Getting to the Train

Apparently, any train trip from Houston starts with a plane.

Ours did.

We flew from Houston's Hobby Airport (HOU) to Chicago O'Hare (ORD) on American Airlines.

We changed planes in Dallas, of course. I have a horror story about changing planes, but that's a different trip.

A basic rule of travel is to take snacks with you.

I see young travelers with trail mix or fruit and nuts. For goodness sake! You're on a trip. You WILL eat badly. Take candy bars.

We travel light and carry our bags on the plane. For a nineteen day trip, we each had one suitcase and a shoulder bag.

Yeah, we're awesome packers. We still packed too much.

Due to TSA rules for liquids, we now use clear toiletry bags. No more rummaging for something. We just turn the bag and look. Fabulous.

I checked in for our flight the night before. While I did this, the web site told me to pick my seats, and I wanted Darling and I to sit together.

Those cost me extra money, about $38 a seat. What? Am I buying the airplane chair?

Maybe. The new seats on airplanes are tiny. I'm not a little guy, but the seats are shrinking. It's in the news.

They don't feed you, either. Pretzels don't count. I guess they're trying to slim you down to fit in your seat.

This is a lawn chair, right?

I have a technique for flying that usually works. It's called passing out. I'll take a cold tablet before I fly. Once we're on the plane and in the air (take-offs are miserable, aren't they?), I fall asleep.

My head bounces around like I'm a bobble-head, and I probably drool a little. I don't care.

Sure I wake up when the flight attendant bumps past me (little seats, remember). I don't wake up enough to be conscious.

I wake up for the drinks because it's important to stay hydrated when traveling. Then I doze off until we land.

Let's face it, if we were supposed to fly, we would have been born with wings.


.