Friday Fling

Unlike in the Eagles song Hotel California, "where you can check out anytime you like - but you can never leave"; at Elvis' Heartbreak Hotel, you can leave.  In fact, in our Heartbreak Hotel experience at the Ft. Worth Hilton (see: Heartbreak Hotel, April 2011) we never really did check in, but we did leave (and in a huff).  Then, after a late dinner, we returned to Dallas that Thursday night.

Getting up Friday morning from our own bed, somewhat late, we opted to have a 'staycation' in Dallas, rather than visit the attractions in Ft Worth, as was our original Friday plans.  For something new, we decided to visit a section of Dallas that we had never seen before, North Oak Cliff neighborhood.  NOC is on the south bank of the Trinity River and has many homes an businesses that date back to the early 20th Century, and has developed an identity as a somewhat bohemian community replete with small restaurants and art galleries clustered in the 'Bishop Arts District'.

We lunched at bodega Bolsa on their patio and sipped pinot noir alongside our sandwiches.  We then wandered into the the Bishop Arts District and ducked into many of the shops, and as usual, scratched our heads wondering how these galleries make a go of it selling chihuahua skeletons with feathers tied to the bones (List Price: $575).  Should the proprietor try and interest me in a purchase, I might tell him: "You know I just LOVE what is being done with this piece! I admire the bold statements and subtle perception that is brought out in art - but to be honest, the chihuahua skeleton just doesn't bring what I need to tie everything in my bedroom together."

Now for something more in-line with most people's taste; we walked a few blocks and opened the door to the chocolatier, Dude, Sweet Chocolate.  Free samples for all who enter.  We tried their unusual 'earthy offering' that included mushrooms with the chocolate toffee and other more prosaic concoctions and opted to buy a box of chocolates with a variety of unusual center fillings.  We do not need a host from the Heartbreak Hotel to put little chocolates on our pillow, we can now do it ourselves.  After chocolates, it was a mid-afternoon snack stop at the Greek Cafe.  Iced tea and baklava for each.

Just as we sat down for our snack, Sue's phone rang; it was a stressed and harangued friend who was upset and about to quit her job and she needed to talk.  Sue disappeared out the cafe door to take the call outside.  After awhile the proprietor came by and inquired, "Where did your wife go?"  I shrugged.  He then proceeded to tell me about how he had big fight that morning with his wife, only to get a call from her later informing him that she was in the hospital (as the story unfolded, she was in for a scheduled routine check up).  I listened as best I could to his story, related in a thick Greek accent exacerbated by the flopping of his dentures.  Now I was enjoying a classic Greek snack and a classic Greek tragedy.  Both finished upon Sue's return.

By afternoon, the wind-whipped sky had turned to a murky, pink-tinged gray.  The strong wind gusts of up to 50 mph had blown in the red dust from West Texas along with smoke from several large brush fires 70-100 miles north and west of the DFW Metroplex.  The local news reported that evening that the Main Street Arts Festival in Ft Worth had been closed down over several blocks as the wind ripping through the downtown canyon and shredded several exhibitor's canvas booths and sent art pieces flying.  Maybe hanging around Ft Worth that day was not all we thought it was cracked up to be.