One journalist's musings about the beautiful, bizarre world in which we live
I am in Ontario, once more.
My flight from Guatemala was interesting, to say the least. I flew from Guatemala to Houston Sept. 2, and had to take the flight from Houston to Toronto Sept. 3.
The Houston airport has become one of my least favourite places on earth. It’s only redeeming quality is the little train that shuttles between the FIVE small terminals and its Marriott Hotel. Might I add that the only food available outside of security after 7 p.m. are Chili’s sodium-ridden chicken caesar wraps and Starbucks coffee?
After a night spent sleeping in a massage chair listening to remixes of 80s and 90s classics – my personal fave being the Glee cast’s a cappella smash hit “Don’t Stop Believing” – my rest left something to be desired. Meaning I slept through check-in.
Forty minutes before my flight was set to take-off, I stood in the check-in line with three other unfortunate souls who had missed the check-in time.
Talking to the counter attendant a bit later, after the flight had taken off without me, he said had the three other people not been there, I might have been able to squeeze in through security. Lovely.
About four hours and a terrible bean-and-egg breakfast later, I was on my plane headed home. It was difficult not breaking into the Spanish “Gracias” when handed my little cup of tea.
* * *
Now I’m in Barrie. Toronto. On the way to Ottawa. I’m amazed by the expansive spaces without people. I’m shivering at the cold. It’s not the temperature; it’s actually quite warm right now. It’s the threat of cold that seems to linger in the air, an inescapable feeling that has come to define Canada in my mind. The trees prepare for long winter, shedding their leaves. The bugs don’t grow to overly-ambitious sizes, knowing the cold weather will kill them off anyway. Every once in a while, a breeze flies past me, reminding me that Arctic airs are on their way.
I’m not going to stick around too much for their arrival.
Bolivia. Argentina. I’m working my way there.
Screw winter. I want summer again.