Last stop before Guatemala City

After the laughs I had at Wellington the rest of my trip to Houston was rather ordinary with an uneventful flight to Auckland where I wandered for a few hours. 

Similarly the 13 hour haul from Auckland to Houston went without a hitch and I managed to get a few hours kip along the way. I enjoyed an excellent Australian doco.  called The Last Child about the last of the “stolen children” plus a lively lighthearted movie about a young woman hired to get an introverted son out of his shell. 

I had been dreading my arrival at Houston as the last time I transited I was led to an interview room and grilled about my visit to Iran a few years prior. I needn’t have worried as I breezed through immigration and baggage control and was soon navigating the underground subway to my shuttle pick up point.  No one cared about my bag which was quite different to previous  arrivals in the US. 

Checked in and before the massive bed beckoned I wandered off for dinner. My hotel was just on the border or the airport precinct with another group of hotels. No restaurant at my hotel so I wandered off to the Marriot for dinner (it was only 5pm). Trying to be a good girl I ordered a salad forgetting that this country doesnt do anything by halves. My huge caesar salad with chicken was merely a pile of chopped iceberg lettuce, sprinkled with grated parmesan and a few croutons on the side. The ‘chicken’ was partly cold and partly warm and definitely doubtful but I’m still alive so it can’t have been too doctored.  On the plus side my Heineken went down a treat. 

My room, a bit like my bed and my meal, massive and perfectly fine except for an awfully loud aircon that turned on randomly when it wanted to. Until, that it, I figured with the help of the guy at reception that I just needed to set it to HIGH and it would stop. Of course, how silly of me. 

I fell asleep watching telly about 9:00pm and woke at 9:52pm. That was it!  Until after 4:00am. Just in time for the alarm to go off at 6:00am. Darn. 

So here I am on a United Airlines flight ready to depart for Guatemala City. My stay at Houston’s George Bush airport was largely spent looking for coffee. I refuse to drink perc’ed coffee and otherwise I had two options for a long black. One didn’t do coffee on Saturday’s and the other was Starbucks. Well thats not happening either. 

A coke was the closest to caffeine I could get. Sitting enjoying the rush I watched the crowds who were largely boring except for the lady juggling a pushchair. A single pushchair. A single pushchair with two kids. The bigger one in the seat and underneath in the shopping bit was another kid curled into a ball will feet flaying everywhere. Thats a new one. 

It was interesting to see the abbreviated names of passengers who were either on standby or upgraded on the screen for everyone to see. 

Boarding this flight was not what I am used to. No one checked my passport or boarding pass as I got on board. Not surprisingly there was a woman who had sat herself onto this flight to Guatemala when her ticket and boarding pass were for somewhere else. 

Seated next to a wee girl we struck up a conversation in Spanish. Most of what she said I did not understand but her Mum told me her name was Bianca and both gasped with delight when I showed them photos of both my Biancas. 

Sadly they were some of many who had misprinted booarding passes and so were in the wrong seats. They were moved out and replaced by two guys one of which is hell bent on not sharing the arm rest.  I must say this has been the most chaotic boarding I’ve ever had, and I always thought it was crazy in the middle east. 

My journey has begun.