On being homeowners

As I mentioned a few months ago, Corinne and I have purchased a house. We closed at the end of March and moved in in mid-April. Four months later, we still have a lot of unpacking to do, but we've otherwise settled in to our long-desired home sweet home. 

This is not the first time either of us have purchased a house - both of us owned homes in our previous lives - but it had been so long since either of us last bought a house that the homebuying experience may as well have been completely new to us. 

Our original plan was get out of our apartment (which was becoming too small for us and was being increasingly mismanaged by the complex's new owners) and into our own home shortly after our wedding in 2020. However, the housing market during and immediately following the Coronavirus pandemic was simply too hot for us to attempt to enter. We decided to wait for the local real estate market to cool, even though it meant that we would be dealing with higher interest rates. 

We met with our realtor, a longtime acquaintance of mine, the day after Christmas to begin the search in earnest. Right after the new year we started looking at houses, focusing on areas such as Shady Acres, Garden Oaks, the Washington Avenue corridor, Montrose, Midtown, the Museum District, and even EaDo. We wanted to live inside the 610 Loop, if possible; the suburbs held no attraction for us. We were also fine with a townhome because we didn't want a big yard to take care of.

Over the course of January and February, Corinne and I probably toured forty different properties, trying to find the one that held the right balance of cost, location and amenities. 

It was an eye-opening experience. 

Even through the housing market was calmer than it was in 2021 and 2022, we quickly realized that we would be paying much more for a house in any of our preferred areas than we originally anticipated. We found it a little perplexing and more than a little frustrating that, even though we are both professionals in our late 40s making decent incomes, our options in terms of what was affordable to us turned out to be so limited. 

We weren't alone; housing prices are a source of anxiety for many Houstonians, according to the 2023 Kinder Houston Area Survey: 

Buying a home remains a goal that is out of reach for many people in southeast Texas. The median price for a home in Texas has tripled over the last 10 years while wages have remained relatively flat, according to data from the U.S. Census Bureau. The cost of housing is now top of mind, despite never appearing as a concern in previous surveys - registering at less than 1% of respondents as recently as 2021, then spiking to one in five this year.

After many nerve-wracking weeks, we were finally able to find our home: a townhouse on the eastern edge of Midtown that met our requirements and was within our price range. It has a small yard, is about ten minutes away from my parents, and is (almost) within walking distance of Discovery Green and Minute Maid Park. However, in settling upon it we both had to give up some desired amenities: I would have liked a roof deck with a view of the downtown skyline, Corinne would have liked more cabinet and drawer space in the main bathroom (in all bathrooms, really), and both of us would have liked a larger kitchen. It's also on a corner lot and close to the freeway trench that separates Midtown from Third Ward, so traffic noise is always in the background. But it's ours. (Even if it is one of those stucco monstrosities that so many Houstonians love to hate!)

A quarter-century of aggressive townhome construction inside the loop is, in fact, perhaps the only reason we were able to find anything affordable at all:

Houston famously has no zoning. Developers have quite a bit of latitude to build what they want, where they want. But Houston still has certain restrictions on housing construction, like parking minimums and setback requirements. For years, the city had a minimum lot size of 5,000 square-feet in most neighborhoods—the standard in your typical postwar suburb. But in 1998, the city changed that rule to 1,400 square feet, unleashing a transformative wave of townhouse development.

Today, these townhouses are ubiquitous inside the 610 Loop that marks the central part of the city. A detailed study from the Kinder Institute at Rice University explored the impacts of this development pattern. Between 2005 and 2018, the Inner Loop saw 75,000 new housing units completed, nearly half of which were townhouse units. That’s more housing than San Francisco and Oakland produced, combined, over the same period. The Inner Loop also outperformed the rest of the Houston region in housing production. The area comprises 5% of the total land area of Harris County, but accounted for 19% of new housing built between 2005 and 2018.

While we do not expect to be looking for a house again anytime soon - with any luck, we'll be here for a long time - there are some lessons that we learned from this experience: 

Be patient and don't panic. It took us about two months of constant searching for us to finally find the house we purchased. This was a bit longer than we anticipated, and it was a source of angst for both of us. Homes that looked great on the har.com website would turn out to have fatal flaws once we visited them in person. Homes that we visited and really liked would go under contract before we had an opportunity to make an offer ourselves. We especially began to get antsy as the end-of-lease date at our apartment complex approached. There were times when we considered simply abandoning the home search and signing a new lease, as we weren't sure that we would ever be able to find a suitable house in our affordability range.

In the end, there was no need to panic. Houston is a big city with a vibrant housing market and the right home at the right price will eventually come along, as it did for us.

