Thursday, September 20, 2007

Job Hunting Part Two: In Houston

Goblin Valley had been translated and moved somewhere above the outskirts of Houston. At least, that’s what it looked like to me: tall, skinny, billowy celestial white crags, radiating with a fiery glow.

The job hunt took me to Houston again. I was relieved of having to navigate my way around on my own. The company provided all transportation that was needed to get from points A, H, and C and back to A.

The interview was like a five course meal and went really well.

With this trip there were not any delays, or extra miles to travel, or hoops to jump through, it was like a well executed military drill, without the military unpleasantries. The biggest glitch was the four hour wait in the airport for my return trip. People should never get a chance to become that intimate with any airport. Airports should be like a fast food experience, and you should always be able to have it your way, but alas, that is not how life [or this part of life] was meant to be.

Upon my arrival to Lubbock, the sun was getting ready for bed. The sky was ablaze, God was stoking the furnace. How can the sun go to bed so quickly right after such a climatic moment? That’s like going to bed just when the last Horcrux has been destroyed. There needs to be a moment for the endorphins to slow down and return to normal levels. There needs to be a moment to sort things out.

But I digress. If you had to choose between Lubbock, Houston, or Lincoln, which would it be? If you answer the question, you must also give at least one reason why.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Job Hunting In Lincoln: Part 1

And then the alarm went off when the chickens were still asleep. Hastily dressing, I finished getting ready for my trip. Somewhat bright-eyed and bushytailed, my friend arrived to return the favor [a trip to the airport]. This was my first time flying “stand-by” and I was not sure what to expect. When you begin your journey before 6:00am, stand-by must not be much of an issue. There were at least eight empty seats on one of those 2x1 seating arrangement planes…just a tad bigger than a Cessna.

My first stop was Dallas/Ft Worth and it all seemed smooth sailing…in fact they decided to put me in First Class for the next leg to Omaha. Did I mention it was First Class? There’s a first for everything. I think I could get used to the extra pampering, if only I could get used to being rich…oh yeah, I have to get rich first.

We boarded the plane, they shut the door, and…delay. There was a mechanical problem with the luggage compartment. We sat and waited [I snoozed] for over an hour. But hey, at least I was being delayed in First Class.

I arrived in Omaha, and without backtracking too much, let’s just say that I did not have reservation for a rental car to take me to Lincoln. The only thing available in the entire airport was either a minivan, or an SUV…for the shallow, cheap price of $110 per day, with only a 30 minute late return window. Fortunately a kind car rental lady informed me that a car rental company across town had something more in my price range…the hang-up was getting across town. I had to take a taxi [what a necessary evil in the world…taxi cabs]. Once I got across town, I was hooked up with a nifty little Kia sedan.

Because I had time to kill before I could check into my nightly abode, I decide to take in a couple of sites in Omaha. I went to the Mormon, Winter Quarters Church History Site. It was a wonderful place to be in the middle of an unfamiliar land. The Temple across the street was a beauty to behold as well.

With time passing, so did my stay in Omaha as I headed west, southwest, to Lincoln just an hour away. As I drove, I was amazed at the landscape. It was like God’s solidified version of the ocean. The rolling hills went on and on, of all shapes and sizes.

I checked into my room, rested up a bit, and went to see if I could navigate the town well enough to find the company I would be paying a visit to tomorrow. Lincoln must have been planned by the town drunk or by a pack of tornados…either would have appeared just as haphazard. But don’t get me wrong, Lincoln is a pretty town. I’m sure the locals know all the ins and outs and turns of the town. My persistence paid off and I found my destination and figured out how to snake my way there in fifteen minutes versus half an hour.

More updates to come…