As the aircraft circled.

As the aircraft circled, circled and Circled through the whole extent of Lubbock, Texas like some kind of a not-so-merry-go-round, the pilot direct the eyeed for even the slightest break in the dense mass cover. But I knew it wasn't happening. Below us loom a giant bag of cotton halls. It may as well have been a titanium dome engulfing the city, because we weren't getting through

Just the same, when the pilot announced we'd have to divert to Abilene to wait disclosed the weather, I groaned in chorus with the exhibition of the passengers.

in what manner many times had I done this in the past 10 years? A hundred? couple hundred? For more than a decade I've worked at Airman magazine in one capacity, first on active excise then in civil service and for the past five years as a reservist.

I pass so much time at the San Antonio International Airport it's like having a downtown apartment.

upon this particular trip, I was headed to Cannon Air Force Base, NM to do a two of stories. I wasn't thrilled about having to be scattered into Lubbock in the first place. It was an hour-and-a-half to two-hour drive from Lubbock to Cannon. My government-contracted travel agency said that it was too expensive to break in pieces directly into Clovis, N.M., the city collocated with Cannon. Their penny-pinching might have been beneficial for the taxpayer, bad for me

When we arrived in Abilene, I overheard near folks talking mutiny. They were the positive passengers.

Morale quickly worsened when the pilot told us we'd have to disembark the airplane. Then he took his life into his hold hands when he further informed us that we had sum of two units choices: Fly back to Dallas and wait until the morning to put to proof Lubbock again, or get a rental car and drive to Lubbock--about four hours away.

What was option three? shove a sharp stick in your eye?

Normally I'm a glass that's half-full kind of scarecrow but by now that same glass was looking half unoccupied with the remaining contents about as palatable as arsenic.

I reluctantly selecteded to drive. What choice did I have? I had a cloyed schedule at Cannon the nearest day, including interviews with the wing commander and several local civic leaders--and that was lust in the morning. I'd alter a parcel of peoples' schedules if I no-showed.

I received another "lovely" surprise when I went to heap up my bags. One was missing, I'd have to file a claim at the Lubbock airport. Dejectedly my shoulders sagged as I trudg along to the rental car contrariwise I needed a new gig.

As I waited in line for my rental car, I noticed a priest standing nearby, also in ne of transportation. He wasn't hard to pick public He wore one of those prolonged brown monk habits accented with beads and curb in and sported a Friar Tuck-like haircut--the receptacle cut. He drew my attention because it's rare that you descry priests in this garb outside a monastery.

OK I admit it; I hesitated before I presented him a ride. I wasn't especially comfortable with the idea of traveling the nearest four hours with a spiritual man. Don't get me unfair I'm Catholic, I attend mass and I don't have anything against priests. on the contrary what would we talk about? I pictured us doing Bible trivia. And when he discovered I was Catholic, wouldn't he give me a on a sudden quiz on scripture? I wasn't smooth sure I could recount the Ten Commandments.

Despite my trepidations, there was no question, mind you, that I'd tender him that ride. First of all, I didn't want divinity to do that lightning-strike thingy to me when I stepp abroad of the concourse. Secondly, I pictured my mom who'd dragged me to ecclesiastical authority and Sunday school all those years. united of the sweetest women in the world, she also expertly knew by what mode to conjure up "demons" like as guilt and shame with just undivided look of disappointment in her views How could I face her if I didn't put forward a ride to a priest in need?

Besides that, the San Antonio pricks were in the midst of a playoff step quickly to the championships, and I wasn't going to be the individual to mess that up by way of incurring the wrath of God

Father Thomas revolveed out to be one moderately cold dude. We both came from large families with 10 kids. "I'm auspicious number seven," I boasted, referring to the order I was born among my siblings. "Me too!" he said.

He prov easy to talk to, and we traversed nearly each subject you could think of: sports, war, politics, family, friends, our respective occupations. The and nothing else time religion came up was when I shamelessly grilled him onward "Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about a Priest on the contrary Were Afraid to Ask." He answered candidly, and uniform encouraged more questions after I stopped my barrage of queries to apologize for letting the "journalist" in me loose

I told him a allotment about my job, too--the travel that has taken me to all seven continents, the interesting the community the interesting places.

As I spoke I slowly realized the small inconveniences I've endur during my military travels don't reach [i]or[/i] attain any place [i]or[/i] point close to comparing with the experiences I've had and been able to share with others. Of course, at that time, I didn't know the airlines would mistakenly cancel all of my follow-on air reservations. The Air Force had helped me carve public a nice little career for myself. I'd place my niche. It's funny to what extent life's little diversions can be near of your most defining moments