I love old cities.
My friend Amanda picked up: Hey, Jo. What’s up?
Me: Hey. so. um. If I don’t call you back in half an hour, call me. Ok?
Amanda, laughing: What are you doing? Are you about to go down a dark alley?
Me: Well, it’s broad daylight here, but yeah, something like that. Sorta.
Amanda, not laughing: O. K. Don’t get killed.
Me: I’ll let you know. Call you later.
+ + +
This is not how I usually do things. I’m a planner. I’m not really so much of a risk taker. I had called the taxi company. I had made a plan. But everything is bigger in Texas. Apparently they mean it.
The evening had started off innocently enough. I was in Dallas for a conference and I wanted a little down time. I needed to get outside the hotel, which was also the conference center, which was also the restaurant, which was also the gym. When I travel, I look up two things: arts events and baseball games.
Dallas has a vibrant scene in both quarters. That night I was headed to the Texas Rangers game. I have been to about a dozen Major League ballparks and they are usually pretty easy to get at.
Dallas and Fort Worth are like two cities connected by an 18-mile length of barbell pipe called I-30. Along this same section runs the TRE light rail. About halfway between (in the middle of a giant parking lot), is a train station that is only about three miles from the ballpark. That is as close as one can get on public transit. From there I had planned to call for a taxi and I had checked with the dispatcher and this would be easy, quick, and should only cost me $17.
I was told my taxi would arrive in about ten minutes. About two minutes later I received a text message saying that
Here’s the thing. I have two awesome cats and I really don’t want to get rid them. You are actually lucky that I am even offering these cats to you, so any emotion less than gratitude is honestly going to be offensive.
Here’s the first Cat, her name is Emma. She was named after Bon Iver’s album…