I woke up this morning in the middle of the desert. I was in a hotel amid other hotels and restaurants amid highways and houses and schools and neighborhoods, all in the middle of a desert complete with cactus, yucca, tumbleweed, sand, and big rocks protruding heavenward that I would call mountains if I wasn’t already using that word for the big beautiful snow-covered evergreen masterpieces that you ski down.
I flew here as a consultant to show some people how to implement business intelligence software. It all started in Colleyville. I drove across crowded city highways to the airport, stripped my bags and body down for scanning by x-rays and metal detectors and whatever other hi-tech anti-threat devices they’re using now, checked a bag, hopped on a jet, popped a movie in my laptop, donned my new Bose active noise-canceling headphones (thanks to my family for one amazing birthday present), and plowed through the dark night air. Once on the ground again, I got my bag, rented a brand new 4WD Jeep, and drove to my hotel, dropping by a restaurant for a late dinner. I signed in to the hotel, signed on to their WiFi, checked email, chatted with a few friends on instant messenger, took a hot shower, and went to bed.
I woke up this morning in the middle of the desert. And there are all these people here. In the middle of the desert. And they all act like they know what they’re doing. The more I look around the more I wonder how this all came to be. I really have trouble imagining the first guy and gal driving through here on a horse and carriage, looking around, and saying, “Yep. This is it. Wonder if there’s any water if we dig a deep hole right here…” And then how did everyone else find the place in the middle of the desert where someone found water? And so on until there is fast food, gasoline, banks, hotels, schools, soccer fields, football stadiums, hospitals, politicians, and all this?
The amazing thing to me about traveling—whether it’s West Texas, East Cost, Mexico, Europe, or Africa—is life. Everywhere you go you find it. The people look a little different, talk a little different, eat a little different. But it’s life. Shared life.
In the still of home, it’s so easy for me to believe that my world is the world.
2 comments:
I've always enjoyed that city and others along I-10 through several states. It's a nice drive, and LC is a perfect gas-up, get-out-and-stretch place. The sunsets out that way are awesome.
I can see the original settlers coming from the west (rather than the east), and as they came over that last ridge saw the flatland below which would become LC, and liked it.
Haven't driven out that way in awhile. The last time west on 10 I could have stopped slightly off the beaten path and seen the Marfa Lights (which I've always wanted to see), but didn't. Would like to get back out that way sometime to do so.
hey man, at some time would you post The Rub?
I would totally butcher a weak attempt at it. That was such a solid conversation around y'all's kitchen table last June.
Do you take requests? heh heh
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