My fiancé knows how to travel. Not only did he get me bumped
to first class on the flight from Denver, our room at the J.W. Marriott in
downtown Houston was upgraded to a roomy suite consisting of a living room,
bedroom, and HUGE bathroom.
The day started at 5:00 a.m. when we checked in at Denver
International Airport. After I regaled the Uber guy with tales of how great
Denver used to be (Stapleton Airport really was so much more convenient… the polite
young driver claimed to have seen old pictures), we learned that because of
some magic status as a frequent traveler, Clyde was reassigned to seat 1A – in first
class. Although I had resigned myself to coach seating, my generous lover
offered to trade with me so I could experience the luxury of breakfast at
40,000 feet.
I felt a little self-conscious sitting in first class with
my Denver Public Library book and ancient iPod with the cheap ear buds that
only work on one side, but I forgot all about it when I was handed a hot towel.
I now dread the flight home where I’ll have to sit back in steerage. I can’t go
back! I can’t!
Clyde has spoiled me. Gone are the days of nickel and dime
road trips where I ate at road side McDonalds and stayed at the interstate
Motel 6.
The room at the J.W. Marriott was so nice we decided we didn’t
really need to see anything in Houston. We’d just hang out in the hotel suite
trying to choose which TV to watch and whether to enjoy the roomy stone-tiled
shower or the deep oval bathtub with a flat square faucet situated, get this,
in the middle instead of at one end. Yep, it doesn’t take a lot to impress me.
With temperatures in the high 60s, we put on our shorts and sun
glasses and headed out. We were the most casually dressed people in sight. Most
Houstonites seem to favor long sleeves and jackets this time of year. I guess
temps in the 60s is chilly for these folks. We also saw a group of guys wearing
heavy down jackets – the kind we wear when it’s 20 degrees or colder. They were
speaking Spanish so we figured they were visiting from South America or
someplace really hot.
Somehow, we ended up in Galveston, an island community 50
miles to the south. We inhaled the salty breeze, dipped our toes in the Gulf of
Mexico, and enjoyed the historic ambiance before heading back to the hotel
where we put on complementary robes and settled in front of the bedroom TV.
I recall long ago when Michael and I were upgraded to a suite with TWO (gasp!) TVs. One of us was at the TV in the bedroom, the other at the TV in the other room. We'd yell back and forth "CHECK CHANNEL 109" "STAR TREK IS ON CHANNEL 125" "THE WEATHER IS ON CHANNEL 142" -- we're easily amused. This, of course, was before we had multiple TVs at home...with nothing to watch.
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