Not long ago I traveled to Houston for the Texas Press Association’s Midwinter convention.

It took me three hours to get to Houston, and then, once I got there, it took me another hour to reach the hotel.

Such is life in the big city, I suppose.

When I go to these conventions, I carefully map out the route that I will take.

I do this because living in the country has caused me to lose some of the "urban skills" I once had when I lived in Austin and Dallas. I find that it’s much easier for me to get lost than it once was. I think I’ve gotten used to living in an area where every place is extraordinarily easy to find, and therefore I’ve lost some of my navigation and "sense of direction" skills.

I found my way to the hotel in the big city without too much trouble, but when it was time to come home, that was a different matter.

I just assumed that I could use the map I made to help me get there. All I’d have to do (I thought) was reverse the directions for the trip home.

But there was one little problem.

The part of I-10 that was open when I went to Houston on Thursday was closed when it was time to go home on Saturday.

The sign in front of me said, "I-10 West exit closed."

I thought, "No problem, I’ll just take the I-10 East exit, go east for a little ways, and then make a U-turn which will put me on I-10 going west."

Sounds logical, right?

Wrong.

Once making the U-turn, it quickly became obvious that it wasn’t just the exit that was closed. The part of I-10 I needed was closed. So, I ended up back where I started, headed away from I-10 instead of toward it.

Panic began to set in.

It was raining, and to make matters worse, there was an accident up ahead that forced traffic to move at a snail’s pace.

And that’s when the honking began.

I’m not sure who started it, but the vehicles caught in the traffic jam – hundreds of them – started honking their horns.

"What the heck?" I thought. "Is this New York City?"

I’ve always thought Texans had more sense than the folks in the Big Apple who are famous, or perhaps infamous, for expressing themselves in many ways, not the least of which involves leaning heavily on their vehicles’ car horns.

But nonetheless, there I was, trying to find my way home.

I called my wife thinking that she might be able to help, but I soon realized that since she did not have a map, well, I was on my own.

Fortunately, there was a Texas map in the glove box and the traffic jam provided ample opportunity for me to look at the "five-inch by five-inch" inset of Houston – trying to find my way "out."

This wouldn’t have been too difficult except every 10 seconds; the lady behind me would blast her car horn.

Carefully, I was studying the map. Just as I was about to figure out my escape plan… "HOOOONNNNKKK!"

The sound made me jump and I’d frantically look around thinking I was in some sort of imminent danger.

But there was no danger. And after three or four seconds of looking around, I’d give the lady a "what the heck?" look in the rearview mirror.

Of course, I’d lose my place on the map.

So I’d look down at the map again, and just like the first time "HOOOOONNK!"

I thought I’d start a conversation with this person via the rearview mirror, hoping she could read lips.

"What do you expect me to do?" I asked. "Should I start pushing against the bumper of the car in front of me?"

There was no reply. She just stared back with that vacant stare that city dwellers are known for. They kind of look like caged animals – as though all hope is lost.

She didn’t look happy, that’s for sure. I guess the traffic jam had caused her to be late to wherever she was going that Saturday.

I imagine perhaps that while she felt that she could not control the fact that she was stuck in traffic, there was one thing she could control, by golly. She could blast that car horn as often as she wanted and every time she pushed on it, sure enough, it would honk.

At the time I was a little angry with the woman, but in retrospect, I have to say that I find her condition pitiable.

My short visit to Houston made me realize that city folks spend a lot of time waiting.

Waiting in traffic, waiting for elevators, waiting for service at overly crowded stores and restaurants. All that waiting has got to be terribly frustrating.

I did find my way home, thankfully.

While driving away from the city it occurred to me that there is a reason that people who live in the city have that look on their faces.

After all, not everyone is lucky enough to live in Karnes County.