Contemplating Rita

This is what the ocean looks like at Key West on most non-hurricane days.

As Hurricane Rita advances, I pray that she somehow manages to avoid New Orleans and the surrounding area. Though I cannot help thinking that those places will, at the very least, get some very unwelcome rain. And I also pray that the storm will not continue to strengthen, and that if it hits Galveston, as projected, my pal Dolores will remain safe.

Actually, I hope she has already gotten the heck out of Dodge.

I was talking about her today. Dolores, that is, not Rita. Or maybe both, a little, now that I think about it. Anyway, back in 1996, I drove down to Texas to do a Dallas-Huntsville-Galveston swing that also included a visit to College Station, home of Texas A&M University. (Go, Aggies!) Spent a few days with Tee-Hee and then drove on down to Huntsville to stay with Dolores and David.

Dolores drove us to Galveston one of those days. Before we left her house, she told me I HAD to wear flip-flops (which I refer to as “thongs”) instead of my tennis shoes, which I wear ALL the time (she also insisted on painting my toenails). When we got there, she parked my car at her friend’s house, where we grabbed a couple of bikes to go riding down along the boardwalk. Dolores rode a comfy mountain-style bike but made me ride a racing bike: thin tires, curly handlebars and one of those narrow, uncomfortable seats that pokes right up your butt-crack (sorry, but it’s true!). WHILE wearing thongs (the on-your-feet kinda thongs ... not the right-up-your-butt-crack kinda thongs ... thank GOD!). With Dolores telling me, throughout the ride, to quit whining!

We rode all around Galveston, stopping for oyster po’ boy sandwiches at one little place, dropping in for more beers at another. We took a ferry from _______ to _______ (wish I could remember the names of the places, but I don’t), and then drank some more beers. Bought ourselves plastic collapsible knives and then freaked out our waittress by pretending to shove the blades up our noses and through our ears.

It was a fun day ... in spite of my sore arms, back, feet and butt-crack.

On the way back, Dolores and I switched bikes.

“God! That bike is horrible!” she said. “How did you ever ride that?”

: )