You can't anticipate everything. We put an offer on this house with the knowledge that it would not come with a refrigerator; the sellers were taking it with them. That was not a problem for us because Corinne had a refrigerator that she had purchased several years ago and kept stored. It was a larger refrigerator, so we made certain that the refrigerator alcove in the second-story kitchen was wide enough, tall enough, and deep enough to accommodate it.

It didn't even cross our minds that Corinne's refrigerator was so large that it wouldn't be able to make it up the stairs. The movers simply couldn't maneuver it up the steps, even with the handles and doors removed, without tearing up the banister or knocking light fixtures off the stairwell. It would have to stay in the garage, and we would have to buy a new, shallower refrigerator that could make it up the stairs. That cost us about two thousand dollars. 

Corinne was able to sell her old refrigerator to an acquaintance, thereby making back at least some of the money we spent on the new one. But the expense - and the days we had to keep a cooler full of ice handy while we waited for the new appliance to be delivered - were not something we even remotely expected.

My knees hate me. Like most of Houston's townhomes, ours has three stories, with the garage and a guest bedroom on the first floor, the kitchen and living area on the second floor, and the main bedroom and another guest bedroom (that we use as an office) on the third floor. This means I'm climbing the stairs a lot, which is something I didn't have to do at our apartment (which we accessed by elevator) or at my previous one-story rental in Bellaire. 

It's not like I don't need the exercise, but it does leave me out of breath at times. And my middle-aged knees can only take so many steps before they tell me I need to stop climbing for awhile.

I can be loud again. Several years of living in an apartment have trained me to tread lightly, carefully lower heavy items like boxes, and not drag furniture across the floor so as not to disturb the neighbors below. I felt horrible anytime I accidentally dropped a spoon in the kitchen or knocked a book off my desk because I knew that the neighbors beneath us could hear it. After I moved into this house, it actually took me a surprisingly long time to un-learn that behavior. I can hop down the stairs or drop heavy boxes onto the floors and I don't have to worry about upsetting anybody beneath us, because nobody lives beneath us anymore!

I'm going to be poor for awhile. Between the down payment, inspection fees, closing costs, moving costs, the new refrigerator and other expenses associated with buying a home, we have exhausted much of our savings. There are still repairs and upgrades the home inspector identified that we have to do, and at some point our hodgepodge of furniture will need to be replaced with actual living room and bedroom sets. The end result is that I'm carrying debt on my credit cards again, which I hate, and am having to be more frugal with my day-to-day purchases. We knew we would probably be "house poor" for awhile after buying this house, but it's still a bit of an eye-opener. 

With all that said, I wouldn't trade any of it to not be a homeowner again. Now if we could just finish unpacking.

Thanks to Ryan Monceaux for navigating us through the homebuying process and helping us find for we were looking for.

Remembering Lahaina

A week and a half ago, the deadliest wildfire in the United States in more than a century incinerated the historic Hawaiian town of Lahaina. The town, on Maui's western coast, was the capital of the Kingdom of Hawaii from 1820 to 1845 and was the royal residence of King Kamehameha, who was the first ruler of a unified Hawaii. The city, with its shop-lined streets and historic buildings, was a mandatory stop for any visitor to Maui. 

The wildfires, which were initially fed by tinder-dry grasses on the drought-stricken island and fanned by the winds of an offshore hurricane, wrought unspeakable devastation. 2,200 structures have been destroyed and 114 people have been confirmed dead so far. The death toll will climb as search and rescue crews continue to scour the ruins. It may be weeks before the true extent of the devastation is known, but we already know that so many heirlooms of Lahaina's - and Hawaii's - history and culture are gone forever. 

I visited Lahaina with my parents about a dozen years ago. I never got around to writing about that trip on this blog, but I did take plenty of pictures. I always expected to return to Lahaina at some point; in fact, Corinne and I originally planned to go to Maui for our honeymoon (unfortunately, COVID forced us to change our plans.) 

Now, there's nothing to return to; these pictures from that 2011 trip can only provide a sense of all that has been lost.

Front Street, as its name suggests, is the street closest to Lahaina's waterfront. It was lined with shops, cafés, art galleries and other attractions. The street was designated by the American Planning Association as one of the Great Places in America. Its wooden buildings were no match for the rapidly-moving wildfire.

Lahaina's iconic banyan tree is the largest such tree in the United States. It was imported from India and planted in front of the Lahaina Courthouse in 1873. In the 150 years since it was planted, its aerial roots have dropped to the ground and become accessory trunks, allowing the tree to sprawl across the city's courthouse square. It provided shade for people to sit, gather, listen to music and sell arts and crafts. 

The tree was badly scorched by the wildfire, but is still standing. Efforts are underway to save the tree, but as of now it is unknown if it will survive the trauma of the fire.

The Old Lahaina Courthouse was originally built in 1859 and restored in 1925 and again in 1990. It housed the Lahaina Heritage Museum. Now, only the masonry exterior shell of the building remains.

