I’m at the terminal, waiting for the flight to San Antonio, and I hear a guy with a purple shirt, cowboy boots, and a Texas accent talking into his Bluetooth headset (which looks like a piranha is attacking his ear). He says this, which I wrote down, word for word. I should start calling these things airport monologues.

TEXAN
I just sucked down two margaritas and chips and queso and steak fajitas.
Yep, two top-shelf margaritas.
By the way, I don’t like that school, the way it’s set up – her school – the parking – the kids just come out anywhere – there should be a front.
No, nothing against the school, just the parking.
So, I got the first-class upgrade. Basically, free liquor, that’s all I want.
I may not be able to drive when I arrive.
I don’t know if they have free mimosas.
Yeah, chicken-fried steak and cherries soaked in rum.
Nah, if I get home, wake up, and take four aspirins I’ll be fine.
It’s dehydration of the brain caused by consuming too much alcohol.
Wine?
(He seems disturbed by this idea.)
Well, if it’s wine, it’s a different kind of alcohol, you know, I’m not used to it…
Maybe if it’s a Zinfandel.
OK honey. I should go call (XXXXX). I’d love to see you tonight, but maybe rest…
No, you rest up.
Well, if you’re all worn out, I can’t have any fun with you.
No, I’m talking about a different kind of fun.
Yes ma’am.
Rest your back.

(And he hung up.)

I’m out of the whirlwind Los Angeles tour, and in TX with Sari. I have a delayed Dispatches from LAX post to put up, but I’ll just say this: we’re back in San Antonio, we went to Austin, hung out at Antone’s, and we discovered that Texans don’t dance to ska.

I’m on a real vacation. I’m not doing any theater whatsoever. But I did see the run of LOCAL STORY at NOTE on Weds, which was lovely. The old crowd.

I fly to Denver on Thursday, for LYDIA.