As the train wobbles out of Cleburne, Texas, I take advantage of the first chance I’ve had to write since arriving in this state three days ago. I’m on my way from Dallas to Austin, where I’ll meet my couchsurfing host this evening.
Dallas was a whirlwind of sightseeing, off-the-wall occurrences, grand showmanship, friendly new faces, and one familiar one. I landed around dinner time on Tuesday and left at lunch on Friday. In between those meals, I got a good taste of the city. When my plane landed, my friend’s roommate, Paul, picked me up and drove me to his little haunt in Lakewood, a district on the northeast edge of Dallas. My friend, Brian, was away at an MBA class when we arrived, so Paul rounded up some of his friends for some Tex-Mex. I was planning to pick up Paul’s tab as payment for his airport chauffeur service, but he quickly told the waitress to put my bill on his. He said it was the least he could do, since he was late to pick me up. I laughed and thanked him and said I was just glad he picked me up at all.
Over the next couple of days, I met more of Brian’s friends, most of whom he knows through his church. Each of them was just as kind and hospitable as Paul. Much of my time was spent with Brian and this group, and I never felt left out or bored.
One thing that kept us busy was the exploding farmers market. Late Wednesday night, after a few of us returned home from the gelato shop, Brian’s friend Steven got a text. A TV show was filming near downtown earlier that evening, and the crew had blown up a bunch of produce stands. The food was left there, much of it intact, and was free to any interested takers. Five of us piled into Brian’s car and headed out. A half hour later, we returned with boxes and shopping bags full of enough poblano peppers, tomatillos, watermelons and apples to feed the apartment complex for a couple weeks. It made for an entertaining and unusual end to a day that was otherwise quintessentially Dallas.
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