A view of Banyan Tree Park from the second story of the Old Lahaina Courthouse. With everything else destroyed, Lahaina residents and business owners are using the tree as a navigation reference to find their burnt-out properties.

The Lahaina Heritage Museum exhibited artifacts from the whaling industry, which was critical to Lahaina's economy in the 1800s. Harpoons, flensing tools and other implements were among the items on display, along with whale teeth scrimshaw and old photographs. These have probably all been destroyed.  

The Pioneer Inn was built in 1901 and was the oldest hotel on Maui as well as the oldest continuously-operating hotel in the state of Hawaii. The Best Western - branded hotel had 34 rooms. It was completely destroyed by the fire. 

The Baldwin House was built in 1834 and was the oldest standing residence on Maui, It is named after the Reverend Dwight Baldwin, a missionary and doctor who moved into the house with his family in 1836. It later became a museum. It was also completely destroyed.

Antique furniture, china and other artifacts of Hawaii's missionary history were on display in the interior rooms of the Baldwin House. It is unlikely that much of it survived the fire.

Another view of Front Street, where it faces the Pacific Ocean. Part of the island of Moloka'i is visible in the distance. The stores on the right side of the photograph all burned to the ground.

The Lahaina Jodo Mission was a Buddhist temple established in 1912 for Maui's migrant Japanese community. It featured a shoro with a bell, seen here with a statue of Buddha in the background. The shoro's bell and the copper Buddha statue survived; the rest of the mission went up in flames.

There was a three-story pagoda at the Lahaina Jodo Mission as well. It no longer exists.

Other sites of historic and cultural importance that were lost in the conflagration included the Waiola Church, the Wo Hing Temple Museum, and the Na 'Aikane o Maui Cultural Center, which contained an archive of Native Hawaiian history and artifacts. 

Lahaina faces a long and expensive rebuilding process, and the effort to salvage the city's surviving artifacts will be painful and tedious. Needless to say, the town and its residents will never be the same. The toll of these wildfires, in terms of lives as well as history lost, is absolutely catastrophic and utterly heartbreaking.

If you want to help, multiple relief organizations are accepting donations.

He did it!

High school was a struggle at times, and the disruption wrought by the COVID-19 pandemic certainly didn't help. But last week, Kirby completed his senior year at Energy Institute High School. We're all very proud of him.

Kirby is not going to immediately attend a four-year college; he's probably going to take a couple of courses at HCC and find a part-time job while he takes a breather and figures out the next phase of his life.

Why is Houston's traffic congestion so bad?

The Chronicle asks the question (as if Houston's traffic was ever "good"):

Every day, Houstonians commute to and from the growing suburbs that surround downtown. It's no secret that traffic congestion will play a significant part in most if not all commutes.

But, as one Chronicle reporter who wrote about her first experiences with Houston traffic wrote, even though every city complains about its traffic, Houston's traffic seems worse.

So why is Houston's traffic so bad?

Texas A&M Transportation Institute (TTI) Senior Research Scientist David Schrank explains that motorist perceptions of traffic are relative: "(w)hat we don't know as motorists is that we are actually going six, seven miles an hour faster than we were a few years ago," he says. 

Schrank identifies three main reasons for Houston's traffic gridlock: construction projects that cause unexpected disruption to motorists' commutes, rapid growth that strains the region's roadway network with new people as well as the goods and services needed to support them, and changes to traffic patterns caused by the COVID-19 pandemic and recovery:

Now, as commuters continue to switch to hybrid work environments, not only does traffic congestion increase but the variability of what days commuters go to work causes even more congestion, Schrank said.

"For example, Monday traffic is not nearly as bad as what Monday traffic used to be," Schrank said. "A lot of workers use Mondays as their work-from-home days, and what we're seeing is Tuesday through Thursday have taken more of the brunt of traffic."

Hybrid work also creates a situation where some people work from home in the morning and go into the office later in the day, or are summoned into the office for face-to-face meetings on days when they would normally work from home.

This creates what Schrank called "trip volatility" and it ultimately adds more time to commutes.

On top of that, the pandemic has created a bigger culture of food and package delivery that also creates traffic congestion, Schrank said.

The data on how much pandemic restrictions being lifted has affected traffic is still being built.

To Schrank's three reasons for congestion I'd also add a fourth: the city's legions of poor and/or reckless drivers that cause accidents that routinely snarl the city's freeways; unlike other causes of congestion, accidents have the potential to cause travel to come to a full and complete stop. A recent study has identified Texas as having the worst drivers in the nation, and the number of fatal traffic crashes in Houston has increased since the beginning of the pandemic.

Unfortunately, traffic congestion is simply a part of Houston life. If you can avoid it, by changing the times or routes you drive, teleworking, walking or bicycling, or using public transportation, great. But for most people in this sprawling, automobile-oriented city, that's simply not an option. 

