I see you've got your list out, well say your piece and get out

I learned quite a sad thing during my trip to see my family last week. I no longer consider myself a Houstonian. Why, you might ask? 

1. I do not know where anything is. I used my GPS waaaay too much to delude myself into thinking I still know where stuff in the city I grew up in is. Example: I had to use the GPS to get from my parents' house to my sister's house. Sure, I've been there before, a few times, but did I know how to get there? Not a freaking clue. I must thank my sister, however, for being the best directions-giver EVER. I must not thank my mother for being the worst directions-giver ever. I heard this multiple times while driving "I just don't know... it's so different because I'm not driving...." Seriously? Being two feet left of behind the wheel makes so much of a difference that you suddenly don't know where you're going?

2. I can't drive in Houston anymore. I remember my driver's ed course, and The Husband is always astounded when I tell him the story of my first highway driving experience on 45. Granted, he probably learned to drive on dirt roads and one lane gravel drives (okay, I'm kidding but country highway is tons different from city highway). Anyway, I have learned to drive *gasp!* the speed limit. I had to remind myself of the fact that everyone in Houston drives at least 5 miles over, and that darting in and out of lanes of traffic without so much as an indication as to which way you're turning is acceptable. And in addition to the "directions" given by my mother sitting shotgun were sound effects in the form of sharp inhales, hand to the chest, wincing, eye closing, seat belt grabbing, and "watch out!"s. Let's not forget the "praise" given by my father that I can, in fact, cross from the right-most lane of a highway to the left-most for an exit.

3. Fuck the humidity. I don't think I need to explain it, but I will. I can't handle it anymore. I get zapped just walking out the door, like I walked through a waterfall of slime and it's all over my skin. I gave up on my hair - I just walked around like a fuzzball. Seriously - fuck the humidity.

And now for my tirade against Hobby Airport crossing guards at the Arrivals Pick Up Terminal:

You suck. You suck suck suck suck suck and have absolutely no purpose on this planet other than to wave your arm in one direction. THE STREET IS ONE WAY. I KNOW WHICH DIRECTION TO GO. If you're not waving your arm in one direction you put your hand up for me to stop. BECAUSE IF YOU DIDN'T I WOULDN'T SEE THE MASS OF PEOPLE CROSSING RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND I WOULD RUN THEM OVER. You stop me and ask me to roll down my window to ask me if I need help because I've been circling for half an hour. IF YOU WOULD LET ME STOP AND PARK AND WAIT FOR THE PEOPLE I NEED TO PICK UP (AND THEIR FLIGHT WAS LATE) THEN I WOULDN'T BE CIRCLING FOR HALF AN HOUR. 

And I had to pee.