Texas June 2001

Travelogue: Texas
June 2001

By Roger W. Reini

By date:

15th | 16th | 17th | 18th | 19th | 20th | 21st | 22nd | 23rd
24th | 25th | 26th | 27th | 28th | 29th | 30th | 31st | 1st | 2nd | 3rd

By event:

Friday June 15

Today was the day that I would begin my latest vacation, another trip to Texas. My last major vacation was in Texas, back in March. On that trip, I went by train. This time, I would drive. I wanted to travel with more belongings than last time, such as a guitar. Also, I might want to return with some frozen barbecue from Joe’s.

The day started like an ordinary workday, for I went to work for a couple of hours. I had to complete a hot assignment before I left; actually, had I not been preparing to leave on vacation, I could have taken a week to complete the assignment. But I didn’t have a week, so I did the assignment. It wasn’t that difficult to complete, as it turned out. By 9, I decided it was time to hit the road. Rush hour was over. At 9:14, I got into my car and hit the road. I traveled down Pelham Road, not knowing which direction I would head. Would I take I-94 and head west towards Chicago? I came to the intersection with I-94 and stayed on Pelham. No, I would not head toward Chicago. My initial course would take me through Toledo. Pelham Road became Allen Road and eventually intersected with I-75. Traffic out of Detroit and into Toledo wasn’t too bad. I stopped for gas in Toledo, taking advantage of lower prices in Ohio – I paid $1.45 a gallon versus $1.70 in Michigan.

A few miles south of the gas station, I ran into a traffic jam on I-75. There was construction between the intersections with I-280 and I-475, delaying me for 10-15 minutes. Traffic heading northbound looked to be worse, so I made a note to myself to consider a different route on my return. My next decision faced me: should I take US-24 to Fort Wayne, and then head through Indianapolis, or should I stay on I-75 and go through Cincinnati? I stayed on I-75. The drive through Ohio was uneventful; I was listening to Dr. Laura and Rush Limbaugh on WJR until I got out of range, and traffic was not a problem, not even through the construction zone in Dayton. I stopped at a rest area south of Cincinnati in Kentucky for a bit and stretched my legs. About an hour later, I stopped for gas in Carrolton, KY, which is on the way to Louisville. This gas was more expensive than Toledo’s, $1.53 a gallon. I didn’t have any problems going through Louisville, but I could see problems looming in the sky. A cold front was approaching, and skies were getting very dark. As I headed south on I-65, I thought I was going to escape the storms. Unfortunately, I encountered another line of thunderstorms, and these were bad. The rainfall was so intense, I considered pulling off the road. When the rain gets so hard that your windshield wipers can’t wipe it off even at full intensity, it’s time to think about pulling over. The rain waxed and waned. I was driving much more slowly than normal, but I could still drive. By this time, I was getting hungry. My lunch had consisted of a bottle of water and a bag of Doritos ranch flavored chips, so I wanted something more substantial. The continuing storm gave me the perfect opportunity to stop for supper.

I stopped in Elizabethtown, Kentucky at a place called the Texas Roadhouse. I believe it’s part of a chain. I had a ribeye steak and baked potato, along with a salad and some snack peanuts. Like several chains, this place offered peanuts for diners to munch on; unlike those chains, it included a bucket for dumping the shells, rather than sweeping them on the floor. It was an excellent steak! Perhaps it was better because I was hungrier, but I finished all 11 ounces, except for a bit of fat.

When I returned to driving, the rain was still falling, but it had lessened in intensity. The storms were blowing over. Now I had to determine where I wanted to stop for the night: would I stop in Bowling Green, continue to Nashville, or stop somewhere in between? I decided to try Bowling Green. Unknown to me, the Buick Grand National meet was taking place in town, and rooms were hard to find. I stopped at the Microtel Inn, but it was full. I went to the Fairfield Inn next door and was lucky enough to get the last available room. While resting after the drive, I figured out my route options. I had traveled around 468 miles today in nearly 10 hours, including stops. Once I got to Nashville, would I head south through Birmingham and New Orleans (926 miles) or west via Memphis and Little Rock (872 miles)? That was a decision I would sleep on.

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Saturday June 16

Due to the time change (I was now in the Central time zone), I was up fairly early in the morning. I was up by 5, if not slightly before. I packed up and gassed up and hit the road at 6:30 AM. There was fog between Bowling Green and Nashville, and it did slow me up a bit, but it never got so bad that I considered pulling over. As I traveled down I-65, I was listening to WSM Nashville, home of the Grand Ole Opry. It was Fan Fair weekend in Nashville, and the DJ was constantly mentioning that. He was also playing some old country songs from performers who joined the Opry while it was at the historic Ryman Auditorium. I could easily imagine Dad listening to that if he were driving through Nashville. The traffic report said I-40 heading westbound was blocked, but I couldn’t tell where that was. Would it interfere with my drive through Nashville? It turned out that it didn’t; the problem was in downtown, and I stayed west of downtown. I had decided to take the shorter route, through Arkansas, for I wanted to make Texas by that afternoon.

The drive down I-40 was mostly uneventful. I did stop for a time in Jackson, visiting a Steak & Shake for brunch (a Steak & Shake meal) and a Birkenstock/Mephisto shoe store. Having just bought a pair of Mephistos back home in Detroit, I wasn’t in desperate need of shoes. But I did buy a pair of socks. After I got on the road again, I had little difficulties until Memphis. I nearly saw a truck pulling a boat get into an accident; there was a very small merge area from a closed lane, and the truck had difficulty stopping. The bridge crossing the Mississippi was restricted to two lanes, as was I-40 in Arkansas for a ways. I stopped for gas in the town of Earle, having traveled 300 miles from Bowling Green.

As I neared the town of Brinkley, I suddenly got the urge to go to the bathroom. It was an uncomfortable drive for those last few miles, but at last the exit arrived. I found the closest gas station, pulled in there, and found the restroom. After making sure I was done going, I decided to head back for my car. Once there, I discovered that I wasn’t done, so I rushed back in. After that interlude, I looked to see if they had any Imodium. They did, so I got some. I could not afford to be tied to a toilet, not when I had miles and hours of driving ahead of me. Fortunately, the Imodium worked. I could continue driving in peace and relative comfort.

By 5:30, I was arriving in Texarkana. I had been on the road for 11 hours including stops, but I still felt like continuing. So I kept on going, stopping for gas south of town. I was listening to the Rangers play the Astros on radio; the Astros won the game, 2-1. I stopped for supper in Atlanta at the Golden Corral restaurant and had some chicken fried steak. Several police officers were eating there that night, so I figured we were safe from harm. After the good meal, I got back in the car and headed to Marshall. That would be a good place to stop for the night, I figured. But the Holiday Inn Express was full. Several wedding parties were in town, the clerk said, suggesting the Ramada down the street. Fortunately, the Ramada had rooms available. I checked in just in time to participate in my regular Saturday night chat.

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Sunday June 17

Because I only had some 200 miles to go, and because I didn’t want to get to my hotel too early, I took my time leaving Marshall. I had breakfast at the Waffle House next door. I walked to a nearby gas station for a Sunday paper from Dallas. While walking there, I could hear “Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?” blaring from the gas station across 59. I read the paper in my room before packing up and setting off around 9. There was a lot of construction on 59; it was being built to near-freeway specs. I kept flipping around the dial for evidence of Houston radio, but I was still out of range. I could get KLVI out of Beaumont, so I listened to their Sunday morning Cajun music program. When I got tired of that, I turned on the CD player and listened to Wingspan, the new disc set from Wings. Through Nacogdoches (no more Hot Biscuit) and Lufkin, through Livingston and Cleveland and Porter (their Hot Biscuit was still there), and finally I was in the Houston area. I saw few signs of the bad flooding that had taken place there a week or so earlier. I drove past Enron Field, the new home of the Houston Astros. I drove past the site of Gulfgate, the first shopping mall in town. It had been leveled; all that was left was the sign.

