Texan in Training

“Yeah, but you’re gonna hate the humidity,” they’d say.

“You’re not really serious about Texas, are you?” some would ask.

“You know you’re gonna be back, right? It’s just gonna be another Wyoming!” one especially delightful individual predicted.

And my favorite reaction was from an older coworker, who stopped me mid-sentence by simply screaming, “TEXAS?!”

Maybe they have some of the same misconceptions about Texas that I had. I’ll admit; I was expecting to find dusty little towns riddled with tumbleweeds, rattlers, stains from spitting tobacco, and skittering armadillos. I expected the nightlife to be non-existent unless you were willing to scoot and/or boogie your boots – and owned said pair of boots.

I knew that Texans were proud of their state. I knew that pride extended into most aspects of Texas, including the state’s unique shape. I assumed I’d see some Texas-shaped refrigerator magnets, clocks, maybe even a chicken-fried steak cut out to look like the state.

To my surprise, the first display of this shape-oriented pride was found in a tattoo on the back of some guy’s neck. He was covered in tattoos, and looked like someone you’d mosh with at the Warped Tour – not your “average” Texan. But, there he was in the DFW airport, full sleeves on both arms and the outline of Texas centered on the back of his neck.

We got outside and I immediately felt the humidity. It was hot, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t unbearable. In fact, we were all astonished when the thermometer in the car registered 103.

“I doesn’t feel that hot!!” we all kept saying. We continued to marvel at how much “softer” the heat in Texas is.

I tried to describe it several times, but couldn’t. I continued to reach by saying things like, “It’s sort of like the heat is wrapping you up instead of beating down on you.”

The truth is, I loved having some extra moisture with my heat. The doctor who did my laser eye surgery told me I had clogged tear ducts. I go though artificial tears like crazy and ALWAYS have red eyes. They seem to burn constantly. But by day two in Texas, I still hadn’t used any drops. I don’t know if it was the moisture, the air quality, or both, but I immediately noticed a huge improvement. By day four you could actually see the whites of my eyes! I was so excited. Imagine my disappointment when arriving back in Utah and feeling them burn on the way back from the airport.

On a side note, while we were driving my sister in law (who had come to pick us up) asked, “So, did you have any tornados down there?”

Without missing a beat, Jenny let her too-rarely-used smartass flag fly and said, “No. Did you have any earthquakes up here?” It was fantastic. I friggin’ love that woman.

Anyway, back to the trip itself, we’d gone down with several objectives. We wanted to feel the heat. We wanted to walk around in the city and drive the phallic interstates (look at a map of the roads between Dallas and Fort Worth and you’ll get that one). We wanted to eat the food. And, more than anything, we wanted to meet the people.

You always hear about how friendly they are in Texas. I was curious. Growing up in Utah, I’d spent my entire life around plenty of people acting the way a nice person would. We’d gotten a real taste of some genuine, down-to-earth people in Florida, Indiana and especially Wyoming. Texas had its work cut out for it.

On the first night, the girl at the checkout counter smiled and said, “Have a real great night, Y’all.” It was wonderful. She really meant it! It wasn’t like the way I normally say it – generic and bland. She actually wanted us to have a great night! Side note: this was not a redneck, “hick” girl. She had a cool little grunge, hippy look going. Nevertheless, the “Y’all” still sounded as natural as could be.

In the restaurants, they smiled at us and asked us to take our time. We never felt rushed. They were genuinely grateful for their tips and nearly all of them treated us like we’d been invited to eat in their home. Amazingly hospitable people.

While walking in the Stockyards (an actual “western” touristy section just outside of Fort Worth) we really put the “friendly” claim to test.

I was pushing Emma in her stroller. We were walking past a biker bar and three guys were standing outside on the sidewalk, sipping beer and shootin’ the shit. I have no stereotype against “bikers” but I think they pride themselves on being a somewhat rowdy bunch. They have never stricken me as “mean” or “violent” by nature. Then again, these guys were big (like three, three-fitty kinda BIG) and I wasn’t about to try to push my way through. The curb was steep so going around was going to be a chore.

One of the guys leaning against the building noticed us and smiled at Emma. His hand shot out, grasping a fistful of the other guy’s shirt. He yanked him off of the sidewalk and bellowed, “Get out the way and let this beautiful little princess pass!”

They smiled at us and waved at her. The one who’d been in the way looked at her and said, “Yup! I spect she’d run me right over!”

Here are three rough-n-tumble bikers talking to my daughter like southern women on their way home from church. I loved it. I couldn’t get enough of it.

We made friends everywhere we went. We chatted with people in the stores, at the burger joints, on the way to the Titans-Cowboys game, during the game, and on the way home from the game. We were hooked in no time.

Utah has some great things to offer. More than anything it’s home to most of our favorite people. We really do wish we could take you all with us. If you decide to stay in the beehive state – as they say in Texas – “Yawn yoan!” But, hey, who knows, maybe with enough time we’ll be able to talk you into visiting. If you do, you might also fall in love and want to just turn your vacation into a staycation.