Volume 5: Pete in the USA Part 6. A young balding mans journey through 20 something states and back
Day 11 – Dallas
The day begun with a tour of Texas Stadium, home of the Dallas Cowboys. Me, being the classic armchair athlete, who had seen a lot of American Football growing up (before those bastards of pay-tv robbed me of the privilege) with the Dallas running back Emit Smith being one of my favourite players, made the experience all the more special. Once inside the stadium, we took a tour that included the corporate boxes, the locker rooms, and the playing surface. The Texas Stadium roof is somewhat unique, in that it looks like they were trying to build a dome but ran out of money in the latter stages of construction, so they just left the hole there. Which according to the bloke giving the tour (or more correctly, the skinny nerd who, ironically, most likely spent his high school years getting the crap beat out of him by football player jocks) was one of the legends behind the unique design. Another legend was that they left the roof open so that God could watch his favourite team play. Which I’m sure is true, as an entity so powerful that it can create a universe doesn’t have enough skill to see through large steal structures. My attempt to take a great picture of me running down the tunnel onto the playing surface with me holding a football and doing the “I’m number 1” thing with my other hand unfortunately didn’t work out due to poor lighting. The tour finished with us being allowed onto the playing surface and throwing American footballs around. As Gav had bought his Aussie Rules football along, we did a bit of a culture exchange and kicked that football around on the playing surface. I got a picture of me doing my touchdown dance in the end zone and left at the end of tour a very content man.
From there we headed back into the city and to the 6th floor book depository JFK museum. I learnt some interesting facts inside. Like the gun fired from the book depository only cost $12.98 (and I suppose plus tax, so probably $13.76). Unfortunately, they didn’t tell us the cost of the firearm that was used from the grassy knoll, but judging by the dent it left in JFK’s head it cost more than $12.98. There was also a quote on one of the displays from someone, whose name escapes me, that went along the lines of “Early death is the most powerful tool a politician can use to gain popularity”. It was a technique I wished all politicians would use in future election campaigns. But the most memorable thing for me about the museum was that it had a “Check your guns” sign at the entrance, if only they’d put that sign up in 1963.
After completing the tour we headed down onto the road where JFK’s car was on that tragic day in 1963. In a nice gesture, the city of Dallas have painted a black cross on the exact spot on the road so you can get your picture taken on the exact spot JFK had his brains blown into the back seat of his car. So naturally, I ran onto the road, pointed to the 6th floor and the grassy knoll, got a picture taken of me, and then ran to avoid the on coming traffic. I don’t know how many stupid tourists are run over on that road each year trying to do the same thing, but I’m tipping it’s in the double digits.
Whilst standing in the small grassed area on the opposite side of the road of the grassy knoll trying to put together the pieces of the mystery of the 2nd gunmen, some over tanned gay guy and a camera crew for the I’m sure soon to be cancelled TV show “Ambush Makeover” approached fellow tourer Angela and asked her to appear on the show. The premise of the show is that they take ugly chicks off the street and within a day make them over to be hotties. Given that Angela was already an attractive lass, I was starting to find the show stupider by the minute. It would have been like having a show called “Ambush Rembrandt”, where a film crew went out and filmed people “making improvements” to his art, like painting clown faces on all the people in a picture. Stupid.
Anyway, today was a hot day, made all the worse by no wind, so we decided to head back to the hotel in the afternoon to cool off. It was on the walk back to the hotel that I discovered another JP John Denver moment. On the bus ride into the city he’d said “people say Dallas is a clean city”. I couldn’t help but think BULLSHIT! as I walked through a car park scattered with thrown away cans.
The itinerary for the night was dinner at Joe’s Crab Shack (I informed Joe there’s a treatment you can get for that) followed by a baseball game. That itinerary was to see the full game of baseball, but over tanned gay guy still was in possession of Angela so the bus had to wait for him and his awesome concept of a show to reach the restaurant before we could go. It was when he and his team reached the restaurant that I learnt the amount of planning that goes into looking spontaneous on TV. Some other gay guy, this one in a cowboy hat, and other bozos arrived at the restaurant about 10 minutes before Angela (coincidentally the number of minutes we were now late in heading out to the baseball) to tell us how to look surprised. JP actually earned his $2 that day by letting the camera crew know just how unimpressed he was with the delay. Myself, I wanted to test out the right to bear firearms part of the US constitution and see what the threat of a gun to gay cowboy guy’s head might have in getting him to pull his finger out (although he was probably enjoying that) and hurry up this planned spontaneity of seeing Angela. She eventually turned up, we all shouted stuff like “you look hot” and “what a fox” before leaving for the baseball game at least 20 minutes late.
At the baseball, I discovered the game was a lot like cricket; just a reason to sit around and drink beer. One of the benefits of such a slow game is that you can leave your seat and get a beer and be comfortable in the knowledge you haven’t missed any of the action. Our $6 seats were positioned in the outfield behind the pitcher, and were surprisingly good given the price of the ticket and the fact JP had suggested they would be good. I purchased many a beer that night, with the same bloke serving me each time. It was only after I’d shown my passport 3 or 4 times that he finally accepted I was of legal age and I could finally buy a beer without having to show ID. The first time he served me I showed him my Victorian drivers license, which judging by the look on his face it was like I was showing him ID for a far off mystical made up place. Apparently he’d never heard of Victoria, Australia, so it was time to dig out my passport to prove I wasn’t trying to use a fake ID.