It was lunchtime, and I was hungry. I thought I would stop for lunch at Pancho’s near Almeda, but when I got there, I could see that it was quite busy. It was Father’s Day, which probably explained the crowds. So I gave up on that idea and got back on the freeway. Before long, I was at Baybrook. It was 1:15, too early to check in. As I needed to get gas, I stopped at the Shell station for a fill-up, a Sunday paper and a car wash. Then I went into Baybrook and spent a couple of hours there, including lunch at a pizza place in their food court. By that time it was nearly 3, meaning I could check into the hotel. I drove down to Nasa 1 and saw that traffic was backed up; there was new construction on the roadway since March. I made a note to myself to avoid eastbound Nasa 1 in Webster whenever possible. At last I pulled into the Extended Stay America hotel and checked in. I noticed a slight discrepancy in the form that I signed and they key card I received; the form said I was in room 231, while the key card said room 241. I tried 241, and it worked. This would become significant later.

The room had a kitchenette for the preparation of meals, so I went to the new Kroger Signature store on El Camino, built on the site of a former Safeway store. Unfortunately, I could not remember if my room had a microwave, so I didn’t buy any TV dinners. It turned out that the room did have a microwave. After several days of restaurant meals, I ate in my room: a ham sandwich and lime-flavored Lay’s potato chips. The sandwich was good but the chips were not; they went into the trash.

After I went to bed, I suddenly heard noises at the door. Somebody was trying to enter my room! I had the deadbolt on, so I was safe. I asked what was going on, and the man at the door said he was assigned this room. I told him there was a mixup. Later, I got a call from the front desk. Apparently, I was supposed to be in room 231, as my form said. I said I wasn’t moving from my room, because it would have been very inconvenient for me. Fortunately, the matter was resolved to everyone’s satisfaction; the man was put in 231, and I stayed put in 241. All the rooms were identical, so nobody was getting screwed. Now if I had been staying in a fancier room but paying for a less-fancy room, then there would have been pressure on me to move immediately to the less-fancy room. But that was not the case here.

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Monday June 18

Today, I started off slowly. Housekeeping only came by two days a week, so I didn’t have to worry about vacating the room so the maids could do their thing. I wanted to see longtime neighbor George Mallios today and pay my respects after the passing of his wife Rose, who had died on May 31. When I drove by the house for the first time, I saw a strange car there. Thinking he had company, I drove on. I ended up going to the Randall’s grocery store on the other side of League City and bought a few more things, such as crab dip/spread, two TV dinners, etc. After going back to the room, it was nearly lunchtime. I knew I was going to go to Laredo’s for lunch, and I did. Had my usual meal there, too: the deluxe dinner of enchiladas, beans and rice, a taco, a tostada and some chili con queso. I called George, made sure he would be home, and went for a visit. It was good to see him again, though I wish it could have been under better circumstances. The strange car belonged to the housekeeper, he said. We sat out front of the garage and talked about old times, how the old neighborhood was doing, how his sons were doing (one of them was vacationing, boating in the Bahamas), and so on. There were mosquitos in the air, so we’d sprayed some Off on ourselves for protection. Our old house was up for sale; the former residents, whom I’d met in March, had run into financial difficulty and had to sell. Foundation problems had happened again, making it difficult to sell. The neighborhood did not flood during Tropical Storm Allison, unlike back in 1979. Before I left, I went inside and viewed the urn containing Rose’s ashes. It was in a place of honor on the mantle, awaiting a memorial plaque.

After I left, I went to the Barnes & Noble bookstore up on Bay Area and found a book on the history of the Houston Colt .45’s, the original name of the Astros. It was the story of how major-league baseball came to Houston and of the first three years of the franchise. I’m too young to remember them as the Colts or old Colt Stadium. However, I think my dad and some of my relatives went to Colt Stadium once, probably in 1963. I also got a TV Guide and a Sunday Times from London (yesterday’s, in fact). I popped into the nearby CompUSA store looking for an IEEE 1394 port card, but I didn’t find one. Then I decided to go back to the hotel. Supper was a ham sandwich.

That evening, I contacted many family friends and made arrangements to see them over the next week. I ended up scheduling one appointment on top of another by accident; I would have to fix that. But that could wait until tomorrow.

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Tuesday June 19

Once again, I had breakfast in my room. This morning, I took a shower, then went out and got the paper. After reading the paper, I went for a drive up towards Shoreacres and La Porte. I wanted to get these sights on video. Shoreacres is a small town a few miles north of Seabrook. It’s home to the Houston Yacht Club. For two weeks in 1979, it was also the location of our route for the Houston Post. Mom and I were going to deliver the paper to get some extra money, possibly to start setting it aside for my college education. But we quickly found that the life of a newspaper deliverer was not for us, so we gave up the job. Driving through the town brought back some memories for me. The town didn’t seem to have changed that much; then again, how would I have been able to tell? We delivered our papers in the wee hours of the morning.

Next came La Porte. My dad once bought a car from a dealer in La Porte (Jay Marks Chevrolet), but I remember it mainly for the many speech and debate tournaments that took place at the high school. The Sylvan Beach pavilion was also the site for my senior class dinner. Afterwards, I took a drive through Morgan’s Point, hoping to see the replica of the White House that had been built there as a mansion for Governor Sterling in the 1920’s or so. I remember riding past it a long time ago. It took a bit of time, but I found it. I was a bit less impressed with it this time around. Finally, it was back to the hotel, where a friend of mine would pick me up for lunch.

Keith and I went to the Lupe Tortilla restaurant on Bay Area Boulevard, behind the Best Western inn. There had been a Kettle restaurant on the front of the site years ago, but it was long gone now. I had never been to this restaurant before; it was new to me. We went inside and went through a circuitous route to our table. The view outside told us that our seats were very close to the main entrance, albeit in a different room. The food here was very good. We caught up on what was happening, who was coming to the reunion, etc. He said he had not bothered going to his class reunions (he was in the class a year ahead of mine), for he had generally kept in touch with the people with whom he wanted to keep in touch. But it was easier for him to do so, since he lived in the area. I, on the other hand, left to seek my fortune elsewhere, and I generally do not see old classmates unless I return to Houston. We made plans to meet again upon my return from the San Antonio portion of my trip. Before dropping me off at my hotel, I accompanied him on some errands to Michael’s (frames for the pictures he took in Wales and England) and Barnes & Noble (checking out the latest SF). I saw that the original Planet of the Apes novel had been reissued in time for the movie remake. I had owned a copy many years ago but had disposed of it due to space constraints, so I bought it again.

After lunch, I decided to go into town, meaning Houston. I wanted to do one of the things I had wanted to do on my last trip but never got the chance, and that was see Gallery Furniture, where their slogan is “save you money!” “Mattress Mac”, the owner, became very familiar with his commercials saying that slogan, and he’s no hands-off owner. He was right at the front desk as I entered the store, announcing various specials and handling whatever needed to be handled. Just to the right of the entrance is a shrine to Houston sports heroes and to Elvis (an interesting combination). I had been told there was a bowling alley in the store, and sure enough, there was! Nobody was using it at the time. I quickly looked through the store, as I wasn’t in the market for furniture. Realistically speaking, I would shop for most of my furniture closer to Detroit. But I did spend some time reviewing their projection TV’s and HDTV’s. Having just bought a 43” Hitachi HDTV late last year, I was not in the market for a set, but I might have been looking for improved set-top receivers. I don’t recall seeing very many, though, just Panasonic models. So now I could say that I’ve been to Gallery Furniture, and I did save a lot of money. Didn’t spend any! I couldn’t say that about my next destination, the Fry’s electronic superstore on I-45 at West Road, not too far from the North Belt. You could call Fry’s a geek’s paradise or survival outpost. The Silicon Valley institution has arrived in Houston. I was looking for a couple of things: a power supply that I could use with my Amp Can guitar amplifier (didn’t find one, though there were some bench power supply candidates) and a 1394/Firewire PC Card for my laptop (found one). I wasn’t looking for T-160 Super VHS tapes, but I found them there; I ended up buying 13 tapes, which I planned to use to tape repeats of “Laugh-In” off of the Trio network. I also picked up a couple of DVD’s, the first Farscape DVD and Paul McCartney at the Cavern Club.

