DFW
“Oh my God! I don’t fit in here!”

Usually, I feel comfortable in any city, on any continent: even those continents where it is quite obvious that I am not a member of that particular society. However, as a good friend once made the argument, Texas is a republic, so maybe it is another country….
Well, I got off the plane and headed outside to wait for R wearing Teva flip-flops, jeans, and a fitted t-shirt type tank. I know that I would feel right at home in either SoCal or Virginia Beach. But apparently not here. As I hung up my phone and came a bit out of my daze, I noticed an enormous red pick-up stopping for a woman a few feet from me. She was dressed to the nines, high heels, big hair, lots of jewelry, very, very flashy, and she was picking up her luggage to get into the red truck. I don’t know; this just somehow made me feel completely underdressed and out of place as “Oh my God! I don’t fit in here!” ran through my head. I don’t know if I’ll ever wear cowboy boots, but I’ll wear sandals 365 days a year if the weather permits.