Dallas

I spent this last week in the Dallas area.  Actually, to be more accurate, I was in North Dallas; Frisco and Garland to be exact.  Overall, it wasn't much to write home about (I was there for work); my days were filled with meetings and training and my nights were filled with cramming.  (I really have no love for professors who load their students up with mountains of homework and assignments due the day after spring break.)  On top of that, I was surrounded by mile upon dreary mile of suburbia.  Think endless concrete and strip malls, chain stores and huge, apparently never-ending neighborhoods filled with pricey, cookie-cutter homes.  (On the positive side, there were always at least five Office Maxes, eight Targets, seventeen Wal-marts, 38 grocery stores and 8,000 restaurants, give-or-take, within a 15-minute radius of a person at any given point.)  The bright spot in all of this was the little bakery I found around the corner from my hotel (Kolache Heaven), serving cinnamon rolls every bit as good as the ones I make myself, which are pretty good, I might add.  That, and spending a last few days with someone that I love very much and who I'm not sure when I'll see again.

Ok, so I ate alright... (This was from Norma's Cafe, which was way better than I expected.)

Friday night rolled around though, and my work was done, so I headed downtown.  (I'm a big fan of extending business trips a day or two, so I can feel out the lay of the land.)  My workday ended pretty late Friday, so I didn't have much time for anything except grabbing dinner. (That is a total excuse.  I could have gone and checked out Seryn at the Big Folkin' Festival in Deep Ellum; they weren't playing until late, but I wimped out.)  I settled for driving down to the Bishop Arts District and grabbing a quick bite at Boulevardier.  I ordered the charcuterie and cheese board.  I get a total kick out of the variety you get with these; this one was no exception.  Pate, prosciutto, smoked salmon, a few varieties of cheese, bread and crackers, plus all sorts of sweet, sour, crunchy and smeary things. (Think caper berries, gherkins, pomegranate seeds and blackberries, pepitas, some sort of stewed raisin things, and other stuff I'm probably forgetting.)  I've had better (the prosciutto was especially...weird), but it was still pretty good, and I would definitely eat there again.  (I didn't take a picture - it was too dark, and I was too tired.)

OK, so I stayed at the Aloft downtown.  My favorite hotel EVER.  It's located in an old building at the heart of downtown (a block or so from the Convention Center) and it is EXCEEDINGLY COOL.  Lots of exposed brick and ductwork, edgy art and groovy seating areas.  The whole effect was extremely hip and happening; when I arrived, the place was hopping - great energy.  (I say this like it matters - I went straight upstairs and to bed like the live wire that I am.)  Still though, the cute couple that got into the elevator with me in the three piece suit and hat and ravishing retro-cool black dress and red rose combo, straight off an indie album cover, fit right in with the vibe of the place.  No lobby shots (I forgot), and room shots aren't great, but gosh, I had a grand time living in that space for a few hours.

I slept in there! (Why is she so excited, you ask?)

Next morning, after a lovely sleep sesh, complete with the luxury of NO ALARM, I hit the city.  My window looked out on what appeared to be a pleasant little park and sculpture garden, so I wandered over to it before I went out in search of food.  It turned out to be a historic cemetery, filled with the mostly Civil-War era graves of Dallas citizens, some of whom were prominent history-makers.  I love wandering old cemeteries, looking at names and dates, wondering about the stories that lie buried there, and being enveloped in this quiet sense of timelessness that one finds.  I ran across one headstone in particular that really stuck with me:

Loved by his family
Regretted by all
Respect to his memory

You get to wondering, in a moment like that, what someone might see fit to write on your tombstone.  I'd be pretty happy to earn that epitaph right there.  Loved, missed and respected.  Job well done, I'd say.

The park also had this big sculpture installment - I think it was a tribute to Texas' cowboy tradition, because it was basically a whole herd of Texas longhorns, plus a few cowboys.  It was really cool - I love looking at how they lay these things out, their eye for perspective and timing and all; some of the cattle were crossing a little water canal on the property; some were racing down a little hill... It was just neat.  What was really great was when I walked down to inspect a little more closely - the sculptures were big, maybe a little bigger than life-sized, and I had the sensation of being in the middle of a moving herd.  I had to walk between a few of the cows, and my heart actually pounded a little.  Kudos to the sculptor.

Here's where it felt a little freaky real.

All of this introspective wandering was suddenly punctuated by the doors of the Convention Center across the park opening and regurgitating what appeared to be thousands of Mary Kay reps into the park and its surrounding areas.  These ladies, bless their hearts, would be recognized anywhere - lots of red and hot pink two-piece suits, impeccable makeup, hair that is styled in the italic sense of the word, and whose passing wafts heavily-perfumed air past one's nose.  Time to move on!

A few sights on the way to brunch...

