FDFW

Made it to Chicago last night from Texas, and it only took about 27 hours. Pretty good, given the distance and all. After all flights from Dallas (and, I think, Houston) to Chicago were canceled on Thursday evening, Los de Chiva found ourselves, with nearly two hundred others, in line for re-routing, in line for shuttles to discounted (not comped) hotels, in lines for rooms, up at 5:30 a.m. to return for more lines, standby, and Houston, no, wait, Atlanta, then Chicago. In all, it was fine. A bit tiring. The things called "scones" at the place called Starbucks at DFW were a little old. But travelers were cool, reasonable. We never fly straight through Dallas anymore, and we have adjusted to this reality.

But we're bothered by the disconnect between the reality of (not) traveling through Dallas and the gloss of in-house magazines like the one in the seatback on the well-worn American Airlines jet: the suggestion, there, of freewheeling, easy, travel, of day trips and time shares and featured destinations seems not just fantastic but frantic, a panicked assurance that everything is fine. It doesn't strike me that anyone should be able to travel as easily as these magazines (and lots else) imply.

Walking around downtown Chicago this morning. A hundred or so people doing yoga--loudspeaker yoga--in the Gehry pavilion at Millennium Park. I accidentally walked into--I mean, like, I bumped my head upon like the country mouse I guess I am--Anish Kapoor's Cloud Gate. I feel the distance from South Texas in many different ways.