The standard advice to commuters applies: give yourself plenty of time to get there, put on some relaxing music or an interesting podcast to listen to while you drive, and be courteous to your fellow drivers. After all, they're trying to get to work in one piece, just like you.

RIP John Nova Lomax

A local legend, gone too soon.

In a go-go town, Lomax coveted a slower and reflective pace. He told Houston stories that otherwise would have gone untold, a Sig Byrd for the 21st century. Within the state, his work appeared in the Houston Press, Texas Monthly, Houstonia and Texas Highways, offering a perspective that balanced reverence and skepticism.

His connection to the city felt natural, symbiotic and whole. He understood Houston’s history, its eccentricities, its excesses and its deficiencies.

Lomax wrote books on dive bars and crime in Houston. His writing over the past 20 years was an outgrowth of the family business. Lomax was a seventh-generation Texan. He was also a fourth-generation documentarian in a family of famed folklorists, musicologists and writers.

John Nova Lomax died of liver and kidney failure on May 22, according to family. He was 53 years old. 

I have a handful of friends and acquaintances who knew him personally and are mourning his loss. I was unfortunately never lucky enough to meet John Nova Lomax in person; however, through many years of reading his prolific and luminescent writing, I felt like I knew him well. I am very saddened by his passing.

I greatly enjoyed reading his articles in the Houston Press (where I first encountered his talent for words), Texas Monthly and Houstonia, as well as the writings he made available on his Substack (I regret not becoming a subscriber). His takes on crawfish or local Kroger stores or the botched Rita evacuation were inspirations for some of my posts on this blog. I appreciated his passion for music (even if I didn't always agree with his tastes), food, and the idiosyncrasies of Houston. Lomax hiked the city's streets (the Press has reassembled his "Sole of Houston" series) and investigated its dive bars. He wrote an unflinching account of his own mother and her struggles with addiction (a struggle that he, unfortunately, would share). For Lomax, no subject was off limits and no person was unworthy of his writing.

The Press's Margaret Downing says that Lomax "chronicled Houston and its people and Texans across the state with love and compassion balanced by a keen eye for hypocrisy and humor" and that his writings "will last long past their publication dates." Culturemap's Steven Devadanam writes that "Lomax deftly and superbly chronicled the weird gumbo that is life in Houston and Texas at a time when, quite frankly, it just wasn’t that cool to do so." Joe Nick Patoski of Texas Highways remembers that Lomax "enjoyed lifting the rug, observing, and writing about whatever was going on," while Texas Monthly's Mimi Swartz describes Lomax as "one of those writers who, if he was interested in something, could make you interested in it too." Houston Public Media's Michael Hagerty writes that "Lomax's facility with words about the Lone Star state came naturally, as a seventh-generation Texan, and fourth-generation of Lomaxes devoted to writing, music, and folklore" and provides a link to some of Lomax's appearances on the Houston Matters radio show.

Houston is poorer for John Nova Lomax's passing. May he rest in peace.

The NHL and Houston: be careful what you wish for

Apologies for the lack of new posts over the past couple of months; Corinne and I have been busy (finally!) becoming homeowners. I'll have more to say about that in a future post.

Last week, voters in Tempe, Arizona rejected a proposal to build a new arena for the National Hockey League's Arizona Coyotes. The hockey team, which relocated to Arizona from Winnipeg in 1996 and has previously played in Phoenix and Glendale but now plays in a 5,000-seat facility on the Arizona State University campus, is now left without any good options for a new arena in Arizona and may be looking to relocate to another city. Speculation has flourished that Houston could become the team's new home. 

At first glance it makes sense. Houston is the largest city in the nation without an NHL franchise, and hasn't had a hockey team of any kind since the AHL's Aeros, as well-supported as they were, relocated to Iowa in 2013. The Toyota Center can easily accommodate hockey, and local billionaire and Houston Rockets owner Tillman Fertitta, who holds the lease to Toyota Center, has expressed interest in becoming an NHL owner. The Coyotes are also a geographic fit; they play in the NHL's Central Division along with the Dallas Stars, which sets up the potential for a Houston-Dallas rivalry.

However, there are also some hurdles to be overcome. For one thing, Houston's not the only city looking for a major league hockey team. Salt Lake City and Kansas City (but probably not Quebec City) have also been mentioned as potential future homes for the Coyotes. There's the question as to whether Houston, as big as it is, is really a "hockey town" that can support an NHL franchise. There's also the question as to whether the NHL will accept whatever Fertitta might be willing to pay for the Coyotes. And that's if the Coyotes move at all; the NHL prefers to keep the team in the Phoenix area and will continue looking for new arena options there.

