home again, via Houston

Okay, we’ve been home for a few days. Sleeping has been had, laundry has been done [but let’s not kid ourselves, people, it’s not yet folded] and there have been cat cuddles galore as we are apparently forgiven for a week-long cat abandonment at a lovely kitty hotel.

The trip to Orlando was great – busy, but great and, yes there will be photos and recap…later – but it is good to be home. It it good to have gotten through the trip home.

Someone [um…me] booked a flight that included a mere 40 minute layover in Houston, Texas.

Now, we left Orlando a wee bit late. I seriously loved the pricing we got for our flights, but have come to realise that this particular airline has two consistent themes: over-booking and consistent delays. Nothing horrific, but definitely always a little late. With 40 minutes to switch planes, any delay was a bit extra stressful.

But, worse? The descent into Houston. A dip below the cloud line and the sight of the first house lights on the outskirts of town meant we were close! Didnt’ it?

No. It did not. Because, Houston, you are the freaking biggest, most spread-out city in the history of cities. Miles and miles of lights carried on, a series of half-assed grids with sprinkles of lights between them. It started to look like a family Christmas tree – the outlines set up by parent, the random bits strewn on by the kids and the occasional blob of industry lights added by the two-year old or the drunk uncle. There were even the black holes – the spaces at the back of the tree that everyone forgets about or doesn’t want to bother to reach.

Yes, by this point of the flight, it had been a very long day.

And on and on it went. It occurred to me, somewhere between the farms and the third set of stadium lights, that this is likely the closest I will ever be to the Bloggess. And then I realised it was awfully hard to tell. This damn city could have carried over three states by then.

We eventually landed. And taxied across an overpass. And grabbed our carry-on bags to barge off the plane and run 10 gates down the hall and stand in line at the connecting flight.

It was also delayed.

Our Wednesday night arrival turned into Thursday morning and the many, many, many lights of Houston gave way to sea-salt air and “regular” Vancouver lights. You know, ones you can fly over in less than an hour.

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