Armed with a pocket full of American quarters for toll roads and a couple wrinkled Google maps to orient myself, I hit up Texas for the weekend. My rental car and I quickly became best friends, until the radio station insisted on playing Nickleback every 3rd song. I can't believe Americans won't take our beef but they'll gobble up our crappy yowler bands. But I quickly cheered myself up with a new hat:
I checked out Crystal Beach on the Bolivar Peninsula, only to discover that everbody just drives their cars, sorry, trucks all over the beach, which grossed me out from an ecological point of view, but I started to see the benefits when this guy rolled up with his tastey frozen treats:
The child-nerd in me spent way too much time at the Johnson Space Centre hanging out (that one was for Allie) with this guy:
If only I didn't just see a news piece about girls getting botox for prom to sour my lovin' feelings for the Lone Star State.