By this time, it was getting late, so I decided to head for home. But I was not in any particular hurry to get home. Instead of taking the freeway home, I went down North Shepherd. Fifty years ago, that was US 75; that was the route into town (or one of them). I’d never seen this part of town, so I was seeing new sights. One of those “new” sites was an old Sears store. You could tell it was old by looking at the signs. I eventually found my way to South Main, driving past Rice University, the Texas Medical Center, including Hermann Hospital (where I was born, but currently closed as a result of recent flooding), the Astrodome, the under-construction Reliant Stadium, etc. I took South Main all the way down to Beltway 8, which I then followed until its intersection with Highway 288, the South Freeway. I had visions of eating barbecue at Joe’s BBQ in Alvin that night. Those visions were dashed by the long line snaking out the door. It was all-you-can-eat shrimp night, always a popular event. But I didn’t want shrimp, nor did I want to wait in a long line for my barbecue baked potato. Instead, I went to Kelley’s Country Cooking in League City, based on the recommendation of neighbor George. He said they served large portions, and he wasn’t kidding. I couldn’t finish my dinner; I boxed up half of it to take back to the hotel.

I called up the Ivens and told them I couldn’t make it Friday night due to a conflict. Mary Helen suggested I join them at the Putt-Putt in Webster, as Bernie’s sons were celebrating their birthday then. I agreed. I spent the rest of the evening reading my books and listening to the Astros on the radio. They won.

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Wednesday June 20

After my morning breakfast, I made plans to head out early. This was one of the days that Housekeeping would stop by to clean my room, so I wanted to be out before they arrived. I took some pictures and video in League City and then rode down Highway 3 all the way to Galveston. My destination: the Moody Gardens Aquarium. I’d been to Moody Gardens twice before, but the aquarium had opened since my last visit. It was a nice facility, though I think the Monterey Bay Aquarium in California was better. It did have some large exhibits for seals and for penguins.

Lunch was at Joe’s Crab Shack on Seawall Blvd. I had fish and chips – they were OK, though I found the portions to be quite large. I took some pictures along Seawall Blvd., and then I headed for the Bolivar Ferry. I had never been on the Bolivar Ferry before, nor had I ever been over on the Bolivar Peninsula. The ferry ride was interesting; I drove onto the ferry, got out of the car, and went to the upper deck to see the sites. At the stern, seagulls were converging on the food being thrown by passengers. To our right were several ships in the Houston Ship Channel; to our left, Seawolf Park and the industry of Texas City. Eventually, we made it across to Port Bolivar, where we all drove off of the ferry. I headed northeast, following the coastline. There wasn’t much over there, which likely explains why I’d never been there before. I was listening to Rush Limbaugh out of Beaumont as I drove down the road. The newscasts at the top and bottom of each hour were repeating today’s hot story: a mother of five was under arrest for murdering her five children by drowning them. The story was a local one; the murder scene was no more than two miles away from the hotel.

At High Island, all traffic had to turn north; the roadway ahead had been washed out back in 1983. So I followed the roadway north through High Island and through Winnie until I reached I-10. I was startled to see that Beaumont was only 28 miles away. I was over 60 miles from downtown Houston! So I headed west on I-10, pulling over briefly during a heavy thunderstorm. I took Highway 146 through Baytown, across the new Baytown bridge and into the La Porte area. I would head back to the hotel via 225, the East Belt, and I-45.

I had finished a roll of film in Galveston, and I wanted to develop it as soon as possible. I therefore took it to the Eckerd’s drug store just down the block. The store was very busy developing film, much of it from the insurance adjusters in the area assessing the damage from the recent flooding. They could not guarantee one-hour service. Two-hour service was fine, though. I used that opportunity to travel out to Alvin to have the barbecue baked potato at Joe’s. It was good, as always, but I could not finish it today. Today’s lunch was still weighing on me. But it was too good to waste, and I had a refrigerator in which to keep it, so I had it put in a box and took it home. I didn’t go straight home, though; I spent a few minutes at the new Wal-Mart that was behind the restaurant. I picked up some more MiniDV videotapes and two single-use cameras. Then it was time to return to the hotel, pick up the pictures, and identify them while I could easily remember them. I put on the baseball game while identifying the photos – the Astros beat Colorado again.

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Thursday June 21

Today was going to be a bit of a slack day for me, as I was going to go to the baseball game that evening. So I showered and had breakfast. I also washed clothes, as I had acquired some dirty laundry in the course of my trip. While I waited in my room, I read the paper. After the clothes were done, I decided to watch the Farscape DVD I’d bought on Tuesday. I had not seen the series before, but I was persuaded to investigate it. After seeing the two episodes on this disc, I’m glad I was persuaded. It was a very well-done series. I’ll have to start following it.

In the afternoon, I went to the Best Buy in Webster, where I found a spare battery for my MiniDV camcorder. Then I went to the Repp Big & Tall across the freeway, where I found some shirts and pants to my liking, along with a nice tie. I briefly visited the Home Theater Store; they had several nice sets, but I didn’t see any set-top boxes for HDTV reception, so I left. I tried to visit the Bookstop, but they had closed in favor of the nearby Barnes & Noble (they were owned by Barnes & Noble). So it was back to the hotel for lunch. Today’s lunch was what was left of yesterday’s supper: the barbecue baked potato from Joe’s. It was still good.

After resting for a bit, it was time to head for downtown. Although I was heading opposite the direction of most traffic, I still got caught in rush-hour traffic jams. The rain showers didn’t help matters, either. After a drive of some 45 minutes or so, I found myself in downtown Houston, looking for a place to park. I found it at the 4 Houston Center garage. It was located right next to the Park shopping center, the pre-arranged meeting place with my friend Jeff. I walked around for a bit, went back to the car to return my umbrella and jacket, and then went and walked some more. As I sat down to call Jeff’s office, I see him walk up. He had been detained in a late meeting. We decided to eat at Bennigan’s, which was located one floor up. He got a burger, while I got a shrimp plate. If we’d worked it out better, we could have met up with his parents, who were on the other side of downtown, getting ready to see “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas” starting Ann-Margret.

Enron Field, the Astros’ new ballpark, was several blocks away on foot. We stopped by Jeff’s truck so he could drop off his briefcase, and then we proceeded to the game. The stadium was quite different from the familiar confines of the Astrodome. This stadium had a retractable roof; when we arrived, it was closed, but it opened in time for the first pitch. Before the game, I walked around with my little one-time-use camera, taking pictures of the park and its special exhibits. There was an exhibit of the jerseys associated with the Astros over the years, as well as an exhibit of the bats used by famous Astros through history. In the home-run porch out in left field, there was a mock gas pump that tallied the number of home runs hit by the Astros since the park was opened in 2000.

As I said, the roof was open for the game, making this the first open-air professional game I’d seen in Houston. All of the others had been in the Astrodome; this was my first trip to Enron Field. And the game started with a bang: Houston hit three home runs in the first inning. That should have been a good omen, but Cincinnati kept it close throughout the game. There was a persistent breeze blowing out to left the entire game; unfortunately, none of it reached our seats, so we were rather warm most of the game. Our seats were on an aisle, and it was between home plate and us. There was traffic up and down the aisle the entire game, and it interfered with our ability to see the action. Many times, my eyes would travel up to the monitors mounted in the ceiling above us, as I couldn’t see the action at the plate. Thanks to the wind, nine home runs were hit altogether, a park record. That made the game drag on; Jeff left at 9:30, as he had to get home. He wasn’t on vacation. I stuck it out until the end of the 10th inning, for I was concerned about my car being locked in the garage. When I got to the garage, one of the doors was indeed locked. Fortunately, there was another door that was open, and I was able to leave. I put the radio on, and the game was still going, but Cincinnati was breaking it open in the 11th. Houston came back within one run, but they couldn’t tie it up. They lost in 11 innings, 8-7.

