Sometimes I think my life is a country song.
If I had a dollar for every time someone told me that my life reminds them of Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” or Johnny Cash’s “I’ve Been Everywhere” I think I’d be rich.
Not that I’m complaining. I’m grateful to have a life that allows me to travel and see different places and meet different people. Well, ok. The guy back in Cincinnati with the green spiked hair wearing a pink tu-tu was a little over the top, but over all, it’s ok to be a traveler. But other than that, it’s sweet – and humbling – to have work that allows me to pull back the curtain for people who can’t travel as I do. I get immense pleasure from the emails I get from people all over the country telling me how they feel they can live vicariously through my photography and my writing.
The other night in Dallas though, I was reminded again just how much my life is like a country song. Remember George Strait? Well back in 1990 he had a hit song called “Amarillo by Morning”. Here’s what happened.
As the coach pulled into the station in Dallas, the lights came up so folks wouldn’t trip over anything and hurt themselves getting off. It had been a few hours since we left Little Rock and everyone was tired and legs were sore from sitting the whole way.
Waiting my turn in line to leave the bus alone for about an hour, I glanced at my watch. It was just about midnight Central time. Grasping the hand rail, I swung out of the door and waited as the luggage was removed from the bowels of the coach. Seeing mine, I handed the luggage handler my ticket so he could match it up with the tag on my gear bag. Smiling, he nodded, said “have a nice evening” and handed me the bag.
Slinging it over my shoulder with one hand as I lit a cigarette with the other, I stepped back and out of the way so other people could get their luggage.
I glanced at my boarding pass and that’s when it hit me. My life has become a country song. My itinerary had me scheduled to be in Amarillo, Texas at 8am the next morning. Knowing I had an hour or so before my next bus would pull into the station, I strolled around downtown Dallas seeing what there is to see.
There’s not much happening in “cowtown” at midnight during the week. I was able to get a couple of shots of some buildings that were lit up in a unique way, but that was it.
Getting back to the station, I wandered into the cafeteria and bought a cup of coffee. Settling in at a corner booth, I sipped my coffee and thought about the words from that old George Strait song.
“Amarillo by morning…”