Having just come home from a business trip to Houston, I have come to the conclusion that I would never survive living there. While I am a city girl and prefer being around the people and chaos, I have to admit the driving of the Houstonians would be my termination. As my co-worker and I rode in the front seat of a taxi van and I witnessed this driver moving from lane to lane without so much as looking over his shoulder for traffic, I knew my only option to survive this drive to our hotel would be to shut my eyes and start praying. Before I knew it I had clutched so hard onto the seat, when I removed my hands from the bench you could still see the imprints of my hands. Occassionaly I would catch myself pressing my foot all the way into the floor with the hopes it would slow the driver down. To my disappointment, it didn't. If it wasn't going to be the driving that was the death of me, it would certainly be the cost from the airport to the hotel. My eyes grew larger and larger as I kept them on the tabulator and it continued to rise 30 cents every few feet. For once I was thankful I was not paying for this tab. The driver had a limited English vocabulary, so I got a little nervous when we passed what I thought was our exit. He seemed a little offended when I questioned him about passing the exit, but he assured me he knew where he was going, so I sat back in my seat and tried to keep my stomach from getting naseauted. A smile came upon my face as I saw our hotel just a few feet ahead--we had made it to our destination alive. :)
As we got out of the van and entered the hotel, I breathed a sigh of relief and silently thanked God that this meeting was not in New York City.
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I know what you mean. I drove my Mom and Dad down there when my sister in-law was in Miss Petite International Pagent. They are scary ppl. I seen a man push another man along at a red light turning red. I guess he didn't think the other guy was going quick enough.
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