It all seemed so simple. Sherry and I flew to Europe and back about a month ago without a single hitch. So, what could be easier than flying to Chicago for a speech? Up one day and back the next. Little did I know how hairy carriage by plane and taxi could get.

The flight was “direct,” by way of Houston and Birmingham. As scheduled, it left at 1:30 P.M., and all seemed to be going well. As we approached Houston, though, the pilot came over the intercom. “We’ve been informed that Hobby Airport has been closed due to thunderstorms (result of hurricane Dennis, tls). We’ve been circling a while and because we are running low on fuel, we’re go back to San Antonio for refueling.”

We spent about thirty minutes on the ground before starting over. The second try, the airport was open. After boarding passengers, we finally headed for Birmingham. Feeling a bit better about the situation, I wrapped my travel pillow around my neck, settled back in the seat and was out like a light.

When the announcement was made concerning our approach to Birmingham, I opened my eyes to find that the ladies across the isle, along with a flight attendant, were looking at me. I wondered if I was drooling. One of the ladies said, “We’ve been talking about you. Aren’t you going to Chicago?” When I said yes, the flight attendant said, “I’m sorry, but we just got word this plane is going back to San Antonio. We’ll have to put you on a flight to Louisville, then Chicago.”

Great! Things were not looking good. As if not discouraging enough, one of the ladies in the group pulled out a road map, unfolded it and began to search rather intently for someplace. Made me wonder if she was our navigator.

When I finally arrived in Chicago at 11:00 P.M., I felt like the hippie the guy found in his closet. When asked what he was doing in there, he replied, “Like, man, you gotta be somewhere.” I was glad to finally be somewhere, and especially glad that “somewhere” was where I was supposed to be. The only problem was the hotel and meeting place were still an hour away.

Fortunately, the only luggage I had was carry-on. I didn’t have to find anything but a cab. No problem. For a mere $122 he could get me there. Late night, unfamiliar setting. Options were rather limited. Off we went.

After about an hour, and at midnight, I suddenly felt the cab go across the shoulder grid that’s designed to awaken a driver. A few minutes later, the cabbie pulled over to the shoulder and we came to a stop. “You don’t mind if I take a few minutes for a nap, do you?” You’ve got to be kidding, I thought. I decided to get out of the back seat, into the front, and TALK to the driver to keep him awake. It seemed like the least I could do for my bargain fare.

Though it’s far too late to make a long story short, summary of the return flight is that once again Houston storms caused problems. My flight arrived in San Antonio at 2 A.M. instead of 10:45 P.M.

I absolutely love to speak, and generally like traveling. I jokingly commented to Sherry, though, that the glamour had worn off speaking just a tad. It was settling to get back behind the barber chair.

BARBER-OSOPHY: Though the grass may be greener on the other side of the fence, it still has to be cut.

Copyright 2005, Sumerlin Enterprises. Permission is granted to reprint this article as long as a link to www.barber-osophy.com is included.