All of which leads to two points I want to make about this topic:

1. I'll believe it when it happens. Houston has been named as a potential home for an NHL franchise, either through expansion or relocation, since the 1990s. It hasn't happened. Over the past thirtysomething years cities like Columbus and Raleigh and Nashville and Las Vegas have received new or relocated teams, but the NHL, for whatever reason, has passed Houston over. 

There was last discussion about Tillman Fertitta bringing NHL hockey to Houston in 2017. Nothing came of it. Maybe this time things will be different, but I'm not holding my breath. Houston just doesn't seem like a priority for the NHL.

2. Be careful what you wish for. Houston getting an NHL franchise is one thing; Houston getting a *good* NHL franchise is something altogether different. Relocation doesn’t necessarily change a sports franchise’s culture, especially if that culture is one of mediocrity. And the Coyotes are, unfortunately, the paragon of mediocrity.

The Coyotes joined the NHL in 1979 as the Winnipeg Jets. They are the league's oldest NHL franchise to have never (!) played in the Stanley Cup Finals. The franchise had a 506-660-172 record in Winnipeg, and only advanced past the first round of the NHL playoffs twice in 17 seasons. That mediocrity has carried over to Phoenix, where the Coyotes' all-time record is 882-892-94 and where they’ve only advanced past the first round of the NHL playoffs twice in 25 seasons (not including the canceled 2004-05 season). The Coyotes have only one playoff appearance over the past 11 seasons and last won a postseason series during their run to the 2012 Western Conference finals. As a result, attendance has suffered: in 2021-22, their last season at the Glendale arena, Arizona averaged only 11,601 fans, which ranked 30th out of 32 NHL teams.

Given that Houston is a fair-weather, front-runner sports town, a poorly-performing Coyotes team would likely see a similar fate at the ticket office here in Houston, after the initial novelty of an NHL franchise in the city wears off. The Coyotes could become just another chapter in Houston's long history of underachieving sports teams, and the NHL could come to regret its decision to move a team into Houston.

This phenomenon isn’t limited to hockey, either. The Vancouver Grizzlies of the NBA had an abysmal .220 winning percentage in Vancouver; since moving to Memphis their all-time record is better but still below .500 (.480), and the franchise has only advanced past the first round of the NBA playoffs four times in 22 seasons. The original Charlotte Hornets were, likewise, mediocre, with a .486 record. After moving to New Orleans and becoming what are now known as the Pelicans, their record stands at .461. 

MLB's Montreal Expos had an all-time record of .484; their record since moving to Washington and becoming the Nationals is now .487, their 2019 World Series championship notwithstanding.

The NFL’s Cardinals had a 186-248-25 record in Chicago and a 186-202-14 record in St. Louis. Since they moved to Phoenix their record is 230-330-2 (although they have appeared in one Super Bowl since moving to Arizona). And let’s not forget that star-crossed football team originally known as the Houston Oilers; they had an all-time winning percentage of .494 here in Houston, along with multiple playoff heartbreaks that traumatize me to this day. They’ve only done marginally better since moving to Tennessee and becoming the Titans, with a .524 record and one gut-wrenching loss in Super Bowl XXXIV. 

This is not to say that franchises never improve when they relocate; there are a couple of examples of this happening in the NHL. The Hartford Whalers had an all-time record of 534-709-177 and only advanced past the first round of the NHL playoffs once in 18 seasons in Connecticut; they have done better in Carolina, with a current record of 933-957-86 and ten playoff appearances (their nine-year playoff drought from 2009-10 through 2017-18 notwithstanding), including the 2006 Stanley Cup. The Quebec Nordiques, likewise were mediocre in Quebec City with a 497-599-16 record over 16 seasons, but have a 1114-771-101 record (and three Stanley Cup Championships) since relocating to Denver. 

My point is simply that, on average, relocating a franchise doesn't automatically change that team's fortunes on the field or the ice or the hardwood. If a team without a winning culture is relocated to Houston, they might not be the draw we want them to be. And that would disappoint both local fans and the NHL alike.

The Coyotes will likely stay in Arizona for the 2023-24 season, but could be on the move afterwards.

 

Kuff and Jeff Balke have more.

A summer weekend in San Francisco

Rome wasn't the only iconic and historic city I finally visited in 2022. Last June, as part of a larger trip with my family to Lake Tahoe, Corinne and I spent a weekend in San Francisco. (It only took me eight whole months to write about it...)

I had heard horror stories (like this one) about San Francisco's current condition as a hyper-liberal, anything-goes hellscape where legions or homeless people roamed the streets in search of their next fentanyl dose, smash-and-grab burglaries were routine, and shoplifters brazenly pillaged stores with impunity.

However, the San Francisco we discovered last summer didn't seem quite that horrible. In fact, we found it to be a beautiful city that we want to visit again.