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Friday June 22

After having breakfast, I went to the Wal-Mart in Webster to drop off the disposable camera for developing. No one-hour service was available here; the pictures would be ready on Tuesday. But I would not return to the area until Thursday. After dropping them off, I went into town. I went to the Borders bookstore at Meyerland and picked up three books. Then I had lunch at La Madeleine restaurant, which was in the corner of the parking lot. I had some French onion soup, a grilled chicken Caesar salad, a croissant and a Sprite. It was probably healthier for me than my alternative: James Coney Island. Then I stopped in the Bed Bath & Beyond and found a bottle of a locally produced cleaning product called Incredible. I’d heard it recommended on KTRH this past Sunday. It’s supposed to be very good at removing stains. Then I went to the Galleria and visited the Sharper Image. I thought I was going to buy something there, but I didn’t. I did get a milkshake from the Marble Slab Creamery, though. It was very good. I had entertained thoughts about driving Westheimer all the way out until it ended near Eagle Lake, but there was no time for that. I had an engagement that evening, so I went back to the hotel.

That engagement was a play at College of the Mainland: “The Exact Center of the Universe.” I went with Linda Coney and son David; husband Steve was busy judging a swim meet in League City. We had supper at a Chinese buffet restaurant a mile or so away from the theater, in a strip mall not too far from a K-Mart. It was my choice where to eat, and I didn’t feel like Mexican or barbecue. Seeing the buffet, I figured we wouldn’t be stuck waiting for a table, and we weren’t. The food was quite good; all agreed I’d made a good choice. Afterwards, we went back to the theater. I had been there a number of times while in high school, but this was the first visit for me in some 20 years. It was theater in the round (or three-quarters round). The play concerned a woman who disapproved of her son’s marriage. One of Linda’s friends had a role in the play. Afterwards, we went back to their house. I got to meet David’s wife Andrea, and we all talked for a good while.

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Saturday June 23

Saturday morning proved to be another slack day for me; I stayed in and read, mainly. I put up the Do Not Disturb sign so that the housekeeping staff would not stop by with clean towels; I still had several clean towels. For lunch, I finally had one of the TV dinners I bought earlier in the week. It turned out I wasn’t missing anything, as I wasn’t all that impressed. The other dinner would go into the garbage tomorrow, and it would be no great loss.

I went for a drive in the afternoon; I wanted to see where the new Highway 96 went. It will eventually go all the way from I-46 to Highway 146; the segment from I-45 to Highway 3 was still under construction, but the part east of there was complete. It was a very nice highway; I could see how convenient it would be to get across town without having to put up with League City traffic. After that, it was time to go to Putt-Putt. I was going to see the Ivens there, as Bernie’s sons were having a birthday party. When I got there, they had yet to arrive, so I decided to play a game of Putt-Putt. After the first game, I couldn’t see them anywhere, though I was sure I’d seen Mary Helen arrive. In the middle of my second game, Bobby came out to see me. They were in the upstairs party rooms. I didn’t know there was an upstairs, I said. He told me where the staircase was, and I went up there after finishing the second game. Everyone was having a good time – everyone who was there, that is; Clem was sick and chose to recuperate at home. Still, it was nice to see everyone there.

For supper, I went to Fuddrucker’s on Nasa Road 1. The burger was messy but good. After that, I stopped at a convenience store and picked up an advance copy of the Sunday paper. I could read all of the Sunday sections that night rather than on Sunday. I listened to the ballgame on the radio (the Astros won) and participated in my weekly computer chat with the other members of the Totally Tracey Ullman club.

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Sunday June 24

It was time to pack up; part one of the vacation was over. Part 2, a trip to San Antonio, was about to begin. I packed my bags, retrieved the luggage cart from downstairs, and loaded the car in one trip. I finished cleaning out the refrigerator; out went the meal from Tuesday night that I never got around to finishing. The unopened cans of pop went back into the box for use elsewhere, perhaps in San Antonio, perhaps even back home. It was 9:30 when I left the hotel; I would consider staying there in the future. I swung by our old house and saw George Mallios again before heading out around 10. We talked for a few minutes, but not much had happened in the past week. I did go in and see the plaque that was now next to the urn of Rose’s ashes; that had arrived after my last visit. After leaving Newport, I went up the freeway and into town, then took I-10 and headed out of town. Two weeks ago, many of these freeways were impassible due to flooding; I would have needed a submarine to navigate them then. When passing the Katy Mills outlet mall, I saw a billboard for another outlet mall further down the road. Come visit a REAL outlet mall and pay REAL outlet prices, it said. Ooh, they’re getting nasty. I stopped for lunch at Mikeska’s BBQ in Columbus. They had a Sunday buffet, but all I wanted was a chopped beef barbecue sandwich. It was OK, but Joe’s was better. It was much better, in fact. The decor was interesting; much of the restaurant was filled with mounted and stuffed animal heads. One wall had a picture exhibit of many of the famous people to have visited the restaurant; among the faces I recognized were President Bush the Younger (probably back when he was governor), former governor Ann Richards, Senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson, etc.

I continued onward. The terrain got more rolling. I was listening to the pre-game show on KTRH, but I had to change stations because I was losing the signal. Before long, I was in San Antonio. This was my first visit in 9 years and my first visit ever on vacation. Traffic wasn’t too bad; given that this was Sunday, I wouldn’t expect it to be bad. I-10 became US 90, and then I saw the exit for my hotel. It was a Holiday Inn near Lackland Air Force Base. I’d chosen it because I thought it might be within walking distance of the minor-league baseball stadium. However, when I drove past, I could tell it was not within comfortable walking distance. There wasn’t much around the hotel; it was not in a tourist zone.

It was too soon to check in, so I went for a brief spin on Loop 410 and stopped at the Ingram Park Mall. The only thing I got there was a San Antonio paper. By that time, I was able to check into my room. One thing that I noticed immediately: no elevator. I had to make five trips up and down those stairs to unload my car. I then tried to set up my laptop for dialing out to the Net. Unfortunately, my modem could not establish a dial-up connection, no matter what I did. The laptop had locked up yesterday; could that have been causing the problem? I was able to make a connection through my cell phone and calling my provider back in Detroit, but I limited myself to e-mail due to the low bandwidth.

It was time for supper, and I wanted to try a place that had been recommended to me by the Coneys: the Jailhouse Caf�. It was located right across from the Bexar County Jail, thus the name. I had some difficulty finding the restaurant; the main road ran as an overpass, but the restaurant itself was on a service road alongside the overpass. For a while, the service road was blocked by a stopped train, preventing me from seeing the place. The large number of men hanging around for no good reason and looking rather scuzzy gave me the willies, so I drove off and went around the block. By that time, the train was gone, and I found the restaurant. I immediately noticed the sign saying that the restaurant would soon move to a new location. But it was open for business today. The interior was whitewashed cinder blocks, giving a good impression of a correctional facility. I had the Deputy Special; a chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, green beans and some bread. They claim to have the best chicken fried steak in town if not in Texas, and they’re not far from wrong in saying so. It was delicious, even though I couldn’t finish the steak. Afterwards, I drove around downtown San Antonio for a while. If I had had my cameras with me, I might have stopped and seen the sights. As it was, I drove past the Alamo and found myself heading northwest on Broadway. This put me in the general direction of Trinity University. I turned at the intersection featuring Earl Abel’s restaurant (a relic of the 40’s or 50’s on the outside) and headed towards the US 281 freeway. That allowed me to briefly glimpse Alamo Stadium, Trinity’s football stadium. I went back to my hotel and planned my sightseeing adventures for tomorrow. Then I put on the Channel 4 news at 10.

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Monday June 25

I fell asleep while watching the news, for I woke up in the middle of the night and noticed that the TV and lights were still on. I turned them off and went back to bed. When I woke up for good, it was after 6. The clock was blinking, implying that the power had gone off in the middle of the night. From the time shown on the clock, power came back at 5 AM. I went down to the restaurant for breakfast, but it was not open at 7, like it was supposed to have been. I was going to visit a nearby restaurant for breakfast, but I could see a huge commotion west of the hotel on old US 90. Police had the road blocked off. Apparently, there had been a huge building fire nearby during the night, and it was still smoking. It was a cleaners that had been in business for years; the story made the news and the traffic reports and would be on the front page in tomorrow’s newspaper. So I ended up having a cookie for breakfast. I got a paper downstairs and read it.

