"I wonder if I could get away with fixing my hair or checking my teeth," I thought when I saw the suburban cowboy at the payphone in Bush International Airport, his manhole-sized belt buckle reflecting the surroundings.

I decided against it. "Must be discreet. Must get used to this place again. Must find my gate and wait to get home," I chided myself.

I managed to do all of that. I have a lot to write, and finally the time to write it - what a present.

Merry Christmas.