Haight Street, near Ashbury. Unfortunately, the Hippies have long since been gentrified out of this neighborhood.

San Francisco’s “homeless problem” may be overstated by the national media. With the caveat that I did not venture into the Tenderloin, I didn’t see a homeless population in SF any more severe than I might see in Downtown or Midtown Houston. I didn’t have to step over any unhoused person (or their encampments, or their puddles of piss or piles of shit) as I walked along San Francisco’s sidewalks. 

The homeless people that I did see generally kept to themselves and did not accost us for spare change or otherwise make us feel uncomfortable.

Robin Williams Meadow in Golden Gate Park, with Sharon Art Studio and Sutro Tower in the distance. 

There were, however, signs everywhere around the city warning people not to leave valuables in the their cars. And I noticed that at least one large chain clothing store on Market Street had a line of people waiting to enter; security guards were limiting the number of people who could be in the store at one time, presumably to combat shoplifting.

These were indicators that San Francisco does indeed have a property crime problem that the city is trying to battle. But, as tourists, Corinne and I never felt unsafe anywhere we went.

Golden Gate Bridge, as seen from the Visitor's Center on its south end, partially shrouded in fog.

"You just have to see it in person” is a cliché, but in the case of the Golden Gate Bridge, it’s true. I have seen pictures, videos, and movies of the bridge for my entire life, but none of them do it justice. It's hard to appreciate just how big and impressive it is until you've seen it for yourself with your own eyes.  

The bridge, which connects San Francisco with Marin County to the north, opened in 1937.

The south tower of Golden Gate Bridge, which rises to a height of 746 feet.

It is possible to bike or walk all the way across the bridge; in fact, we saw people jogging across it. Corinne and I only went as far as the south tower, but we were still treated to a magnificent view of the bay, Alcatraz, and the city. It was cold and windy on the bridge itself, but downtown San Francisco, off in the distance, was bathed in bright sunlight. The city's weather is famously interesting.

The entrance to Fisherman's Wharf. We didn't make it down to Pier 39 to see the sea lions, but we did go to Ghirardelli Square for some chocolate and a beer, so we did a few of the touristy things.

There are so many good seafood restaurants here in Houston. But, respectfully, none of them do crab cakes like they do in Fisherman’s Wharf. Those were surreally delicious. 

In fact, every meal we had in San Francisco, from lunch at a French cafe in Height/Ashbury to dinner at a Thai restaurant in The Castro, was excellent. We weren't in San Francisco long enough to even scratch the surface of all the different cuisines the city has to offer.

The Powell and Hyde Cable Car turntable near Ghirardelli Square.

We brought the Muni day pass ($5), which allows unlimited rides on buses and light rail for an entire day. This was very convenient for us as we explored the city, although we still did a lot of walking. 

The iconic cable cars are a big tourist draw, and you need a special ticket to ride them (the Muni day pass won't get you on board). We didn't feel like standing in a long line and paying $8 per person just to ride a cable car, but we did have fun watching the cars be manually turned at the end of their route.

The 1886 rigger Balclutha, with Alcatraz in the background.

As I mentioned previously, San Francisco's weather is famously interesting. During the day, the weather was generally wonderful. Once night fell, however, things got cold rather quickly. "The coldest winter  I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco" may not have been said by Mark Twain, but it's an accurate quote nevertheless.

Powell Street BART Station. Along Market Street in downtown San Francisco, MUNI trains run one level below the surface while BART runs two levels below the surface. 

Muni provides transit service in San Francisco itself, while BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) is a metro system serving the entire Bay Area. Obviously, as a transitgeek I had to take a ride.

As much noterity as the Golden Gate Bridge gets for being an engineering marvel (and it is), the BART Transbay Tube also deserves some recognition. This tunnel, which will celebrate its 50th birthday in just a couple of years, zipped us underneath the Bay from San Francisco to Oakland and back in a matter of minutes. 

Tribune Tower in Downtown Oakland.

The primary purpose of the trip to Oakland was to ride BART; we were in that city just long enough to walk down to Jack London Square and stop in for a drink at a local bar. I was on my best behavior as an Astros fan and refrained from telling A's fans how much their team sucks. 

Jack London Square in downtown Oakland.

The differences in microclimate around the Bay are really amazing. When we took the trip across the bay, it was cold and windy in San Francisco but warm and clear in Oakland. Did I mention that this place has interesting weather?

The corner of 18th Street and Castro Street, which is the center of San Francisco's famous "gayborhood." Note the maze of trolleybus catenary wires; the electric motors of Muni's trolleybus fleet handle San Francisco's steep grades better than standard diesel-powered buses. 

Corinne and I have a problem when we travel: we say to ourselves, "let's travel to place X and scratch it off our list of places to see." Then we get there and spend a few days, and realize that there is just so much more to do and see that we have no choice but to return. 

