It was hot. Hot. I was melting all weekend. I felt like a character in a kid's show where the characters live in an oven. Which is inside another, hotter oven, suspended over an open oil fire. In hell.
The worst part?
This was a mild weekend in Dallas. Temperatures were "only" 99 degrees. Whereas temperatures of that sort trigger a weather emergency here in Boston -- where they open up cooling centers so that people don't literally die -- in Texas this qualifies as a gorgeous weekend. Not just a gorgeous weekend, but the very best weekend of the year.
Most of the weekend included conversations that went a little like this:
Guy in Elevator: Man, this is some nice weather we're having, isn't it?
Me: (Dripping sweat from a 50-yard walk in the shade) I'm sorry?
Him: It's just so nice. This is the kind of day you just spend outside.
Me: (Staring at mirror and wondering at the pattern that is created on a shirt when you sweat from every available pore) Outside?
Him: Yeah, man. I wish every day was like this.
Me: Yeah, for sure. (Chugs gallon of water).
No wonder there are no sidewalks. More than two minutes outside and I could feel myself slowly roasting, enough so that at the steakhouse I asked, for the first time ever, for a baked potato without butter, just because I was so, so afraid of ending up like this.
Other than the weather, Dallas is actually pretty nice. And the girls, well, they're also pretty nice. My brother and I went for a walk through the SMU campus, which, if I understand correctly, is attended almost exclusively by rich daddy's girls. As we walked through the quad, my brother and I played a game. It was called, "Find an ugly girl." We both lost, which means everybody wins. Especially guys who go to SMU.
A visit to the site of the JFK assassination created the following two thoughts: 1) That's really not that tough a shot. And 2) I wonder if JFK was sweating as much as I did when he was in that car. Yes, it was November, but that means it was probably only 94 degrees then. Still, probably not. I tried to think more poignant thoughts, but it's tough to do when you can feel your brain cooking inside your skull.
Perhaps most striking was a visit to the Cowboys' new stadium. There was no game, but we were permitted to approach and go into the structure, including the field and locker room, where I did my best Tony Romo impression. In any case, the stadium looks like a spaceship that landed in the middle of Arlington, if the aliens who drove that spaceship liked oversized rims, 4-inch belt buckles, and diamond studs in their ears. It is impressive the way an H3 is impressive. I couldn't help but think of the Titanic and the lessons it taught us.
All in all, Texas was terrific, a nice break and wholly different experience from life up here in the Northeast.
In fact, if I could sum up Texas in one image -- if I can encapsulate all its glory in one blow -- I would leave you with this: My brother's girlfriend -- all 5'2'', 100 pounds of her -- drives the biggest friggin' pick-up truck you ever saw. The biggest. It is enormous. It is hilarious and kind of awesome. It is Texas.
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