After the game, the night finished with a room gathering. Given there was no alcohol it was only 1 level above tea and scrabble so I gave up and went to bed around 2am.
Day 12 – Dallas to Memphis
The first stop today was in Texarkana, with the state line between Texas and Arkansas running down the middle of a road. It helped show some of the oddities that can happen when different states set different laws which has confused me since I was young and first learned that such oddities could happen when my family crossed the border between Victoria and NSW. As the state line ran straight down the particular street we were on, the oddities seemed more pronounced. On one side of the street the liquor stores closed at 6pm, whilst on the other side they closed at 9pm. On one side of the street you could buy lotto tickets, whilst on the other side you couldn’t. Thankfully, the right to bear firearms was in the constitution so that was nationally binding so you could buy your guns on either side of the street.
Gav and I got the typically stupid tourist picture of us arm wrestling across the Stateline, with me representing Arkansas and Gav representing Texas. From there we wandered across to the Little Rock Capitol building, the place where Bill Clinton first started “polling the electorate”. I had a quick look in the Governors room, which had mostly polished floorboards with a few rugs. There appeared to be no love stains on the rugs so I was beginning to wonder if Bill Clinton had actually spent any time in that office. But the highlight of the day for me in the Capitol building was a portrait of a former Governor who had an eye patch. You’ve got to respect people who will elect someone based on what they will bring to the job, even if that person just happens to look like a pirate.
After lunch we were back on the road again heading to Memphis. Memphis is of course the home of Blues music, the Memphis Belle and shitty people. It has a 65% black population due to the fact if was one of the first cities captured by the North during the civil war and not torched. Which is a shame because its full of assholes. Big Sam had asked a local where he could find a local sports store and was essentially told to bugger off. When he asked another local where the basketball stadium that their NBA team played was, he received similar treatment. My experiences were quite similar. In the south I had come to expect slow service, but at least with a smile and a “Where y’all from?”. In Memphis it’s more like “Here’s your change, now go fuck yourself!”.
Dinner that night was spent at an Elvis theme restaurant. I sat next to aussie Victoria who informed me Jamie (a generally amusing fellow who always wore the same FBI cap and whom I thought was gay until I found out he hooked up with Danielle) had accused her of flirting too much earlier. I spent the night seeing her flirt and raising with an excessive flirt. At the time I just saw it as harmless and was having fun.
The after dinner entertainment took place at a bar with karaoke. I knew I’d love the place when I was told if we paid $10 on entry we wouldn’t have to pay for a beer all night. Somebody upstairs likes me. I sang karaoke with Danielle and a separate song with Amy. There were some technical difficulties during my one night only exclusive show with Danielle. Before the song could be queued up, I naturally went into the reflex action of human beat boxing on the mic. The chick responsible for the music must have thought I was a Gangsta rapper and didn’t “want any sh*t to go down” so she turned my mic off. Then when she finally kicked off the song, I got you babe, Danielle’s mic wasn’t working so we had to share the same mic. For those fully familiar with the song, i.e. not me, the chick is supposed to sing a couple of lines, followed by the bloke singing a couple of lines. Me, having tried to exploit the $10 all you could drink beer fee by trying to drink around $1000 worth of beer went about trying to sing every line of the song. It was only after a quiet word in my ear from Danielle (which was quite impressive given I was almost asphyxiating her as my initial attempt to grab her in close to my mic was now slipping into something just short of a headlock) her chance to shine on the mic was realised and I let her sing the chick’s lines.
Danielle, before the misplaced hug led to a headlock, so she's still conscious in this picture
The night was almost a little depressing, in that a number of the locals, including the chick that was responsible for the karaoke machine, got up and sung 5 or 6 songs in attempt to be discovered. Discovered by whom I’m not quite sure because I’m tipping if I was a record company executive I wouldn’t be spending my time hanging out at a karaoke venue looking for the next Alicia Keys. Also, the fact that they could actually sing properly goes against the entire philosophy of karaoke in that it was a forum created for drunks who can’t sing. I some how finished the night slow dancing with Phillipa (known as Flipper). That got the people talking, but given I was in a state that only comes from trying to exploit a $10 all you can drink offer I didn’t care.
As for Big Sam, he’s night finished by enjoying more of the warm and charming people of Memphis. He had a gun pointed at his head after asking some bloke for weed or asking him the time (okay I made up the latter one, but it seems realistic given the great number of assholes that make up Memphis). Big Sam had asked some fine upstanding local if he could get him $15 worth of weed, the fine upstanding local then took him into an alley and pointed a gun at his head and took his $15. Big Sam was understandably freaked out by the fact he’d almost lost his life for the princely sum of $15 (sounds even less when you convert it back to English pounds) so some of the chicks on tour tried to contact JP to inform him. I don’t know what they expected him to do, but JP in keeping with earning his $2 tip was wasn’t contactable.
As for me, that all went on while I drifted off to sleep at around 3am.
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