Past The Point of No Return

Well, I did it. I still can't believe I left my home and everyone that I love to travel across the country to go to a school where getting sprayed with guts and heaven knows what else is part of the daily agenda. Good thing it's all for a good cause. Truthfully, Houston is a fun place. It's vast and spacious, and that makes it easy to feel overwhelmed, but I decided to take a step back and catch my breath for a second and I can see why it's such a popular city. It helps that my journey here has been quite fortuitous.

Before I left, I had several arguements with my mother about what I could and could not bring. She said I wouldn't need all my stuff, that anything I'd need could be replaced out there. I didn't want to buy new things. I've spent years driving my room mates to the brink of insanity as I accumulated a vast variety of decor, kitchen appliances, clothing, books, and humorous-yet-useless novelties. I can't help it; I've always wanted to have what I-or anyone else- needed for any reason. I like the idea of being the person people come to when they need something, and being prepared for anything. My vast collection of blankets has more then once saved the day at a ward activity. I provided the ambiance at every dance, and fed countless college students with my random kitchen gizmos. Leaving all that behind was extremely annoying, but because I was flying, I could only take so much with me on the plane.

I spent three days squishing all possible articles of clothes into two suitcases and a duffle bag, and throwing toiletries and jewelry in as afterthought. In the end, I didn't pack an eighth of my wardrobe, but my largest suitcase was full to bursting, so I had to settle for that. I had gone to D.I. and bought the largest suitcase I could find, and as I wheeled it around the store, I was satisfied with it's aerodynam-ability. But only after filling it to brim did we realize that the wheels ran sciwampus, and it was amazingly hard to steer. I will never forget the warmth I felt in my heart as my Dad pushed my suitcase from behind all the way through the airport. Bless his heart. He was convinced that my suitcase weighed more then 50 lbs, and when we went up to weigh it, sure enough, I had managed to pack 64 lbs. of my life into that blasted piece of luggage. I thought for sure I was about to get socked with a huge fee, but the kind man at the scale explained to us that if I were to upgrade to first class, it would save me 60 dollars. Instead of paying $110 for my luggage, I payed $50 and flew first class from Salt Lake City to Pheonix. I couldn't believe my luck. My seat was the first one of the plane, right up next the captain's cabin. I had the whole row to myself, so as the steward passed around drinks and snacks, I was the first to be served. As I sat there sipping my sparkling apple juice with my pinky extended, and wishing I had had the presence of mind to wear a smoking jacket and bubble pipe, I grew excited at the prospect of leaving my home for truly the first time. I felt like it was a good omen.

Living the high life on First Class...

After landing in Pheonix, I found my gate quickly and discovered that it was to be a very full flight. The harrassed- looking agent announced that due to amount of passengers on the plane, carry-ons would be limited, and the rest be placed in the back with the baggage. I volunteered my fat duffle. She gratefully thanked me, but in my mind, I felt like I had gotten the better end of the deal. No lugging that thing on the plane.

My flight to Houston wasn't nearly as comfortable, but I didn't care; We flew right into the sunset and it was breathtaking. The clouds were all piled up beside us and it seemed like we sailing on a sea of marshmellow paste. As we descended into the city, I could see that it went on forever and the lights made it fascinating to look at. It occured to me that this place must be beautiful at Christmas time, with all the extra twinkling lights.

My ex-room mate Alena found me without a hitch, and after struggling for a bit my overlarge suitcase, a kind hispanic man came to our rescue. After he left us, Alena remarked that I was already getting attention from the locals, but I personally think he just didn't see the ring on her left hand. She took me back to her apartment and promptly fed me a full on Thanksgiving feast. No joke. As we all know, Canada celebrates their own Thanksgiving a month earlier. Apparently, a Canadian Elder who is serving her area was really disappointed that he was going to miss an elaborate Thanksgiving that was to be prepared before he was suddenly transferred. Being a Canadian herself, Alena felt sympathetic to this Elder's plight and prepared a complete Thanksgiving meal. There were still leftovers in the fridge when I arrived and I dined on turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, and pies.

For those of you who resent me for my sheer dumb luck, understand that it ended there: It took me a few days before I was able to finally sign the lease to my apartment, and despite the fact that I gave my apartment management a few days notice, I came into my new home only to discover that the fridge wasn't hooked up, and the carpets in the process of being cleaned, (which meant that I couldn't move in), and I needed to order electricity and the internet. It isn't furnished, but luckily for me, Alena had the foresight to equip me with a couple of air mattresses. Since then I have learned that they have run out of keys for the fitness room (the only place on the property with Wifi internet), and they've lost my mail key.

But hey, all is well. This is what I asked for, and if I don't allow my self to think too much, I'll be ready to take this town by storm!...If a hurricane doesn't do it first.