A soggy greeting from Hope

I recently started a new job that has better pay and less stress with more interesting work than the old slog. Not bad, huh? I'm pleased as punch about it. After 18 months hard time in a supermax facility, aka working in an overstretched I.T. department for a fortune 300 financial institution, it's gratifying to know there is reasonable work available. This is my third week and I'm on my second business trip. Last week I was in California. Yay, right? Not bad. I had a lot of work to do and not a lot of time for sight seeing. No beach combing. This week I'm in the birthplace of Bill Clinton and Mike Huckabee. Hope, Arkansas has a Walmart, a restaurant called Dos Locos Gringos, and a Western Sizzlin franchise. Hope is a small town with not much to offer, its main export being politicians that are able to hit national standing and high end speakers.

My flight into Little Rock was entertaining. While squeezing into his dwarfed seat on the tiny plane an enormous old German traveler confused me for his proctologist and shoved his ass in my face. It was the kind of experience I could only imagine would happen at a thirty year reunion of dancers from the Unicorn. Flabby ass cheeks draped with loud gold, blue, and brown checkered pants hit me square in the face. Awful. I was later informed that the airline lost his luggage. Karma's a bitch I guess. Also on the plane was a god squad in wool suits and bibles. They looked like a bunch of fresh faced MBAs looking for a job or a sales team getting ready for the next pitch. The Little Rock airport is small and brightly colored. Red support pillars shoot up to the vaulted ceiling. On the way to baggage claim a sign welcomed all and sundry to Arkansas. Another sign welcomed the World Series of S.W.A.T. which is being held in Little Rock April 9 - 12. I hear tickets are still available if you're interested.

It takes a little less than two hours to drive to Hope from Little Rock. After a quick meal at a lovely bar/sandwich shop/restaurant we hit the road in the rental car. That's when the heavens opened up. Sheets of rain so thick I could hardly see the road in places. And while the hail wasn't constant it was large and in charge. My boss half believed that the windshield was about to crack at any moment. It was rough. Strangely enough though the satellite radio never gave out. Equally strange were the three distinct moments no longer than two seconds a piece when the rain simply stopped. It was as if I had driven underneath a small, invisible canopy. Completely bizarre. The rain stopped and lulled us into a false sense of confidence only to start up again with renewed vigor. I got off the road two hours ago and the thunder continues. It's a lovely sound.