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I just wrote out this whole thing and WordPress deleted it. Curses! WordPress, please give me back an hour of my life, or at least let me be as witty as I think I was the first time I wrote those.
The route: Fly to Houston, drive to San Antonio for a night, come back, fly to Atlanta, drive to Birmingham for a night, come back.
I took an overnight trip to Houston in mid-December for a work event.
Upon arrival, I checked in with my rental car company and waited for my per-policy economy car to be pulled up. Suddenly, an agent drove up in a shiny black Tahoe. He got out and walked toward me, and I said, “How much would it take for me to drive away in that?” Five dollars. Done and done. I felt really badly, though. Everything about Houston seems to live up to a bad stereotype in some way, and I was doing it, too.
I don’t particularly care for Houston. It’s inevitable that I would say that after living for any period of time in Austin, and adding Dallas to my repertoire again doesn’t help. When I read “Dressin’ Texan,” Patricia Marx’s March 19 New Yorker feature article, I thought, “Yes! Yes, so true!” Houstonians seem awfully concerned with what Dallas does. On Houston, a Dallas socialite might remark, “What about Houston?” Any city that’s known for political and economic scandal should probably lay lower than Houston does. In a way, I think that Houstonians account for the stereotypical Texas identity, but the rest of Texas almost seems to wish Houston would pipe down.
