If I recall correctly, the last time I flew through Houston was in 2002, when T. and I went to Honduras right before I moved to Rwanda. It looks familiar, from those three or so years when I flew to Nicaragua once and Honduras thrice.
It's different on Christmas Day, though. The guy driving the cart smiles when he has to block me for a moment, and he says, "No, no, you're fine." And then "Merry Christmas!" as he drives away.
A tiny boy in Christmas pajamas is toddling in front of a gate.
Two little girls - three or so years old - are rolling on the floor in the center of the cross shape of terminal C. They wear Christmas jumpers with tights, and they sing "Jingle all the way!" as they roll right where people usually walk. I smile at their mom, who smiles back as she tries to corral them.