Fortunately, I could reach downtown by heading east, away from the fire scene. I went there after 8. My goal was to get to the parking deck at Rivercenter, but I had a bit of difficulty getting there. I eventually found my way to the entrance and parked my car for the day. My first stop was the homebase for a tour trolley, where I bought my ticket. The office was packed with Rotarians in town for their international convention; they wanted to do some sightseeing, too. While I waited for the trolley to load, I walked to the grounds of the Alamo and took some pictures of it as well as the memorial to the fallen heroes. No Texan can go there and not be affected by the memories of the sacrifices of the defenders. I’m a Texan, and I was affected. If it had not been for Travis, Bowie, Crockett and compatriots, I probably wouldn’t have been a Texan. I bet I would have been a Floridian, for I suspect NASA would have put the Manned Spacecraft Center at the Cape if Texas weren’t available. But I digress….

At last, it was time to board the trolley. The windows had a fine grating on them that interfered with any picture taking attempts. We drove out of downtown past the Institute of Texas Cultures (closed that day) and went to our first stop, Mission San Jose. It was one of five missions built in San Antonio, and it was the one that was closest to its vintage appearance. I got off and visited the grounds for half an hour, taking several pictures and several minutes of video. While I was there, I saw a musical group dressed in Western suits posing for pictures; I didn’t recognize the group. Back on board the trolley, we headed to our next destination, Mission Concepcion. Normally, it was a destination stop, but not today; it was being used for a funeral, so we drove by and went onward. We passed a street named King Roger Street; I thought I should return and get a picture of it sometime, ha ha. Back to downtown we went, to the Market District and La Villita, the oldest part of San Antonio. I got off at the stop for La Villita and walked through Hemisfair Park, site of the big Hemisfair ’68. I remember seeing a lot of bumper stickers for it at school, but we never went to it. My destination was the tall Tower of the Americas, where one could get a view of the entire area. I took a lot of pictures and video up there. I’ve been in taller observation decks; heck, I’ve been in the tallest one, the Skypod at the CN Tower in Toronto. But this was still an impressive view. A couple of floors above the observation deck was a restaurant, but I didn’t eat there. I didn’t have a reservation, and the food probably wasn’t that good anyway. I went back down and walked over to the Rivercenter Mall, for I had finished a roll of film and wanted to get it developed. I dropped it off at the Ritz Camera store and headed down to water level.

The Rivercenter Mall is built on an extension of the San Antonio River, which meant that it was part of the famous Riverwalk. From here, one could board boats that cruised the river, showing the sights along the Riverwalk. I decided to take that cruise. It was a good thing I had applied sunscreen that morning, for there were few if any clouds in the sky, and shade was a precious commodity on the water. My black camera bag was getting warm from exposure to the sun. As we cruised the river, I switched from one camera to another; I’d take some video for a while, then I’d take a still photograph, then back to video, etc. We went past a Mexican restaurant while a mariachi band was playing for the patrons. We went past a hotel whose rooms had been pre-fabricated at another site, then lifted by crane into place. We went past a number of hotels and restaurants; when I visit San Antonio again, I would like to stay downtown.

When the cruise ended and we were dropped off at the dock, I went back for my pictures. Unfortunately, they were not done, so I decided to visit the Alamo and actually enter it. I’d stayed outside in the morning. Cameras were not allowed to be used inside the shrine, so I put everything in my bag and removed my hat as I entered the shrine. Inside the shrine were flags representing the nationalities of the men who defended the Alamo to their deaths. One display case had several items that belonged to Davy Crockett. At the far end were plaques listing all of the known defenders, plus one plaque for those defenders whose names were known only to God. The shrine was originally the mission chapel and was at the rear of the compound; the western wall of the grounds was several yards away, on the site of what was once a Woolworth’s store and is now a Foot Locker store. In between were the Long Barracks, now used as another exhibit hall that told the story of the fight to hold the Alamo. Inside the museum and gift shop were paintings of several key figures from the struggle, including Col. Travis, Jim Bowie and one of the doctors, as well as a scale model showing the final assault on the compound. I didn’t buy anything from the gift shop. However, I did buy something for my aunt Marie at a nearby store called Cats Cats Cats (she’s a cat owner and lover). When I went back for my pictures, they were done at last. The store was rather busy at the time; at least two Rotary delegates from Nigeria were there, as well as one from India. But I got my pictures. By this time, it was mid-afternoon, and I was tired and hungry. My hotel was out in the suburbs, so once I left downtown I would be gone for the day. But I had done what I wanted to do, so I paid my parking bill and left. I went back toward the hotel but passed it by, for I didn’t want to eat at the hotel restaurant. Instead, I got on Loop 410 until I came upon a Luby’s Cafeteria, where I had a late lunch. Afterwards, I went back to the hotel to rest and to identify my pictures. I’ve always had a preference for one-hour film labs, for they allow pictures to be developed so quickly that I can identify them while the action is still fresh in my mind. Of course, that’s only true for the pictures I took that day or the day before. If there are pictures from several months ago, it doesn’t help that much. On the way back to the hotel, I passed by the burned-out cleaners; what a mess!

At 6:15, I left for the 7 PM baseball game between the San Antonio Missions and the Arkansas Travelers, a Double-A Texas League game. Nelson Wolff Stadium is a nice facility for baseball. You can get very close to the action there; I’m sure that’s true at most minor league parks. My seat tonight was front row, right behind the catcher. You can’t get much better than that. Since I was still fairly full from lunch, I only bought a hot dog and a root beer for supper. While applying condiments to my hot dog, someone noticed my Lansing Lugnuts cap and asked if I was from there. I said yes, more or less; actually, I said I was from Houston but now living in Detroit. He said he’d been to Olds Park and thought it was a nice facility; his wife suggested I take in a Dayton game sometime. A local troop of Cub Scouts sang the National Anthem. The game started very well for San Antonio, who jumped out to an early lead against Arkansas. They would go on to win the game, 6-1; their pitcher would hurl a complete game. I brought my good camera to the game and took some good shots, including a run that wasn’t. The runner had to go back to third because the batter had hit a ground rule double; the ball stuck in the tarp. However, he would score again on the next play. The pictures would turn out well, but I would regret not having brought my 70-210 mm zoom lens to the game.

The game ended before 10; I had no problem getting to my car and leaving the grounds. And the hotel wasn’t that far away. I got back, put the TV on and started to read. I turned down the temperature on the A/C because it was stuffy. Not long after, I suddenly got very chilly. I put on a shirt and went under the covers; I was still shivering. It was an omen of things to come.

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Tuesday June 26

This was not a pleasant day for me. I didn’t get to sleep until after 3 AM and woke up around 8:30 after a fitful sleep. I had started out being chilled to the bone, and now I was sticky and sweaty. In addition to that, I had a case of the runs. But I thought I was well enough to go to Denny’s for breakfast. I wasn’t very hungry; all I had was a bowl of oatmeal, an English muffin and a large glass of orange juice. Within an hour, my breakfast was in the toilet. I couldn’t keep any food down.

Obviously, any plans I had for seeing the sights were out the window. In my case, a more apt phrase would be “down the toilet.” But I really wanted to get my roll of film developed. I felt sufficiently well enough to take a drive across town to the North Star Mall – after I had taken some Imodium, that is. While the film was being developed, I wandered around the mall, buying a couple of books at the B. Dalton bookstore. I sat down to rest more often than usual, because I was weaker than normal. I had to visit the restroom twice, too. Fortunately, the Imodium was doing its job. For lunch, I avoided solid food and had a strawberry-banana smoothie; it was very good. Finally, the pictures were ready; they’d turned out pretty well. After leaving the mall, I went across the freeway to the Best Buy and the Barnes & Noble, where I bought a Chronicle. By that time, my energy was definitely flagging, so I got in the car and went back to my hotel. If I had been home instead of on vacation, I wouldn’t have been going out like this.