Since we’ve been together, this has been a problem: instead of getting shorter, the travel list keeps getting longer because there are simply so many places we need to return to: Germany, Mexico City, Austria, Venice, Washington DC, Greece, Rome, etc... Now we have to add San Francisco to the list as well. There are entire neighborhoods and attractions - Chinatown, the Embarcadero, the Presidio, Russian Hill, the zoo, Oracle Park, all the museums - that we didn't get a chance to see during our all-too-brief visit.

A residential street near Duboce Park.

One final note: Most of what we saw in San Francisco while we walked through it - downtown, Haight/Ashbury, Golden Gate Park, Chrissy Field, Fisherman’s Wharf and the Castro - were normal people doing normal things: hanging out in parks with their kids, fishing off Torpedo Pier, walking their dogs, biking, jogging, having conversations over drinks in outdoor cafes, etc. The city was not a dystopian hellscape.

Does San Francisco have its problems? Yes. Every major city does. However, at a time when this country is horrifically polarized, please do yourself a favor and do not buy into media-driven stereotypes about an entire city.

Boeing delivers the final 747

I've been following the gradual demise of four-engined commercial aircraft on this blog, so I knew this news was coming. Still, it's a bit sad:

More than half a century since the original jumbo jet ushered in a glamorous new jet age, helping bring affordable air travel to millions of passengers, the last-ever Boeing 747 was delivered on Tuesday, marking the start of the final chapter for the much-loved airplane.

In a ceremony that was broadcast live online, the aircraft was handed over to its new owner, US air cargo operator Atlas Air, at Boeing’s plant in Everett, Washington.

In a dramatic opening of the hangar’s sliding doors, Atlas Air’s new plane was revealed behind flags bearing the liveries of every carrier that’s ever taken delivery of a 747. The company has 56 of the aircraft in its fleet.

Going back to the iconic aircraft's first delivery in early 1969, a total of 1,574 "Jumbo Jets" have come off Boeing's assembly line in Everett, Washington. The last 747 intended for passenger service was delivered to Korean Air in 2017; deliveries for freight carriers continued for a few additional years, culminating in this final delivery to Atlas Air.

While the final 747 won’t be carrying paying passengers, its delivery is another milestone for the distinctive double-decker “Queen of the Skies,” which revolutionized intercontinental travel while also appearing in James Bond films and even giving piggyback rides to the Space Shuttle.

With the last passenger 747 having entered service more than five years ago, the end of the 747’s enduring career now moves even closer, hastened by airlines switching their preferences to smaller and more economical aircraft.

Sine entering production in 1968, the 747 and its many variants (including the shorter, longer-range 747SP) managed to outlast its three- and four-engined widebody rivals, including the Lockheed L-1011 (manufactured from 1968 through 1984), the McDonnell Douglas DC-10 and MD-11 (1970-2000), the Airbus A340 (1991-2012), and its only double-decker competitor, the Airbus A380 (2003-2021):

It was the introduction of the European double-decker plane in the early 2000s that prompted Boeing to announce, in 2005, one last version of the 747 design that by that time was already starting to show its age.

The B747-8I (or B747-8 Intercontinental), as this last variant of the venerable jumbo jet is called, proved to be a swan song for large four-engined airliners.

Even though the A380 is currently enjoying a revival, with airlines rushing to bring stored aircraft back to service in response to the post-Covid air traffic recovery, these giants of the skies struggle to compete with the operational flexibility and fuel economies of smaller twin-engined jets.

As of December 2022, there are only 44 passenger versions of the 747 still in service, according to aviation analytics firm Cirium. That total is down from more than 130 in service as passenger jets at the end of 2019, just before the pandemic crippled demand for air travel, especially on international routes on which the 747 and other widebody jets were primarily used. Most of those passenger versions of the jets were grounded during the early months of the pandemic and never returned to service.

Lufthansa remains the largest operator of the passenger version of the B747-8, with 19 in its current fleet and potential commitments to keep the jumbo flying passengers for years, possibly decades, to come.

Indeed, even though the newest 747s, including this final freighter, will likely be flying for decades, the 747 is already obsolete. Two-engined aircraft might not be as iconic or as interesting as the Jumbo Jet, but they are significantly more fuel efficient, and the evolution of ETOPS regulations means that twin-engined aircraft can fly on just about any long-haul route in the world. While some 747s, A340s and A380s are currently being reactivated to handle post-COVID premium-seat demand, routes once flown by these four-engined aircraft will be increasingly turned over to twin-engined widebodies such as the Boeing 787 Dreamliner and Airbus A350.

I flew on a 787 to Europe and back last November. It was perfectly fine. But it just wasn't as "cool" as flying a 747.

