Wonderlust

Not really one of my better stories, but when I first moved to Dallas, I would on occasion go out drinking with my co-workers. At that time, I walked to work nearly every day, so I didn't drive to happy hour, but rather would hitch a ride with a friend. One night, some people decided to go to a bar on Knox-Henderson, way out of my striking distance on foot, or so I thought.

A couple of Maredsous later, I decide that I need to get home to my wife. Nobody in the bar really looked interested in leaving, so I slipped out of a side door. On a side note, Dallas is not an easy town to navigate. It is a quiltwork of grids that each face a different direction and it is very easy to get turned around, or think that you're headed in the right direction when that may in fact not be the case. Luckily for me, Highway 75 was near by and easy enough to find.

After stumbling, somewhat intoxicated, across a couple of heavily trafficked intersections, I decide that I need to get my ass on a train. Regrettably, there is no train station anywhere nearby, so I start walking south along the highway, knowing that I would eventually come accross Cityplace. Though my recollection of the proceding events are hazed by my state of sobriety or lack thereof, I believe that I walk about as far as I can stand and notice a McDonalds, and damnit, I want some Chicken McNuggets! I go in and have my fill, and then contemplate calling my wife for a ride home. That would have been the rational thing to do, especially given my state. However, greater forces prevailed and I decide to resume my journey.

I finally reach Cityplace and begin my descent underground to the station. I can't help but notice unsavory looking characters hanging around, sleeping on steps or park benches. But I was drunk, and probably thought I could take them in a fight if I had to. This is where things got a little confusing.

I never actually recall getting on the train. A rare blackout for me. The next thing I remember is being jarred awake by jerky stop at the Pearl Street station. Personally I thank God for the clarity in that moment, for the wisdom to disembark the train there, and not somewhere past Union Station. I step out and look around, being the architect I look up (naturally) and see the Adams Mark Hotel. Where the hell am I? I picked a direction and started to walk. Luckily, I saw a bright lit square upon the One Arts Building and was able to find my way back to the apartment. My wife was shocked at my stupidity. In retrospect, so am I.

Comments