Thanks for the warm welcome to your lovely city. Y’all are so friendly that even the teenagers are talking to me. One asked me to weigh in on the purse she was picking out for her mother. Such confidence in a complete stranger! I hope I didn’t steer her wrong. (This is a pun. It was a very western looking purse.) Some of my other favorite things:
1. The museums are fabulous. I’ve spent days at the Natural Science, Fine Art, and the Houston Space Center. I still haven’t seen the American Cowboy Museum, the Bayou Bend Collection and Gardens, or the Beer Can house, which may take us all day. For some reason, beer tastes better here. Maybe it’s the patio life. People really like to sit outside, and with all the beautiful flowers and trees, it’s easy to see why. I’m not sure how they talk themselves into going home.
2. People dress casually, like in Vegas, but without the constant gambling and scent of desperation that leaves me feeling anxious. At any given time there, I’m the least fun person in the room. I like myself better here.
3. The airport. The friendliness goes up a notch, and in Houston, that’s saying something. I don’t think we’ve ever been called baby, before. Certainly not by airport security. I have to confess, I was expecting pat downs, dire warnings and some frank political talk. Perhaps a stern warning about behaving myself. Nope. Just sheer friendliness.
4. There are a lot of good looking men here. Like, seriously good looking. It’s hard not to stare. Even in Whole Foods, where I was this afternoon, the hot guys completely outnumbered the balding hippies (and I say this with no disrespect to balding men, one of whom I love.) I’m surprised I didn’t faint at the Rodeo, the other night. All I could think was, Yeehaw!
5. The weather. It’s the rainy season, but even so, the temperature feels warm to someone from Canada. My only discomfort happens inside the buildings. The museums aren’t too bad but the restaurants are freezing. The maxed out air conditioning causes the reptilian part of my brain to assume I’m in danger. Which sane Canadian allows themselves to get this cold? None of us. I spend a lot of time calming myself down. No, I say firmly, you are not going to freeze to death. My daughter has been converted to the Houston way of life, and really likes it cold. I wear fur slippers and my warmest pajamas at her apartment.
6. The Rodeo. So fun, and please don’t tell my friends at P.E.T.A because I especially loved the Bronc Busting. The horses win way more than the cowboys do. And I loved my giant drink, in spite of being a little embarrassed to be seen with it. It was like wearing a huge sign saying, I AM AN ALCOHOLIC.
7. I haven’t seen a single gun. It’s true that I’m not very observant, and I confess I was a little petrified coming here. But the people are just regular folks, going about their business, a little friendlier than the rest of the world. If I lived in Houston, my chances of seeing guns would go up. But as a visitor, I have to say, well done. Keep hiding those holsters. Your tourists thank you for it.
8. The food is incredible. I didn’t know barbeque could be so good, and in spite of my gall bladder begging for a break from all the fat, I simply can’t resist. I’ll be good again when I go home. The drinks are also fantastic, though I’ve seen aquariums smaller than these marguerita glasses.
9. The bats down by the Bayou. Every evening they fly out from under a bridge and glide up into the sky. Even more startling are the hawks that swoop down to eat the bats. It’s like gladiators at the coliseum in Rome. You can’t look away, even if you want to. The bats are not interested in people, so I like them.
10. My daughter’s work place. She has a corner office with a beautiful view. I feel like Don Draper in there, waiting for my secretary to bring me some scotch. Disappointingly, they don’t seem to drink at work, and the way she hustled us out of there made me realize that, like parents everywhere, we’re continuing the fine tradition of embarrassing our children.
I’m sure there is much more to see. Meanwhile, our 30 oz. steak dinner and fish bowl drink are waiting. Thank goodness my daughter doesn’t own a scale.