Exposing the seamy underside of D/FW nightlife
Welcome to the continuing saga of Flash, the column dedicated to giving you the scoop on
the babes, boys and bullshit involved in single life in Dallas. And as always, no names.
You know who you are.
Dorothy, We're Not In Kansas Anymore
We've all had those hungover mornings when you wake up and have no idea where you are.
Strange bed, strange apartment, strange city. Okay, maybe I'm the only one who's had a
morning like that.
Lately, though, I've been having these Twilight Zone moments even before I pass out. I'll
be out and suddenly start wondering exactly what planet I'm on. Because it's very clear
that the skies above Dallas's bar scene are not blue.
I've lived in LA, and traveled and partied numerous times just about everywhere else. And
I'm telling you, Dallas may be on the same planet, but it's a completely different world
than anywhere else. I can't explain it. I can only tell you that Planet Dallas is not in
this solar system.
So, as a public service to those of you wondering if the Ft. Worth tornado dropped you in
Oz, here's a handy little guide to help you figure out what planet you're drinking on.
Top Ten Ways You Know You're Out On Planet Dallas
10. You see a Dallas Cowboy with a stripper. Not the ones with wives or
fiancées, though. They would NEVER do that. Of course, I thought they weren't supposed to
do some of the other things they're doing either. At least not and stay in the league.
9. Some guy named George takes your picture. You know George. Everyone
knows George. In fact, you're probably reading this because you came to look at a picture
8. The line for the guys is longer than for the girls. Not saying
there's a lot of guys out in Dallas, but I've seen better guy/girl ratios at gay bars. Not
that I sweat the guys. Most of them are like bad sandwiches: lots of cheese, very little
meat. But a herd of Velveeta Kings drives the hotties to new watering holes.
7. The girl you just met is a stripper. Excuse me, I mean
"dancer." Oh, I'm sorry, "entertainer." Maybe the reason most bars are
guyfests is because 80% of the female population is busy dancing on the weekends.
6. You wait in line to get into an empty bar. I know they want to make
it look like it's cool for cats even when it's not, but waiting in line just to go in and
hear crickets chirping is irritating to say the least. Zubar and Milk Bar, I think you
hear me knocking. Just because it's usually crowded doesn't mean you have to make people
wait when it's not. At least let in the girls. It'll improve the guy/girl ratio.
5. You see people with a Xtra special gleam in their eye. With all the
tulips and clovers around this town, you'd think the Dallas Arboretum had moved to
Greenville Avenue. Of course, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed is the only way to deal with
certain places (Seven, Area 51).
4. You see girls wearing animal prints. Not to beat a dead horse, but if
you're going to keep wearing the damn horse, I'm going to keep beating it. At least stick
with one animal. Trust me, leopard doesn't go with zebra. You don't want to mix predators
and prey. This isn't Noah's Ark.
3. You run into your ex everywhere. Or the new person you're dating
knows your ex. Or runs into your ex. Or is stalked by your ex. Dallas may be a city of
millions, but the social scene is closer to 16 people. Six degrees of separation, my ass.
In this town it's two, tops. And don't even think of cheating, because they probably know
2. Someone asks you for a bump. True story. I'm at Milk Bar. A wasted
hotty bumps into me. Suddenly, I'm her new best friend. She proceeds to tell me that this
guy at the bar had raped her last weekend but she didn't do anything about it because she
still likes him!?! Then, without pausing, she asks if I have a bump. Trust me, if I did, I
would have done it myself to forget the whole damn conversation.
And the number one way to tell you're out on Planet D;
1. You see a rich loser with a hotty. If I had a dollar for every time I saw a rich loser
with some smoking hotty, I'd be one of those rich losers with a hotty. How do these people
meet, a personal ad? "Single white stripper seeks rich older horndog. Married okay.
Be my sugar daddy and I'll be your hootchie momma. Call 972-GOLDDIGGER." Oh, that's
right. I forgot that Dallas has a whole subculture of bars dedicated to bringing these
lovebirds together. Sipango, Sambuca, Samba, Sullivan's -- are you sensing a pattern --
Palomino, Gold Bar, Beau Nash
I'd go on, but I'm starting to feel sick.
Considering I occasionally wake up and don't know where I am, I probably missed some good
ways to tell you're out on Planet D. So please send your personal favorites to firstname.lastname@example.org.
And as always, the views expressed here don't necessarily reflect the views of anyone else
on the planet, much less US Exposed.
- Flash -