Like Ernestine’s on a Sunday, by the time Shep dragged himself up to the gate for the 6:10 L.A. departure, the Houston airport was a mob scene. Where had all these people come from? His reminiscing daydream had ushered in a short, sitting-up nap, and when he awoke, he had a brief flash of irrational fear that maybe he’d slept for four months until the Thanksgiving travel rush. Announcements were louder and more frequent, suitcases seemed larger and more unwieldy, and everywhere he tried to pick a pathway there appeared another family of corn-rowed tweens in matching beaded Playa Del Carmen! tees to slalom through. When he finally arrived, back where he’d started his Odyssey at Gate 48, he glanced out the window to see if We’ll Take You There!Lines had started flying jumbo jets. But what wa
