Take A Picture - It'll Last Longer

Now that the guys are back in DFW for the time being, we decided that a night out on the town was an appropriate way to celebrate and make the most of our being back together.  After dinner at Kenichi, strategically positioned to become the go-to sushi place for the trendy and ultra-rich, we were ready to have a few cocktails.  Even though I had deliberately chosen a restaurant in the middle of Plastic Dallas, I was not too excited about the prospect of what would likely become our next stop - Ghostbar.

First, a couple of notes to those that aren't "in the know."  Ghostbar is located at the top (33rd floor) of the new W Hotel.  Graced (allegedly) regularly by celebrities, it is the place to go if you are looking for a scene, or just want to be seen.

That being said, I justified our visit by noting that "this is definitely one of those places that you only go once."  I said this on the way up to the club, but I didn't mean to poo-poo on the party.  It's just not the type of place or crowd that I typically enjoy.



I immediately caught flack for throwing cold water on the white-hot excitement brought about by the imminent explosion of all things fabulous.  I'll have to admit that while I can't see myself ever setting foot in that place again, I did enjoy the experience.  It became quite obvious that no money was spared in the planning of the club's amazing lighting schemes, ultra-modern furniture, flooring, and paint schemes, and the great patio looking out over downtown Dallas.  On the surface, this was a first-class place - right down to the clientele.  Most everybody was very well dressed and expertly coiffed (I, the bearded, pearl snap shirt-clad sore thumb being a notable exception, of course) to complement the high aesthetic standards of the venue.

Though I should have known better than to look much past the surface of such a place that was obviously designed to be easy on the eyes, I couldn't help myself.  Not much of a "scenester," I was not completely won over by the skin-deep beauty of the place.  My other senses were only patient for so long.  After all, I was there to have a drink.  Surely this neon pinnacle of Dallas nightlife would offer first-class high-end products for its discerning clientele.  Not so much.

The first three vodkas and two gins that I requested (all of which can be found in any of the city's 3 or 4 star restaurants) were not to be found.  The bartender, who was nice enough but less than accommodating to my questions than I would have liked, had to ask her bar back what vodkas they had.  When I did get my drinks, they were served in plastic cups.  Though not the red frat party-esque dixie cups, they did feel incredibly cheap for a place that charges a $20 cover on the weekends.  I mean, really, did I just get the kiddy cup, or is this the stuff they serve Justin Timberlake when he visits?

So, exhausted by the sleazy old men on the prowl and the lethal saturation of uber-snobbery in the room, we hit the road after one round.

I'm just incredibly more comfortable in Adair's, the Elbow Room, Milo's, Amsterdam Bar, etc.  No doubt we all do our share of pretending to be something that we're not, and perhaps if/when I have the means to frequent places like Ghostbar I'll understand why it exists.  But I'm just incredibly more comfortable in a place that's dark, smokey, and filled with crashing billiard balls and people of all ages and backgrounds shouting "Sweet Caroline" as loud as they wish.

You can keep your unblemished and surgically-enhanced go-go dancer cocktail servers and bartenders, I'll take the friendly and "average" looking server that shakes my hand when I walk in.

Things Learned on Those Nights When I Just Wasn't Ready to Go Home

As a waiter, I usually don't get to have much of a "nightlife." If I do go out after work, I usually don't get wherever I'm going until after midnight. Since it's hard to squeeze a full night's worth of fun into two hours, I've discovered several places that are more than happy to take my money until the wee hours of the morn.' Here are a few of the life lessons and observations made possible exclusively by such establishments:

1. It's ok to make friends with the giant Hispanic dude at the pool table, just don't put money on the game. It's probably not his first time to hold a cue stick.

2. Just because the young and agile black guy makes the Usher-esque moves easy doesn't mean that they are. When everyone clears away from the middle of the dance floor, it's not for you. Stay away, whitey.

3. If you happened to forget to wear underwear or some other important garment, don't bother feigning modesty. We're not buying it.

4. If three women are dressed alike, it was most likely the more attractive woman's idea. She knows that she's likely to come out ahead in the inevitable comparisons.

5. Somehow, Bud Light just tastes better out of a styrofoam cup. After 2 am. For $5.

6. It's ok if you feel safer in clubs that require a good old fashioned pat-down prior to entry. Just don't try to joke with the guy giving them out. He's usually not in the mood.

7. If ever offered a cocktail made with beer, lime juice, and a "secret family recipe" don't be tempted. It's a waste of a good beer (or two).

8. The repercussions of the "Beware of Mexican Food After 9" rule double after 2. And again after 4.

9. Long line outside + $15 cover + crazy trance music + only $6 Red Bulls to drink = check please.

10. You're much better off just grabbing a bite at Cafe Brazil, Cuquitas, Los Arcos, or the Metro Diner and going home. Save it for next time.

Looking for Trees, Waiting for My Forest

So, just because I haven't posted in a while doesn't mean that I haven't been writing. Lately, I've been starting pieces that I thought would be posts, only to find them incredibly too long, too personal, or just very poorly written. I think that I just experienced some clarity that, if I can stay on task long enough to write about it, might just make sense.


As I look forward to my official Peace Corps invitation, I've been giving some serious thought about all of the other experiences/adventures that I'd like to check off of the list. I have a life list, but that's not exactly what I'm talking about. I'm talking more about those experiences that, when you're older and perhaps in the middle of some sort of career, you can look back and smile knowingly. You know that it was these experiences, these singular opportunities that you took full advantage of, that made you into the person that you had become.

Though my life to this point hasn't exactly exemplified such an attitude, I see myself as someone who needs to go, see, and experience. I'm beginning to look at life more as a collection of experiences than a progression of them. Rather than embarking on adventure/stage/step "A," simply because it logically and necessarily leads to adventure/stage/step "B," for example, I'd like to see what "R," "F," or "Q" are like. That is to say, there are numerous experiences that I'd like to have, and I no longer feel as though they have to fit into some neat little steps-to-prepare-me-for-a-career box. When I do discover what it is exactly I want to do, I will no doubt look back and appreciate the role that these various experiences played in getting me there, but the means may not make alot of sense until the end is realized.

The "clarity" that I referred to was from a quote from an article about Leslie Feist, known simply as Feist to most people. When discussing the way her career just sprang up and took off rather organically with the success of her track "Mushaboom," and where her life might lead, she simply said "I'm looking for the trees. I'm waiting to find my little forest somewhere, and I just haven't figured out where it's going to be yet." I love the way that she turns the whole "not seeing the forest for the trees" saying on its face. I'm trying to appreciate and make the most of the trees, knowing that in time they will make up my little forest.