Mount Cristo del Rey, one landmark pilgrimage, two states, two countries. As seen from the interstate, flying by towards work one morning last weekend.
Software: CameraBag App.
Mars in Retrograde:
I checked, the website, looked like my flight was on time, and we journeyed cross-town, me and my hosts, all the way to the airport. Dropped me off in front of the baggage check, all usual enough.
The flight, my flight, was on time, until about an hour before.
“What time does the 6:30 flight leave?” I joked.
Baggage handler checked my ID, looked at my ticket, looked at me, “8:30.”
“Weather delays out of San Diego.”
The relative short trip across El Paso, hardly a cross-town commute of epic proportions, we were amicably discussing the meaning of the Mars’ transits and relative positions, and its symbolism.
I asked again, as I can read arrival and departure schedules, and my flight number was arriving, on time from Houston and should, therefore, be leaving on time, but apparently not.
I looked up from a book I was reading, and I noticed, the flight that was scheduled after me, but actually leaving before? Phoenix. There’s a reason I’m so at home here, there. El Paso is around a halfway between two good points, anchors in my life, the Phoenix area, 7 years of education there, and my home along the Interstate 35 line in Texas. Dallas/Ft. Worth to Austin, south to San Antonio. El Paso marks a halfway point. To me, the best, or the most, of both worlds.
I’ve gotten very fond of the area, almost a second home to me. The land is dusty, yellow, that desert ochre, whereas the people are warm and inviting, spicy like the cuisine.