I was dropped off at SFO around noon PST on Friday, and entered my hotel room in Houston eleven hours later. It was raining on California’s Central Coast, for probably the second time this year, and rain on roads after long dry spells often leads vehicles along unexpected vectors. Anticipating multiple slowdowns, my husband and I allowed plenty of time for the trip, and we were already halfway there when I got the text saying my departure was delayed one hour.

Though it was raining, don’t picture a deluge. It was raining in a desultory fashion, intermittently skeptical and emphatic, but never pelting. So I assumed the delay only affected my particular flight chain.

Assuming is usually wrong. Multiple flights were delayed or canceled due to weather, including the very weather above us. The line for gate agents was carefully culled to admit only folks rebooking due to cancellations or missed connections, yet it was not short. I managed to snag a seat on the Last Flight To Houston, and moved on to security.

Happily I had TSA Precheck, but for the first time I was randomly selected for a pat-down, that is, placed in a holding area to await a female authorized to fondle my genitals, briefly, through clothing. Does that make sense in this gender-indefinite age?

I had a lot of time in the airport so I checked out some of the amenities.

Quirky Art:

Fuzzy picture of Understandable Sign:

Clear picture of Mystery Sign:

Peek into the Animal Relief area, which was empty. I imagined a line of emotional support animals outside, including pigs both potbellied and guinea:

A welcoming, friendly room:

I enjoy yoga, so I went in to take a snap. This room was occupied by one man, not in yoga garb, his back facing me, preoccupied with something I could not easily see but was wary to photograph.

I will spare you the tiresome details of the various insults of interrupted travel on major airlines. No weather at all was visible once we were aloft, just spiky, snow-covered mountains, red buttes scattered amid blue lakes, and the endless, brilliantly lit, flat cities of Texas, unfettered by geographic features. Plus a sensational sight no cell phone camera can capture: the Moon Illusion from 30,000 feet.