the aisle toward the seat of no return.
I surveyed the situation, and then twisted, turned, and contorted myself to climb over the 268-pound man in the aisle seat while trying not to hit the girl next to the window in the face with my computer bag. I did all this while trying to be mindful of the knee injury I sustained while jogging earlier in the week. I was also attempting to keep my backside out of everyone’s face. I could feel the lingering presence of a conversation that had been abruptly interrupted as I tried to position my frame in my cramped quarters. I felt bad for about a second. But then I realized that if they had really wanted to continue their conversation, the lady could have offered up that window seat. She didn’t.
Then it came time for the all-important battle for the armrest. Should I take both and anger the large man who looked to be all muscle and ex-military? Should I be nice and take just one? Should I sit all hunched up like I’ve been raised in a room from Hoarders Buried Alive and take neither? The latter was definitely not an option, so I took both and waited to see what would happen next.
Turns out, Mr. Muscle was a really nice guy. His day had started way worse than mine as he had been at the airport since 6 a.m. His flight was also cancelled, and his girlfriend was already in New Orleans waiting for their romantic weekend to start. “Why does the flight attendant have to do a stand-up routine instead of just giving us the cabin instructions?” he asked me.
“That’s what happens when that acting career never quite pans out. I mean that in the nicest way,” I replied. After he laughed at my joke, I gave him an armrest. It may not have been this best move since his arm was bigger than my thigh, but hey, if for some reason there was trouble on the flight, I definitely wanted him as a friend because he could peel the metal from the plane so we could escape.
Once we finally arrived in Houston, we got to eat at several new places such as Liberty Kitchen’s new location and Brick and Spoon. Just a side note, every hot place in that town has at least an hour wait. Max finally got to see the Menil Collection (he kept calling it the “de Menil” ), the Rothko Chapel, and the Cy Twombly Gallery, which, with the addition of a small kitchen and bedroom, would make the perfect home for Jimbo. The light in that place is amazing. We also looked at lots of houses, as my friend is moving and looking for a new home. But here is the thing about Houston: practically every home in a decent location gets multiple offers the minute it hits the market, so you better have cash (and plenty of it).
Once we completed our business, we headed home in the U-Haul. Yes, a U-Haul that was too large to park at the hotel. It would have been great to see the valet’s face had we pulled up to the hotel in that thing and asked him to park it. Thankfully, my friend lives nearby, so we were able to leave it there.
People forget that my life revolves around furniture. I am selling, ordering, tracking, reconfiguring, customizing, designing, recovering, or moving it. And yes, at this point in my career you would think I would just pay someone to haul that furniture that I forgot I had in storage all those years ago. But Max thought transporting it ourselves would be a fun adventure. Fun to me does not involve moving furniture. And as far as adventures, I would much rather go snorkeling in Belize than ride in the U-Haul. But it wasn’t so bad. U-Haul made it pretty easy, and the trip home took less time than waiting at the airport. It’s all about timing traffic out of and into Houston. Leaving Houston earlier is best. Leave after lunch, and you just tack on a few more hours to your drive.
So that was my fun adventure. And now I have even more furniture to deal with. Oh the joys. Happy Friday!
