On Saturday, June 2, 2012 7:18:20 AM UTC+8, john b wrote:
I can't open the blinds in a Texas Motel room....I don't even know if I'm in
Texas....I don't know where I am at.

If you have never had a blackout you can't understand, but I have had a
blackout. It's a terrible feeling really, I have tried so hard in my life to
keep this from happening...happening again.

I am laying in a bed, and before my eyes open I know that I do not know
where I am. I think about this.

The bed is soft, I have blankets and covers and pillows - a good sign. I am
not in jail . . . again.

A ceiling can tell you many things....it can tell you if you are home. It
can tell you if you are in a hospital. It can tell you if you are in a motel
or hotel and ceilings can tell you if you are in jail and can even tell you
the quality of the particular environs you find your self.

The ceiling didn't look bad. Definitely not a jail or hospital. Not knowing
where I was I wondered if I could afford it. A fifty dollar hotel n the USA
could cost you four hundred in certain parts of the world.

As I raised my head I confirmed my predicament. I was traveling.

A carry on luggage was there, along with the duffel bags, I was on the road
again. The main problem being , I did not know where I was going.

With a brief facial wash and combing of the hair and I ventured forth.

Picking a direction I lucked out, I found the hotel lobby.

The clerk greeted me with a "Good Morning Mr. Baker." On the one hand a bad
sign, what did I do to make the staff remember me? On the other hand she is
smiling.

We chatted and she spoke of all the people who checked in because their
flight was cancelled and my mind mind clicked into overdrive. I coyly
asked, "And what is the official name of this airport?"

Dallas Fort Worth she tells me.

With a cup of lobby coffee things piece together. I remember a lane change
and then a cancellation and something of a bus ride to the hotel. Not a bad
hotel at that...

I return to my room and am glad to realize that I have most, if not all of
my things. It sure beats the time I woke up in Port-au-Prince and discovered
I had no visa to enter the country...they almost wouldn't let me leave. . .

There is nothing I like better than exiting an airport, especially the first
time in a country, rather exciting and invigorating to look around and say,
"Now, what do I do?" It feels especially good after three martinis, it is my
bad luck that I find airport lounges a delightful place to drink and people
watch. Throw in a couple of delays and I am bagged. Been that way all my
life, nothing I can do about it.

But I regroup and board the shuttle to the airport. My duffel bags contain,
among other things, two sets of snorkel gear, a mailbox and a tackle box
full of shiny, things to start my salt water fishing career.

And in my carry on I've got a CD. "This One's for You, A Tribute to Guy
Clark."

'Glad you recommended it Jeff. It's been one hell of a trip to the store...

john

So I take it you're not coming to HK anytime soon...?