I would spend the afternoon watching TV Land and Odyssey. I reviewed and identified my pictures while “Get Smart” was airing on TV Land. Later that evening, I ventured off in search of a drugstore for more Imodium or its generic equivalent, just in case. I found some at a nearby Walgreen’s. I also picked up a frozen pizza, for I was beginning to feel a bit better. While heating the pizza in the microwave oven, I turned on the Missions broadcast. The pizza was too hot to handle, so I had to let it cool for a bit, but it cooled down, and I was able to eat it. And what’s more, it stayed down this time. Yes, it appeared I was on the mend. I suspect I had a case of food poisoning. I had felt the same way on New Year’s Eve after consuming some eggnog. Might it have come from that stadium hot dog? I’ll never know for sure. I continued listening to the ballgame, but I did not stay awake until the end. After the rough night I had, I needed it.

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Wednesday June 27

It was time for me to leave San Antonio. I was not 100%, but I was able to function. I packed up and loaded the car; it was easier taking the luggage down the stairs rather than up. I read the morning paper, and then I checked out. I wanted to see some of the sights that I had missed out on yesterday. I started by heading back downtown to the Rivercenter Mall and the Imax Theater, where I would watch a movie on the battle of the Alamo. I thought it was very well done, even though the actors were unknowns, though one of them was Patrick Swayze’s brother. After the movie ended, I hung around the mall briefly, and then I went to the zoo. The zoo was a nice facility, though it was small compared to the San Diego Zoo. Still, it had some nice exhibits, including two very noisy birds and a cockatoo that appeared to know that I was talking about it while filming it. I spent an hour at the zoo; I didn’t want to overdo it. After I left, I went to the Quarry Market shopping area, where I ate lunch at a Zoopa restaurant. Zoopa was a soup-and-salad-bar restaurant owned by the Fresh Choice company, which is based in California. It was pretty good; I wish we had places like that in Detroit. Afterwards, I spent some time at the Borders across the parking lot. I was looking for one book in particular: Vulgarians at the Gate by Steve Allen. I’d seen his widow and son speak about the book on C-Span2 Sunday night; their talk had been taped at the Barnes & Noble in Santa Monica (a store I had visited last year on my trip out to LA). I found it and bought it. Then I got back on the freeway and headed to Loop 410, which I would take around town until I reached I-10, the road back to Houston. But at Seguin, I would leave I-10 and take another route back towards Houston. I would take US 90A, or Alternate US 90. This would take me to Rosenberg, my destination for the evening. Through Seguin and Gonzales, through Shiner and Eagle Lake. Due to misleading signs, I would briefly get lost in Eagle Lake, though I found my way again very quickly. The rolling terrain and the occasional cactus alongside the road faded away, and I was back to the familiar flatlands of the upper Texas coast. At last I reached the city of Rosenberg, located in the far southwest part of the Houston area. I would be staying at the Holiday Inn Express, which I knew was near US 59, the Southwest Freeway. I turned off of 90A onto Highway 36, as this would get me closer to the freeway. I could see the sign for the hotel in the distance; it was on the other side of the freeway, located next to a Waffle House restaurant.

Now why did I want to stay in Rosenberg? My plans for this day were uncertain; I wasn’t certain where I would be or would want to be. Perhaps I would have gone up to Austin for a day. But I chose to come back to the Houston area, to stay in a different part of town than usual. Every other time I’d been in the area, I always stayed in the south or southeast parts of town. That was only natural, for that was my hometown area. Staying in the southwest part of town, even the far southwest part, would be a change. After I unpacked my basic luggage (most of it stayed in the car), I took a ride up the Southwest Freeway and visited the First Colony Mall. I would eat at Ninfa’s restaurant there, though afterwards I would wonder why. I had eaten a lot of Mexican food lately, and I probably should have had something different. I would visit a store that was devoted to anime and Japanese CD’s. I would visit a nearby Tweeter store and see a multistandard VCR at a reasonable price; I made a note to consider coming back for it in the next few days (my schedule did not permit it, unfortunately). I popped into a Best Buy down the road; the layout inside was identical to the Westland store, so much so that I jokingly wondered that I would step outside and be transported back to Westland. That would be a cheap method of transportation. But I left the store without getting anything, and I stepped out into a warm and muggy southeast Texas evening. Back at the hotel, I was able to successfully establish a dial-up connection with my laptop; clearly, my problems in San Antonio were with the phone.

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Thursday June 28

The Holiday Inn Express offered a free continental breakfast; I took advantage of their hospitality. They also had copies of the Chronicle available for the taking; I did not take advantage of it, for I didn’t know of it until after I had bought mine from the rack. I didn’t have far to drive today, so I took my time getting ready. It wasn’t until 10 that I left. I visited a nearby gas station for some gas and a carwash. I considered going to visit the San Jacinto Battleground and Monument, as it had been years since I’d been in the monument. But the view from Beltway 8 persuaded me that the view from the monument would be less than ideal. There was a lot of haze in the air, or perhaps it was dust that had blown across the ocean from Africa. As I neared the exit for the Gulf Freeway, I found myself getting hungry. I would look for a restaurant near Almeda, so I got off at the Beamer Road exit. Beamer Road took me past Dobie High School, which I had visited on a few occasions while still in high school. Up on Fuqua, I noticed a sign for CiCi’s Pizza, a restaurant I had wanted to try for some time. I pulled into the parking lot, but before I entered the restaurant, I tried calling the Vandervorts again. I’d called earlier and was expecting a return call on my cell phone, but I never got one. I found out that they had gotten an error message: I was out of range. I don’t think that was true, but no matter. This time, I got through, and we reviewed our plans. I wanted to visit them in Alvin, but this weekend would not be convenient for them. However, they were going to go to lunch at the Luby’s cafeteria at Baybrook, and they invited me to join them. So I canceled my plans for CiCi’s and went down to Baybrook, where we had a nice lunch.

When I left, I headed off to the west to kill some time. Did Bay Area Boulvevard now cross Clear Creek? It did indeed. There was now another way to get around town. So now I could get to 518 in League City via two ways. I filed it away for future reference as I went across town to head for my next home for the next few days, the South Shore Harbour Resort and Convention Center. I parked at the front door and went inside to register. I would have room 907 for the weekend. I moved my car to the big lot south of the hotel and started to unload the car. There was an elevator near the entrance, but it appeared to be stuck. I informed the front desk and asked about other elevators. They directed me to the ones on the north side of the hotel. These elevators had a view; as one went up, one could get an ever-expanding view of League City and Clear Lake. My room had a view as well; from my balcony, I could see the marina and the hotel pool below. Off in the distance was Clear Lake and El Lago. To the right was the Kemah-Seabrook bridge. Way off in the distance were the petrochemical plants of Bayport and the Baytown bridge. The Nasa 1 bridge between Nassau Bay and Clear Lake Forest was to the left. I finished unloading the car and unpacked. I called up Keith and told him I was back in town. He invited me to his house for dinner with his extended family; his parents and grandmother were in town, also, and this was his week to have custody of his daughter Hannah. I was asked to bring my guitar, which I did. His house was in a new subdivision of League City, a mile or so west of Newport. His backyard butted against a wooded area; in fact, when I saw his backyard, the orientation of the fence and placement of the trees reminded me of our backyard at home. I can’t remember what I had for supper, but it was good. Afterwards, I pulled out my guitar and sang a few songs; they thought I was good. I couldn’t stay too long, though, for I really wanted to get my pictures from Wal-Mart, the pictures from last Thursday’s ballgame. So I left around 8 and went to the Webster Wal-Mart. The pictures were in, but they turned out only so-so. Some pictures came out better than others, such as the pictures of the jerseys and the bats and the scoreboard, but many of the pictures of the field were too wide to be that interesting. The disposable camera worked, but I was used to better cameras, so I found the pictures wanting. Back at the hotel, I parked in the lower level near the working elevators.

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Friday June 29

The restaurant had a breakfast buffet, and I took advantage of it. I also took advantage of my 9th-floor vantage point to shoot several pictures and several minutes of video; I never had a view of the area like this before.

