Day 23: 12:14 p.m.

There weren't homeless people or street people in Houston, Texas.  At least they weren't where I went.

I did see mega sized strip malls, a Trader Joe's that looked like it should have been Caesar's Palace and I also spotted a huge sign announcing, "HOT WINGS."  It must have stood twenty feet high.  Who eats hot wings and more, who needs a sign that big?

"This is Texas," my host told me.  "Everything is big here."

We passed the HOT WINGS sign on our way to River Oaks, which is the richest neighborhood in Houston.  River Oaks is so rich there are walls of bushes built twenty feet high--often times two layers thick--so no one gets to see the house, the grounds and the servants quarters.  These are little universes of privacy.  Little states of America within America. 

"That's were your $4.00 a gallon is going," my host told me, as he meandered the car past locked gates and layers of bushes that blocked all views.  Based on the length of the gates though, I did get a sense that a massive amount of property was on the other side. Some of the gates went on for blocks. 

This area of Houston is so wealthy, they have their own police force.

And this is what I thought while I stared at the window at the stunning display of wealth that comes from oil.

1)  There are no homeless people here.
2)  The cost of these houses will be more than I, my neighbor and several of my neighbors will earn in a lifetime.
3)  This disparity of wealth reminds me of the lessons in the history books where the people--the people who can barely eat--will rebel and tear all the wealth down in a frenzy of rage, injustice and hunger.

Being homeless didn't seem like such a scary thing after all.  Being crazy rich, that must be damn scary because history tells us it's just a matter of time.  No wonder they have their own police force.