7 October 2014
Stepping out of the airport after baggage claim, I'm immediately engulfed by humidity. Of course.
I'd been expecting it. I grew up with it in Florida. I forgot what it was like after a year-plus in Montana.
I'm immediately set upon by cab drivers as I walk to the cabstand. The first driver in line hops to, opens his door, ushers my bags in and asks where I'm going.
I name a hotel. He looks confused. He runs over to the cabstand proper, a shack with a struggling AC unit and confers with the woman inside.
"Sir? Where you going?" a heavily accented voice asks. I describe it, she exchanges words with the driver and soon we're off.
Welcome to Houston, Texas.