I went back to Laredo’s in Seabrook for lunch and had my usual. This time, though, it wasn’t quite as good as before. I suspect it was not so much the food as it was me; I’d had a lot of Mexican food lately, and I was still feeling some aftereffects from my bout with food poisoning earlier in the week. Eating meals containing beans may not have been wise under those conditions. I found out how unwise it was when I arrived at Space Center Houston for a brief visit. And I don’t think I need to go into any more detail about that. The place was crowded today; there were several youth groups taking the tour. I focused on two exhibits, the temporary exhibit “The Need For Speed” and the Mission Status Center update.

I now found myself faced with a dilemma. The first part of the reunion was to begin tonight, a casual affair at the Hooker’s Nook bar in the marina (the name refers to fishermen, not the other kind of hookers). I was also invited to dinner and general hanging out at Keith’s, where I’d also get to spend time with two former classmates named David: David McFalls and David Horrigan. I wanted to do both, but how? I solved my dilemma by going to the casual reunion party first and spending an hour or so there, then heading over to Keith’s, then possibly returning for the tail end of the party. I was one of the first people to arrive. In fact, I think I was the first non-organizer who showed up. I spent some time talking to Glen Harrison and Laurie Scarcella Delasandri, and I chatted a bit with Gary Dalton, who was serving as DJ for the evening. The music was a bit loud when nobody was in the room. A little while later, Mark Wilkinson arrived. I don’t think I’d seen him since high school. He asked if I still had my Takamine 12-string guitar (I did). He had done well enough with stock options from his last job to take the next year off; that’s a nice position to be in. Bernie Iven and Joe Pugh were there; so were Randy Bishop and his toddler son. I checked my watch; it was 7:15. It was time for me to move on to engagement number two. I took my leave from the conversation I was having with Mark and with Rob Wohrer. Rob was concerned he would miss tomorrow night’s reunion because of a funeral he had to attend.

When I arrived at Keith’s house, he was not there. But brother David was there; he was getting ready to leave for the casual reunion, along with Greg Laurence. Like I said, I wanted to be in two places at once. Actually, I would have liked to be in three places; in addition to these two events, there was an important Bah�’� conference taking place that weekend in Milwaukee. I needed to back out of the driveway to allow David and Greg to leave; as we were rearranging our cars, Keith pulled up. David Horrigan was with him; I can’t remember the last time I had seen him, though we had been in contact via e-mail. He did not want to go to the casual reunion. We all had some red beans and rice, prepared by Keith’s grandmother. In the midst of our conversation, Hannah thought I was loud. I wasn’t yelling or screaming or anything, but I can certainly project my voice. I can thank Claire Harmon and the Apprentice Theater for that; those 5 years of acting class helped make me who I am today, in part. But I digress…. Our evening was spent in a combination of talk and TV watching, joined later on by David McFalls. We watched the season premiere of Stargate on Showtime, a little bit of that night’s episode of Farscape, half of the movie Unbreakable, all of the movie Spies Like Us, a little bit of some raunchy programming on Showtime, half of the South Park movie, and who knows what else.

As the night wore on and our conversations continued, I saw that I probably wasn’t going to make it back to the casual reunion. And I didn’t. But we got a briefing from David Z. and Greg upon their return. They said many people were asking about me there, wondering if I was going to show up. The place was packed in the late evening, they said, and the air conditioning wasn’t working. People were spilling out onto the deck, trying to get some air and to cool off. By all accounts, a splendid time was had by all. I wish I could have spent more time there, but I didn’t regret how I spent my evening – not at all. But it was time to leave – it was 2:30 in the morning! So I took my leave and headed back to the hotel accompanied by the sounds of the Dave Nemo truckers’ radio program on WWL New Orleans (I didn’t feel like Art Bell).

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Saturday June 30

I woke up at 8:30 in the morning – only 5 1/2 hours of sleep. The breakfast buffet was still available, so I took advantage of it again. This morning, I limited myself to cold selections, for the most part, though I did take a few pieces of bacon. That was significant when it came to signing for the bill; the full buffet is more expensive than the so-called Continental buffet, and today I only had to pay the Continental price. Afterwards, I went for a walk down to the corner Walgreen’s for a newspaper. For some reason, the gift shop doesn’t carry the Chronicle. Guests do receive a free USA Today every weekday morning, but what if you don’t want a USA Today? If I wanted a Chronicle (which I did), I had to go elsewhere for it. Right now, the Walgreen’s was the closest “elsewhere.” When I got back to my room, I read the paper, and then I fired up the laptop for an e-mail check. While I was retrieving my mail, David Horrigan called (the room has two lines). I asked him to call me back in ten minutes until I’d retrieved my mail. When he called back, he asked if I wanted to spend the afternoon at Doug Abel’s house in Pearland. Doug was another former classmate of ours, though he was three years behind us in school. I agreed and made plans to pick David up at Keith’s later that morning.

Doug, wife Kathleen, daughter Mallory and dog Guinness lived in a new home in Pearland, not far from the intersection of Cullen Road and FM 518. I didn’t have definite directions, so David called Doug on my cell phone, and Doug talked us in. We got the grand tour of the house, then sat around, drank a bit (margaritas for them, Sprite for me), etc. David went on a shopping trip for the ingredients to “mystery queso” as well as for some items of clothing that had gone missing or had been mislaid. Kathleen joined us later; she was from Friendswood, class of 1980. Their reunions are tied to their football seasons; in her case, the 20th reunion would have been in the fall of 1999. A bit later, their neighbor Red stopped by; she was a former roommate of Dave’s in New Orleans. A while after that, David Kilgore and his wife stopped by; they were picking up David H. and going to David K’s sister Sarah’s wedding. My circle of friends had a profusion of Davids: David Horrigan, David Kilgore, David Zabalaoui, etc. I was invited to come to the wedding too but passed; I had a roll of film to develop. However, I asked them to convey my congratulations and best wishes to Sarah. I was also invited to a barbecue on Sunday afternoon in the Abel’s backyard. Given the lack of grass, it was to have a beach theme. I said I would consider it, but I was doubtful that I could attend. I was planning to leave town on Sunday.

I left for “home” around 6. This time, I went down to 518 and took that across town. I was amazed at how built-up the area was. I could remember taking this road home from the dentist’s office when I was a young boy, and there was hardly anything out here. Now, it was solid development from Highway 35 to FM 528 in Friendswood. League City still has some open spaces, but those are vanishing quickly. I got to the Walgreen’s and dropped off the film, then went back to the hotel for a shower and shave. It was now time for dinner; I had considered stopping at a McDonald’s, but I said no, I would be eating plenty of fast food on the road. I had changed into my suit for the reunion, so I decided to stay in and eat in the restaurant downstairs. I chose a nice seafood dish, along with some French onion soup as an appetizer. While I was eating my meal, I saw some faces from my past: A party including classmates Julie Vaughn and Lupe Ramirez entered the restaurant for their dinner. I didn’t get to talk to them that much, though. After supper, the pictures were ready. I didn’t want to get sweaty walking over to the drugstore, so I drove over and picked them up. I’d gotten double prints this time, for David H. and I had taken a few pictures at the Abels’s, and he might be interested in a copy of them. I separated the prints into two identical stacks and then proceeded to identify the photos in one stack. Later that night, I would let Dave pick out the pictures he wanted from the other stack.