Check it out!  A house on top of a building!

 I love how this little guy is dwarfed by the buildings around him.  Obviously, he has a bit of grit.

Yes, an eyeball. 

I walked a couple of blocks to CBD Provisions, where I wanted to eat breakfast.  (Lunch, actually.  It was after noon by now, a product of not setting an alarm.)  I ordered a Grown Up Soda (Eh. I'll stick with the kid ones), the Roasted Carrot Hummus, and the Green Chile Pork Tacos.  Ok, the hummus was amazing.  It was garnished with harissa (a spicy pepper paste) and spicy peanuts and served with toasted bread for dipping.  The effect was incredible - the hummus itself, slightly sweet from the carrots, with a little bit of heat from the peppers and crunch from the peanuts... Divine.  I could have just eaten that and been happy as a lark.  The tacos were pretty good - corn tortillas filled with scrambled eggs, pork and queso fresco (a delicious Mexican white cheese), garnished with white onions, cilantro, radish and lime, and served with skillet potatoes and peppers.  Not rock-star, but very, very solid.  (The hummus? That was rock-star.  Just saying.)

 So. So. Good.

My breakfast was enlivened by an adjoining table full of a bunch of dudes, apparently celebrating some sort of brunchy bachelor party.  (Could there be such a thing?)  It was hilarious in a suffocating sort of way - a bunch of guys in flip-flops and preppy outfits, Neiman Marcus bags and pricey-looking bottles of liquor giving clue to their upper-middle-class status, all outrageously loud and thoroughly pleased with themselves, swapping the most obnoxious of stories, and no doubt savoring this estrogen-free get-together.  I got such a bang out of how each one of them would contribute something incredibly witty (from his point of view) to the conversation, and then sit back and wait for the appreciation of his peers.  They always obliged quite vocally with uproarious amusement.

I, in turn, amused myself telling their stories - they probably all drive the obligatory decent car - Lexus, BMW, that sort of thing, live in those cookie-cutter developments where houses go for 500k or so, their wives are probably all Mary Kay reps, probably all work on their golf game at the country club and hold nice, respectable jobs at the law firms they joined after graduating nice, respectable universities... Each will have 2.5 children, at least one boy and one girl, who they will raise in an entirely appropriate manner, which will include attending Father-Daughter breakfasts at school, coaching Little League, and taking nice vacations at the family lake house every summer.  Socializing will consist of barbecues in the backyard and wine tastings at the neighbors', and once the kids are grown, they'll retire to South Florida and go on cruises with other retired friends.

Ok, I need to go outside now, for some fresh air, before I smother.  Three words.  No. Thank. You.

Anyway.

I was on my way to the Sixth-Floor Museum on Dealey Plaza (site of the infamous assassination of JFK), but I wanted to see as much of the area as I could, so I took the long way around.  I thoroughly enjoyed passing the Dallas Aquarium and walking through the Arts and Historic Districts.  It was a beautiful day, and folks were out en masse, enjoying the lovely weather and the festivities in the parks.  (I passed the Second Annual Mudbug Bash in one park and some sort of music festival going on in another.  The food trucks offered things like architectural ice-cream sandwiches and blew bubbles over the crowds.)

Dallasites doing the spring day.

I passed this building on my jaunt - made me think civil engineering wouldn't be so bad after all, if I can be a part of structures like this...

It was quite the experience to walk around the corner and see the Texas Schoolbook Depository standing in front of me, in living color, after having watched so many documentaries and read so many accounts of that dark time in American history.  Sure enough, the building was immediately recognizable, as was the triple underpass and grassy knoll.  The museum was thought-provoking, as one might expect.  So many questions, so few answers, and what was the purpose of it all?  Tragedy, pure and simple, but an important link in our national story.

And there it is, complete with that sixth-floor window.

The grassy knoll...

The triple underpass...

The view of the road in front of the depository. You can just see one of the "x"s that mark the spots where the bullets hit.

A better view of the X. Plus a classic shot of Americans being American.  "Here, take a picture of me in the middle of the highway next to the exact spot where a bullet entered John F. Kennedy, as speeding cars approach and honk!" I love us.

I had just enough time after browsing the exhibits (I am an expert museum-goer - I study every exhibit, read every word, examine every photo, and listen to every sound clip.  I do not recommend me as a companion if you are bored or in a hurry.) to walk across the street to the memorial fountains and walkways on the grassy knoll (isn't it funny how those two words go together?) and the plaza itself.  So beautiful, and so conducive to walking quietly, thoughtfully, giving one a bit of time and space to reflect.

So, that was it.  Back to the hotel, pick up the car, off to DFW, and then home.  Final verdict?  I liked Dallas, as in Dallas (not its suburbs), a lot.  I'd go back.