I wasn't certain, when I arrived in San Antonio, whether I would actually see the Alamo. I knew I would want to see it. I knew I would plan to see it. I knew I would look it up on the map and ask the people at the front desk how to get there.

But I also knew that unless it was absolutely on my way to someplace else or, if I could fall out the front door of the hotel and see it, I would never quite get around to actually visiting the Alamo.


To that end, when I arrived at the airport I took this picture, as a backup:
                     

Traveling in the age of e-mail and Blackberrys and cell phones and beepers - beepers, how retro! - makes it difficult to say, "Sorry. I was on the road and I didn't get your message about wanting to talk to me immediately for two weeks."

The other side of that equation is: people think they have to tell you that they won't be answering you in the next seven nanoseconds. Cell phones have voice mail and e-mails have the now-ubiquitous "automatic-out-of-office-reply."

I don't care, frankly, whether you got to read Mullings within minutes of it hitting your mailbox. I would like you to read it eventually, but immediacy is between you and your schedule.

E-mails don't differentiate between Mullings and a note from your candidate who wants to tell you he has decided to come clean on the girlfriend issue (which he might not have mentioned previously) but needs to talk to you first.

In big time politics this means only one thing: The wife has found out and is in the process of tossing the candidate's tightie-whities out the bedroom window onto the front lawn with the appropriate play-by-play description of why this activity is occurring.

Here's the potential problem you are facing when you send an automatic-out-of-office-reply which says something like:

I am not able to respond to your e-mail as I am taking my family on a tour of the six most under-inhabited places on Earth - including Africa, Asia, South America, Antarctica, and West Virgina.

I will be gone from August 3 through September 4 and I will not be anywhere that there is electricity (especially during the West Virginia portion) much less internet access.

In my absence my assistant, Muffy, might be able to help you.

What's wrong with this? Anyone? Yes. In the rear. Mr. Galen, how nice of you to stay awake for my class today.

The problem with this is that every robber in the solar system knows that they have a full month to back a truck up to your home and steal everything you've ever owned.

Excellent. That's exactly correct. I must say, Mr. Galen, I am more than a little surprised.

In the future, after you've activated the automatic reply feature of your e-mail client, go home and tack a note to you door:

On to my very important travel:

Here's how I started my speech in San Antonio to the Republican National Lawyers Association:

A few of us went to dinner last night and, when it was over I decided to walk back to my hotel - the Emily Dickenson, no the Edna St. Vincent Millay - [to John Fund who was sitting in the first row and was staying at the same hotel] what was it, John?

Fund: Emily Meyer.

Right. So, I got lost. I always get lost. It's about 10:30 at night and I ask a woman if she knows were the Alamo is because the hotel is right next to it. I didn't think most people would know the - Emily whatever - but I figured everyone would know where the Alamo was.

The woman said, "K."

I looked on my map and saw Avenue "E", but no Avenue "K." In any event I thought the hotel was on Houston. I found two more people and they told me the same thing.

I finally realized it was a cultural thing. They weren't saying "K", they were trying to say "Kwah" - Q. U. E. [Laughter, once they realized my pronouncing the Spanish question �que? "kwah" was the joke].

Now. I waited for you that time, but don't think I'm going to pause so you know where the laugh lines are throughout. [More - this time self-conscious - laughter]

Finally I found a cop who told me I was having a crisis in confidence, if I would just keep walking down the street I was on, I'd see it.

I did. And I did. As I turned the corner, a white van pulled up next to me; the driver rolled down the window, and the guy says: "Hey, do you know where the Alamo is?"

I said, �que?. Thereby getting even with San Antonio. [sustained laughter]

In addition to being a good speech opening, it was also true.

As it happened, I could fall out the front door of my hotel, so I went to see it.

Speaking of the airport, the San Antonio airport - at least the Delta part - is the ugliest air facility outside of Eastern Europe I have ever seen. There was trash everywhere, and the air conditioning system is thus:

San Antonio, notwithstanding this end of the airport, is a great town. The Riverwalk area which was built, I think, in the 1920's has progressed to the point where there are restaurants, bars, hotels, and general upscale-type establishments. This, as opposed to block after block of t-shirt shops, head shops, or empty stores.

The the answer to how the Riverwalk avoided flooding during the very high water last month is this: There are flood gates at either end. So, when the San Antonio River floods, the drop the gates like huge, concrete garage doors, and the canal stays at its assigned depth.

During the safety lecture prior to a boat ride, the instructions for living in the water after falling overboard were: Stand up. The water is only about four feet deep.

Across from the Alamo is exactly the kind of tourista area which does not exist on the Riverwalk. Specifically, there is a combination wax museum and Ripley's Believe It or Not.

Really.

In the window of the place were two things of interest. One was this wax statue of Tom Landry:

At least I think it was wax. Maybe it's Tom Landry. Maybe it's Ted Williams made up to look like Tom Landry.

You know that saying that some people see things as they are and say "why?" And others see things as they ought to be and say "why not?"

I see things and say, "What the hell were they thinking?"

This is called having an enhanced sense of irony. Twisted, is another word for it.

Anyway, in the window of the Ripley's Believe It or Not is this sign:

Now. Look at the name of the organization at the bottom.

If you were the chairman of the American Accounting Association, do you think, given everything that has gone on in your industry over the past six months, that you would want the name of your group under the title: Ripley's Believe It or Not?

I finished the speech to the National Republican Lawyers Association, and headed back to the airport for the trip to Las Vegas.

As I neared the Hertz place to return my car, thinking again about how ugly the airport terminal was, I came across this:

I thought, "My God. I am in Eastern Europe." Or, at a minimum,I whispered to myself, "we're not in Kansas any more."

Next: The flight to Las Vegas!