I ended up at Ruby’s diner, an old-fashioned themed diner put smack dab in the middle of a busy airport. It opened up just as I got there. I sat at the bar for some early 6am breakfast. There was a Sephora vending machine that I could see clearly across from Ruby’s diner just to the right. I’d never seen something like this before. A vending machine that takes your credit card just incase you were strolling through the airport and needed a new bottle of Chanel No. 5? To me this sounded crazy, but then I began to think how Mandy might see this as something that she might call, “wicked-awesome.” (of course she has the same vocabulary as me, why not?)

Across from me sat an older gentleman who drank two glasses of white wine during my short-lived breakfast of uncooked scrambled eggs and over cooked bacon. Obviously he had to be an international man of mystery if he was having wine for breakfast. To my right sat a young man in a military uniform. Between both of us sat a business man type who ignored the time of day and drank a vanilla milkshake with his legs up on the bar stool closest to me.

I watched the local Houston news while I ate. 6 states. 54 tornado reports. 11 dead in one state, one more found dead in another. The headlines ran along the bottom of the screen. A man stole thousands from students who were fundraising at their local high school. Many people were robbed and killed in addition to that headline. A few more were on trial.

My informative session on current Southern US news continued at my gate. I’d never watched so much CNN or local ABC channel news in my life. I was getting ready to board my flight to Guatemala City and absorbing ads for every CNN political show that they had. Nancy Grace commercials were being played over and over again. Apparently, this angry blonde woman is fun to watch because she uses the words “demand” and “justice” very frequently.

I get on the plane. Seat 19A, window again (score), Houston to Guatemala City, no one sat in the middle seat, a gentleman on the end, and two pastors behind me who spoke loud enough for me to hear their conversation. I tired to piece together why there were several pastors on my flight. All of them were in khakis and simple polos that were neatly tucked in. They looked like happy 12 year olds who were way too excited about being on a plane.

The man who sat behind me and to the right said that he grew up in East Texas. He had been working on a series of sermons focused on following your dreams. The pastor he is talking to, which I should mention they had never met each other before that flight, shares that he too is working on a series of sermons focused on a certain section of the bible. The pastor from East Texas eventually talked about how he ended up with the church. He said he could of gotten a big degree and had a high paying job, “you know?” he says. But against what others told him, he describes how he knew that wasn’t right for him.

I listened some more. Dreams of teaching at the academy, a family member is currently on bed rest, and other tidbits of casual conversation. These guys must of been on some big group trip to Guatemala from a bunch of different churches in the south. I fell asleep soon after take off. I think of how much that breakfast sucked (sorry for using that word, mom). I woke up when we landed with a Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwich next to me and the gentleman on my right standing up to exit the plane. Laughing, the pastor from East Texas said to the other pastor, “Wow, I never let him talk the entire flight!”

Part Three of my trip to Guatemala will be posted over the next week.