My journey

11 June 2003. IAH (Intercontinental Airport of Houston)
The crowd increases and diminishes as a voice indistinctly announces the flight information of the different airlines. I sit complacently in a lounge of people...half-observant, half-alert, seemingly absorbed in a milieu they call 'departure area.' I refuse to be entertained by the nearby idiot boxes strategically located at every nook of this spacious edifice, opting instead to dig for my rosary beads and commencing the day with that very dependent feeling - a desire to build an intimate relationship with someone I owe so much of my life. The clock has just struck eight. With everyone still deeply engrossed doing about their own business, I carefully scan the immediate surroundings for any updates on the flight to Phoenix. Phoenix! I imagine that one place with endless vegetation of cacti, sprouting abundantly in a vast expanse of desert...dry, hot, yet there is something in it that entices the traveler to seek more, explore that countryside made popular by the song "By the Time I get to Phoenix..."
A sophisticated old lady, reminiscent of my maternal grandma, flashes a smile at me and I acknowledge the greeting. We exchange pleasantries, actually more on excavating information about our boarding tickets. I never saw her again after that.
The flight attendants on board seemed very adept at doing their job, intermittently asking each passenger the kind of beverage he wants to be served. Although they are not the kind that I imagined them to be, young and vibrant, friendly and warm, bubbly and classy, their mere presence on the aircraft was enough assurance that we were going to be all right.
Flights like these transport me into another world. My mind begins to wander...from the memories of my first flight at the age of twelve, running like a roll of film, winding, rewinding, and then forwarding to the now and present. There is so much to preoccupy my senses. As it is, when one thirsts for knowledge, there is no stopping to quench that thirst. The irony of it is that I would allow some moments in my life to laze around; just stopping to appreciate the beauty of a tiny flower, the greatness of a majestic mountain, the synchronized flight of a flock of birds, or just observing the lifestyles of the inhabitants of small and big cities. They all mirror life's intricacies: richness, strangeness, dullness, shrewdness and every 'ness' that you could possibly think of.
For all intents and purposes, I got derailed in the 'land of the cacti.' "Weather," quipped the airline agent at the front desk. Trusting my inquisitiveness, I paced the busy hallway in search for something peculiar, for an idiosyncrasy. Not finding one, I settled for something to eat. Yes! I felt hunger gnawing at my belly! I could eat a horse! Nothing could stop me from satisfying my lust for food at that moment. I gulped the last bite of my veggie sandwich in between an animated conversation with a Mexican woman seated across the table. I had a good bout with my Spanish accent, the kind of language I learned for academic as well as communicative purposes in sunny Spain.
The plane screeched to a halt. From the window, the letters read San Francisco International. Amazing to think that time indeed flies fast, faster even than the speed of an airplane.