At last it was time for the reunion! I was equipped with my Hi-8 video camera when I went downstairs. I finally paid for the reunion; due to a delay in cashing my check, I thought it had been lost and so I stopped payment on it. But all was set now. The guests began arriving. Duncan Allred was there in his Navy dress uniform; he had flown in from Okinawa. Rob Wohrer did make it back from the funeral in time to attend. Wendy Cast Robertson was there with her older sister, who was there with her husband. Former neighbor Mark McGee was there, though he was three years older than me; he was there as the spouse of Laura Kennedy. Many others were there, of course, but space prevents me from mentioning them all. Of course, the Davids were there (Zab and Horrigan). Even Keith showed up. He’d never gone to any of his class’s reunions, but he came to ours. He did know many people from our class, just as I knew many from his. Pictures were being taken everywhere by just about everyone. Many people had digital cameras; I was the only one with a video camera. I didn’t take that much video; several times, I held the camera above my head and panned around the room, trying to be somewhat unobtrusive. Fortunately, the lighting was better this time around, and so was the camera. I’d taken video in 1991, and it was extremely dark. Not so this time around; the picture was nice and bright. Gary Dalton’s band played after 10 PM. Unfortunately for the audience, they played original songs that nobody knew, and their vocals were buried in the mix. But they had fun, and they got paid. A few of us were reviewing a yearbook and comparing the lengths of our biographies. Mine wasn’t the longest (I forget whose was), but it was of a decent length. I observed that I was the only one of the five valedictorians who showed up; the others were Leslie Everette, who was at the 10-year reunion, and Kirk Ott, Aarthi Rau and Marty Belansky, none of whom I’ve seen since graduation. There were some others whom I’d wanted to see but were not there due to conflicts, such as Melissa Mayo (stuck working in Tyler), Kelly Marcom (stuck working in North Carolina) and Karen Rappaport (in New York on vacation, scheduled before she knew about the reunion).

The official end of the reunion was 1 AM. That was when everyone and everything was cleared out of the ballroom and the doors padlocked. The security guard was in the lobby, his presence encouraging non-guests to leave. I was a hotel guest, so I didn’t have to leave. But several of us were going to the all-night IHOP on Nasa Road 1 for an early breakfast, so I went along. I rode with David Z; Greg Laurence was not far behind. Keith, David H., Robert Rodriguez and the former Dana Payne were riding separately and had beaten us there. I was surprised at how crowded an IHOP was at 2 in the morning. The waitress wondered if we were recovering from a night of clubbing; no, we said, we just got out of a reunion. I had a plate of German pancakes, which were actually butter-filled crepes. They were quite good. Our talks continued. We got into a discussion about the appropriateness of the selection of the girl who was most fun to be with. Cristen Gardner was the winner, even though she had been killed in a traffic accident around the beginning of our senior year. I didn’t think it was inappropriate; to me, it was a nice way to honor her memory. There were claims that the elections for the class songs for 1980 and ’81 were rigged; apparently, one year, the true winner was Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick In The Wall Part 2”, but the staff suppressed it. When you consider that the lyrics went “We don’t need no education/We don’t need no thought control,” I can understand why the staff might not want that as the class song. The eventual winner was the theme from Mahogany; I was part of the band that performed it at graduation. The talk turned to the drama teacher and his flamboyant ways. From 20-year hindsight, it was clear to most that he was gay, but nobody made that conclusion at the time. I never had any dealings with him, so I can’t confirm this opinion. Our waitress took her time arriving with the bill, but we weren’t too upset, for we didn’t want this night to end. But it had to end, and so we went our separate ways. David Z. took me back to the hotel, and I went up to my room and called it a night.

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Sunday July 1

The fact that my room faced east helped me to wake up Sunday morning, as the sunlight streamed in via a partially open curtain. I could not dilly-dally too long this morning; I had to pack and leave the hotel by noon. I’d been invited to two barbecues in the afternoon, but I decided to skip those, for I wanted to be on the road. By the time those started, I wanted to be in northeast Texas heading towards Texarkana.

It didn’t take me that long to pack and load the car; I did it in three, perhaps four trips. By 9:22 AM, I was checked out of the hotel and ready to roll. I stopped for gas just down the street, then went through League City and got on the freeway. I had no problems going into and out of town. I listened to the Cajun music show on KLVI for a while, and when I got tired of that, I started dial-spinning – not that it’s physically possible to spin the dial on a car radio anymore. A little after 1, I stopped for lunch at a Whataburger restaurant in the small east Texas town of Timpson. I bought a double-burger combo. Perhaps I should have stuck with the single burger combo, for I could not finish the double-burger. I ate 3/4 or 7/8 of it, but not all of it. An hour down the road, I stopped for gas in Marshall. An hour or so after that, I was in Texarkana and left Texas behind, crossing into Arkansas.

The drive up I-30 was uneventful, though there were a number of construction zones. As I neared the town of Benton, I suddenly got very tired. I felt like I was going to fall asleep at any moment. That’s a bad situation to be in when you’re driving a car; when that happens, it’s time to pull over. I wanted to get past Little Rock that night, but it wasn’t going to happen. I stopped at the Scottish Inn; compared to the South Shore Harbour hotel, it was a very bare-bones, Spartan establishment. However, it was clean, and it had a bed. At that point, that was all I needed. So I charged the $35 to my American Express card and got the key to room 105. I rested briefly then proceeded to drive down the street to the CiCi’s Pizza restaurant I’d spotted on the way in. CiCi’s is a pizza buffet restaurant, all-you-can-eat pizza for one low price. The pizza wasn’t bad; it wasn’t outstanding pizza, but it wasn’t bad, and it filled me up. Then it was back to the hotel for an e-mail check and for a night of rest. I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, finally settling on an ESPN baseball game.

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Monday July 2

I woke up in the middle of the night to find ESPN still on; clearly, I’d fallen asleep during the game. I definitely needed the rest after the late nights Friday and Saturday and the long drive Sunday. When I woke up for good, it was morning, and the sun had risen. I wanted to get an early start, so I quickly packed and got going. It was shortly after 7 when I left. As I neared Little Rock, traffic started to slow. I was caught in its rush hour. Fortunately, it seemed to be concentrated around one freeway intersection, and once I was past that, I had no further problems. I stopped for gas in Brinkley, the town that has been a traditional stopping point for us. I also picked up some Rice Krispies Treats; they would be my breakfast. Down I-40 I went, then up I-55. Around 11:45, I was on I-57 in Missouri, and it was time for another fill-up. It was time for lunch, too, but the McDonald’s was too busy for my liking. I crossed the mighty Mississippi into Illinois and stopped at a McDonald’s in Marion; that too was too busy for my liking. I ended up using the drive-thru window at a Hardee’s restaurant a couple of exits north of Marion. As I ate, I was accompanied by the voice of Tony Snow, filling in on the Rush Limbaugh program. The “Tony Snow” show became the Charles Jaco show (he used to work for CNN), and I motored on down I-57 and I-70.

Shortly after 5, I was on the west side of Indianapolis. I got gas, and I prepared to brave its rush hour. Fortunately, I had little difficulty with traffic. Before long, I was on I-69, heading towards Fort Wayne and Michigan. I was feeling pretty good, so I decided I was going to press onward. Perhaps I would make it home that evening. Back in 1999, I had stopped in Fort Wayne for the night, but I wouldn’t tonight. To shorten my drive, I took US 24 between Fort Wayne and Toledo. It may have been shorter in miles, but it was not a freeway, so it wasn’t shorter in time. By this time, I could hear WJR clearly, so I was listening to the David Newman show as I drove towards Toledo. I was tired, but I wasn’t nodding off. If I had, I would certainly have stopped for the night. In Toledo, I noticed that the construction that had affected my outbound trip was complete; all northbound and southbound lanes of I-75 were open. And if they weren’t, I doubt I would have had that much traffic at 10:30 PM or so.

At last, I reached Michigan. The clock said 11 PM Eastern Time (10 PM by my internal clock). Only 45 more miles to go until I reached home. It was dark, but the weather was good; I was on the home stretch. The rest of the drive was uneventful; by 11:40, I was on I-275 getting ready to turn off onto Ford Road. Gas prices had come down dramatically while I was away; I saw it being offered for $1.39. By 11:47, I was in my driveway. I had made it home in two days. I remember my dad driving from Texas to Detroit in a little over 24 hours non-stop, save for fill-ups and meals; I’m not sure I’d want to do that.

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Tuesday July 3

Nothing to report; my trip was over, and I was home. In two days, I would be back to work.

THE END

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Written by Roger Reini
Revised April 19, 2008

Travelogue: Texas June 2001

By Roger W. Reini

Travelogue: Texas
June 2001