And this is why:
I was stoked when I crossed the state line, because Texas actually put their "Welcome to Texas" sign in a convenient place for travelers to take their photo next to it. So, Amara and I got out of the car and walked over to the sign to take a few shots, where, lo and behold, a swarm of mosquitoes attacks me. I have welts all over my arms now, and I look like I have some sort of ridiculous skin disease. On top of that, we got a fellow traveler (someone who was actually from Texas?) to take our photo next to their giant lonestar sculpture, and I proceeded to leave my camera and keys outside when I went to the bathroom. Luckily, the lady who took our picture was still out there, and one of her kids brought them back to me. Texas officially made my IQ go down by about ten points. All I had to do was cross the state line.
The next big city we came to was Houston, and it was BEAUTIFUL from a distance. I asked Amara if she would like to stop and walk around in the city for a while, to which she gave a positive reply. We got off on the next closest exit, and ended up getting LOST. Crazy lost. I called Austin to ask him if there was anything interesting that we should try to visit, and he mentioned a few things -- the Holocaust Museum really struck our fancy, though, so we decided on that. It was pretty neat to see the actual books, clothes, suitcases, and things from people who were really there. We picked up some DVDs and a few other bits and pieces of information, and were on our way. Unfortunately, I got lost again, while we were on our way to Jack in the Box for some lunch. When we finally got to the restaurant, someone almost backed into my car, so I had to honk like crazy, an action upon which we decided to head back to I-10 and find another place to eat.
From Houston to San Antonio, we didn't do much. We drove, and stopped for gas and food at an authentic Mexican restaurant (Omar's, right outside of San Antonio), dropped in the local Target to pick up some snacks and water, and headed toward the city.
San Antonio was absolutely gorgeous. The riverwalk is beautiful, and I can totally understand why people spend tons of money to visit. Unfortunately, our experience in the city wasn't as romanticized as the city itself is, though. Apparently there was a football game going on at the Alamodome, and right about the time we were driving through, everyone was leaving. Lots of drunk people. I had police telling me where to go, which was confusing in itself, because it was the complete opposite way from where my TomTom wanted me to drive. I ended up on a 4-lane road in downtown San Antonio, going about 30 miles an hour. For what seemed like no reason, a Montero Sport merged over into my lane, practically on top of my car. Come to find out, there was a white pickup truck just sitting in the middle of the helft lane with it's hazards on. Everyone in front of me maneuvered their cars around this truck, and as I was slowly passing by, a woman ran out in front of my car. I slammed on my brakes and skidded into her. She kind of jumped up on the hood of my car, and then she punched it. She punched the 'stang! What the hell?! Anyway, she yelled something obscene at me, and I just ignored her and drove on.
After that little incident, Amara and I decided not to stay in San Antonio, and we kept driving. We ended up here, in Segovia, at an Econo Lodge right off of the freeway.
Moral of the story?
Texas hates me.
It's pretty much official.
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