Sitting in the hotel lobby, I took a matchbook, courtesy of the Hotel, from my inside jacket pocket. I lit up a cigarette and put on a pair of black plastic sunglasses I bought in India, during my last excursion. Cheap knock-offs of a major brand, no doubt.
I turned and looked around to see if anyone noticed how ridiculous I appeared. Knowing full well smoking didn’t suit me, I tutted at myself and promptly stubbed it out. I always thought smoking was a mug’s game. The weather was typical. The sun was relaxing, the air was warm and balmy. It was nearing six and it felt like midday, but I loved this part of the world. Those who slate the States and its ‘lack of culture’ have generally never visited.
The Texan fey of rocky landscapes, retired, conservative cowboys and incredibly generous portions encroached on my preconceptions. This wasn’t the first time I had been here, but it was only the second.
I waited at a Doubletree for the night. My flight from the George Bush Intercontinental Airport to San Antonio was rescheduled for the next day. After admiring the vivid sky, American sunsets are so much more impressive, I went to my room for a quick rest. The rooms were good, high quality but nothing elite, I’m only here for one night.
The day passed and I got a taxi to the airport. Terminal D, gate 9, my passage to a new experience. After spending an hour or two reading last month’s copy of The Economist (slightly tatty and of course out of date, but interesting all the same), I was called up, my seating group was next.
The aircraft was modest compared to the one I took over the Atlantic, naturally. I ordered just a coke. This small craft would feel the turbulence and I wasn’t up to motion sickness combined with alcohol, certainly not at ten in the morning. The flight was over in an hour and a half, and when I got out of the departure lounge, that repulsive woman was there waiting for me. The look on her face was one I could always rely on to be forlorn. She was sick with it.
I wouldn’t expect her any other way.
“Is that all you packed?” she was always fairly cynical. And monotonous.
“I prefer to travel light” I replied. It was the best excuse I could give. The fact is my suitcase had little in it and I didn’t have a reason. Maybe I was just poor at packing.
I got in her monstrosity of a vehicle and she drove me to another hotel. It had nothing on the Doubletree. This is where I’d be staying at for the night.
“Don’t you dare do anything unplanned. Your father has been waiting for this and only recovered in time to get the flight here. I will not let this wedding slip at all. It will happen and it will go on without a hitch.”
“What do you take me for?” I smiled. My use of rhetoric saved her asking further. This saved me having to tell her anything.
I didn’t like the woman. At all. We got to the hotel and she said she was getting someone to pick me up at nine the next morning.
Just as well my flight to Austin was at seven. I was meeting someone there and I sure as hell wasn’t going to watch my dad marry that beast who drives a four by four like her kids went to school in The Outback.
