After days in the desert, I approach Dallas wired on coffee and high expectations. The city is big and colorful and alive. I drop my stuff with a friend near Victory Park and set out to have a big time here. I have 24 hours. It goes something like this....
-Tex Mex lunch in Uptown among well-heeled bankers, accountants, lawyers. Outside tables are packed. The day's a beauty.
-A long walk down McKinney, passing fly-fishing shops, Primo's, freshly-minted condos, pretty girls in boots.
-Spend some time at the 16th floor pool deck at the W (I'm sneaking not staying) looking out on the skyline and suburbs. The temp and breeze are perfect complements to one another. It strikes me that this would be a nice place to hang my hat for a while.
-Bud Lights and Blue Moons with locals (Scott and Machir, each representative of the young, classy, educated population here; each ambitious and busy, but quick lean back and enjoy the beer and the company).
-Dinner at an outdoor table on Thomas Ave, watching the young and affluent mingle and flirt and work their blackberries and cheer on the Mavericks (Nowitzki wins it at the buzzer, place erupts).
-The Loon, where I realize I've been in California so long that I've forgotten the joys of a smoke-filled bar. Despite the initial discomfort, the aura is suspending. I nestle in, catch up with old friends, make a few new ones. I start off drinking rum, and after some awkward looks, graduate to whiskey.
I awake at 11am, having drank too much, slept too little, and having to be in Houston in five hours. I splash some water in my face, grab a jolt, and soon I'm southbound, I-45. Big, bold Dallas in the rearview.
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