Damn the fog, appreciate the drink

My father apologized for the situation we have found ourselves in. I told him it was all part of the adventure.

"Yeah, I guess that's one way of looking at it," he said. "But I'm pissed off."

Jeremy and I are stuck in Euless, Texas. Tomorrow morning, weather permitting, we will continue on to Oklahoma City.

We're holed up in a La Quinta hotel that we received for $50 of our own money. I guess the bad weather isn't the airline's fault. At least they gave us the "Distressed Passenger" rate.


I slept for about two hours last night and then Jeremy arrived around 4:45 a.m. We were off to Dixie's when I realized I forgot the itinerary. Soon I had my shit together and we made it to John Wayne airport courtesy of Dixie and Rodger.


Check in and security proved easy to pass through, then we grabbed a stool at the Oasis bar. The conversation flowed and the old Republican across the bar read a "Civil War Times" magazine. We envisioned him in a Confederate's uniform jamming shot down the barrel of a musket. Screwdrivers and Bloody Mary's were lined along the half-moon bar. At that moment everyone was on the same page. By 7:30 a.m. we were two beers and a snort of Jager in. Times were swell – then we arrived in Dallas, Texas.


My belly rumbled and my head ached, and I guess Jeremy almost used the complementary puke bag on the plane. Are we getting old? Nah, we just started the party on empty stomachs. Mmm...sweet denial.


We ate some food, I drank some coffee, we dealt with a last minute gate change and we observed the frenzied crowd of travelers zipping in all directions. Many of them wore military uniforms.

After being seated for nearly 30 minutes on our plane destined for Oklahoma City, the captain took hold of the mic and broke the news. Our flight had been canceled.

Shit.



So now we're in this hotel. Jeremy is passing out and I'm staring at this screen while listening to Bob Dylan. We're forced to sleep in our clothes because our luggage is in the belly of some plane. Maybe we'll find it when we arrive.


We ate at a Denny's after catching a little shut eye. My headache subsided and I felt good once again. After eating we walked about half a mile down the highway to a bar called The Den. "The Other Band" was playing and the guitar player, Robert D. Peirce, entertained us with blues, country and conversation. He smoked cigarettes and drank O'Douls.


Now I need to wash a little travel stink off.

We'll see what happens tomorrow.