Day 121 - Not So Raw Hide

Author – Grant
From – Austin, Texas
To – Grand Prairie, Texas (15 miles from Dallas and 25 miles from Fort Worth)
Via – Waco, Texas
Miles Driven - 201

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157614846840750/

It was kind of sad to say goodbye to Austin on the morning of Day 122 (wow, have we really been on the road for four months?) as the place has treated us really well with a great mix of nice daytime outdoorsy stuff and vibrant nightlife all set in a casual and kooky wrapper. Maybe sad isn’t the right word – it’s just tough to leave somewhere good as it’s a bit of a lottery whether the town around the next corner will be an Austin or a Rochester…

Still, leave we must else we’ll never get to wherever it is that we’re trying to get to…which still hasn’t quite been decided. What we do know, however, is that we’re currently heading North towards Dallas and Fort Worth. Today’s drive was a four hour affair which means that the map needs studying to see if there’s somewhere interesting that we can stop off for lunch. Usually that means trying to find something scenic but the backdrop to today’s sandwich was the sight of a massacre instead because nothing stimulates the appetite like mass murder. As per most places we visit, our knowledge of the exact details surrounding the Waco Massacre were sketchy at best. Kate thought it was the site of a mass cult suicide and I thought it was Michael Jackson’s birthplace but it turns out the truth is more disturbing than either of those scenarios. Scumbag David Koresh managed to convince a bunch of people to donate all their money to him and live in a compound where he alone could procreate with their wives and accumulate a frightening arsenal of weapons. It all came to a head when the FBI arrived, had four of their officers shot dead in a gunfire exchange resulting in a 51 day siege of the compound which ended with a suicidal fire started by the cult members killing 76 people. In respect of their sacrifice, I didn’t have my Subway sandwich toasted today.

Not much to report for the rest of the day as we arrived in Grand Prairie a bit too late to do any sightseeing before the sun dropped behind the never-ending strip mall. Instead we held tight until nightfall to venture out for the regular nightly sustenance of food and booze. Despite being just over 30 miles apart, apparently Dallas and Fort Worth are as similar as Arnie and Danny DeVito with Dallas being an ultra modern city second only to LA in the number of boob jobs on display whilst Fort Worth is a much smaller place more closely linked with the Texas portrayed in Cowboy films of yesteryear. So when faced with the choice of venue for that night’s festivities, clearly our tourist radars went into overdrive and we headed to The Stockyards area of Fort Worth which is a replica Texan high street containing saloons, cowboy clothing stores and even a twice daily cattle drive which, thankfully, we’ll not catch. The weird thing about this tourist mecca is that it looks like it is happily frequented by people that actually wear plaid shirts, cowboy hats and boots as a matter of course rather than because they are on a bachelor party which added a mild sense of legitimacy to the evening.

We ended up choosing to eat at H3 which seemed ram-packed with the aforementioned cowboy and girl replicas all looking like they had contented bellies. What we didn’t notice was that they were all in food coma, a state we were going to hit just 60 minutes later. After a shared starter of pulled pork covered nachos, we ordered a couple of steaks which were clearly the house speciality. Unfortunately these steaks are preceded by a couple of hefty bowls of dressing drenched salads and a baby’s head sized loaf of a cross between bread and cornbread that was glistening with an oil/butter combo. Knowing the size of the steaks we had ordered, I admit that we should have laid off the sides but surely it’s impossible to resist glistening bread which, in the right light, actually looks like it is winking at you. Kate’s 9oz tenderloin steak was pretty tasty despite the lack of fat and surprisingly tender given her insistence on ordering it medium-well and my whopping 18oz bone-in rib-eye resembled a cross between an otter’s tail and a child’s tennis racquet and, despite being cooked medium rather than my preferred medium rare, it was really well seasoned and its higher fat content meant that it oozed with flavour. The loaded baked potato on the side wasn’t really needed but also got devoured nevertheless. Clearly the near-dead expression on our faces prompted the waiter to bring the check without even offering dessert.

What followed reminded us that we are British and would never feel truly at home in Texas or possibly anywhere in the US unless we lose these accents…which, please god, is never gong to happen. The waiter, clearly spooked by our nationality’s tendency not to tip, mentioned about four times that the bill did not include the gratuity and going as far as offering to add it on himself if we would like. I guess that’s the downside of hanging around touristy joints and I know he’s only rightfully protecting his income but it’s still a bit annoying. Despite being hideously full, we did legitimately try to go on for a couple of beers but after being lobbed out of the second private party we had unwittingly tried to gatecrash (I did wonder why mine was the only head un cowboy-hatted and Kate’s were the only boobs completely covered on entering this particular bar), we gave in and headed home to concentrate on some serious digesting.

Tomorrow we head into Fort Worth’s evil brother, Dallas for some morbid sightseeing as everything seems to revolve around JFK’s assassination. Sounds cheery.