 NPR and CBS News and The Points Guy have more on the 747's final delivery. Simple Flying considers how the 747 changed aviation forever and lists the commercial routes still using the aircraft (including Houston-Frankfurt on Lufthansa later this year). Boeing workers reflect on the 747 to The Seattle Times.

2023 Houston Cougar football schedule released

Last week, the Cougars' schedule for 2023 - their inaugural season in the Big 12 - was released:

Sat Sep 02     UT-San Antonio

Sat Sep 09     at Rice

Sat Sep 16     TCU

Sat Sep 23     Sam Houston State

Sat Sep 30     at Texas Tech

Sat Oct 07     (off)

Thu Oct 12    West Virginia

Sat Oct 21     Texas

Sat Oct 28     at Kansas State

Sat Nov 04    at Baylor

Sat Nov 11    Cincinnati

Sat Nov 18    Oklahoma State

Sat Nov 25    at Central Florida

On one hand, this is a schedule that will definitely sell some tickets. That October 21st date against the Texas Longhorns will doubtlessly be the biggest game in TDECU Stadium history, but games against CFP runner-up TCU and Oklahoma State will also be big draws. ESPN chose Dana Hologrsen's showdown against his former employer, West Virginia, for an interesting Thursday night game. Even the out-of-conference games, against a UTSA team that took the Cougars to the wire last year and a Sam Houston State program transitioning to FBS, should be well-attended. UH faithful who always wanted a schedule full of regional rivals and marquee programs got their wish in spades this year.

On the other hand, this schedule is such a big upgrade from UH's previous slates that I honestly don't see more than four wins this fall. Every opponent on this schedule, in fact, has the ability to beat a Houston team that underachieved last fall, will be starting a new quarterback this fall, and is still coached by the underwhelming Dana Holgorsen. The second half of the schedule - starting with the Longhorns at home and followed by back-to-back roadies against KSU and Baylor - is going to be especially brutal.

That said, there are some aspects of this schedule that will benefit the Cougars. Namely, the relative lack of travel. Houston plays eight games in the City of Houston and only leaves the State of Texas twice, for trips to Kansas and Florida. There are two pairs of back-to-back home games. The Thursday night game against the Mountaineers gives the Cougars an extra couple of days to prepare for Texas. The Coogs miss having to play a Kansas team that embarrassed them last year and don't have to face Oklahoma or BYU.

The bottom line: it's fantastic that, after wandering in the wilderness that is the Group of Five for the last 27 seasons, the University of Houston's football program once again has a seat at the table with the big boys. For Cougar fans such as myself, this has been a long time coming and I am certainly going to enjoy it, win or lose.

But with joining the big boys comes growing pains. The Cougars better be prepared to experience some this fall.

Ryan, Sean Pendergast, College Football News and Underdog Dynasty have more.

Houston's bad driving habits

Jay Jordan wants Houston drivers to stop sucking:

Everyone in Houston is guilty of a little bad driving now and then. Especially now that we’re out of practice, it’s easy to slip up once in a while and perform a traffic faux pas. But these bad driving habits show up day after day, week after week. They’re Houston’s unwritten surly rules of the road, and they need to come to an end. Please, make it stop.

Local driving practices that draw Jordan's ire are: crossing multiple lanes to exit a freeway, chasing down other drivers in fits of rage, not merging when one is supposed to, and driving slowly on the freeways:

The slow poke 

What’s just as bad as speeding 90 mph on the freeway? Driving under the speed limit.

I get that it’s completely legal to drive slower than the speed limit. That’s great and all, but is it right? No. The freeway is meant to facilitate high volumes of traffic efficiently, and puttering along at 45 mph isn’t helping anyone, even you.

Car isn’t fast enough? Don’t feel safe at highway speeds? Towing something? That’s great. Take the feeder roads and spare the rest of us.

This is especially true for people who drive slow in the left lane and is a supreme peeve of mine. If you're driving under the speed limit, or otherwise significantly below the flow of traffic, on a freeway, you are creating a safety hazard that is just as dangerous as somebody who is driving at excessive speed.

Houston motorists have other bad driving habits that Jordan could have mentioned as well, for example people who don't let you into their lane when you want to move over (it's like they see your turn signal and take it as a challenge), people who are too busy texting on their phones at traffic signals to notice that the light has turned green, or assholes who litter. When it comes to driving in this city, there's no shortage of bad behavior.

So why do Houston drivers tend to engage in such dangerous and sociopathic practices? I think a lot has to do with selfishness. People think that their trip is the most important one being undertaken on the city's roads; screw anybody who gets in their way! I'm not sure what can be done about it, either, short of massive law enforcement crackdowns that aren't going to happen because local police have more important things to do than pull over every slow driver or lane cutter.

Which means that we're just going to have to continue to put up with these shitty driving habits on our city's streets and highways. 

Be courteous and drive safely. Please.