Ron's View - Arlington, Texas
We rolled into Arlington, Texas in 1992 on the tail end of an adventurous journey that took us from Beale Street in Memphis, through Bourbon Street in New Orleans, and Houston to see the Astros. All the while, we were outrunning Hurricane Andrew, who wreaked much havoc in Florida on his way through the Gulf States. As we prepared to leave New Orleans, the town was preparing for a direct hit by boarding up store windows. Many folks packed as many belongings as possible into their vehicles and headed west on Interstate 10, just as we did. As we passed through Lake Charles, LA, I couldn't help thinking of "The Grapes Of Wrath" as a steady procession of cars, pick-ups, and vans bulging over with personal effects headed west in search of the promised land. In this case, the promised land was any spot safely out of the deadly grasp of Andrew. Fortunately, we had the forethought to make motel reservations ahead of time for the entire trip. I'm sure many of these poor people were forced to sleep in their vehicles.
Having tickets to 2 consecutive Rangers games at Arlington Stadium, it gave us plenty of time to explore the many diverse attractions in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. I had been to Dealey Plaza before with my wife Diane, but even on the second visit, I couldn't control the shivers going down my back as I stood on the infamous grassy knoll and saw with my own eyes a scene I've watched countless times on television. This time the newly opened 6th Floor museum was able to be toured. For those of you that haven't taken this tour, I highly recommend it. I can only compare it to the feeling I get when visiting the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C.
Having gotten our fill of history, and a full tummy of food and beer at Dallas' Westend party district, it was time to head to the ballyard. Nolan Ryan was starting for the Rangers!
Just watching this legendary player going through his pregame warm up routine was awe inspiring. He wound up pitching a fairly non-descript game, notching a no decision. But the experience of seeing him pitch in front of his home state crowd was more than enjoyable enough.
Game two the next day had us focusing our efforts in other areas. Our buddy Brian Hopkins was just beginning his vacation, and he also made the pilgrimage from Chicago to Dallas. We had chosen to meet up about 3 hours before game time at Bobby Valentine’s Sports Bar, which was located just north of the I30 cloverleaf interchange from Arlington Stadium. This began one of those ever so frequent nights of over imbibing. We got well lubricated in those 3 hours, then made the short trek to see the game. I can't recall a single thing that happened between the white lines during the game, I just recall tons of laughter between friends, and gallons of beer being downed.
I suppose that the game ended, and we noticed that fact sometime later, but it was only 10 p.m. or so. Time to go back to Bobby Valentine's!! I was the chosen driver, but all I had to do was cross that cloverleaf interchange and we'd be there. Somehow, my circuitous route involved driving all 4 of those on/off ramps, but we got there unscathed.
After quaffing many more beers, and because it was closing time, we decided it was time to leave. For those who imbibe late into the evening, we all know what happens at closing time. EXTREME HUNGER! "How fortunate", said Scott as he noticed the glowing yellow sign of a Waffle House restaurant across the parking lot. That's when another closing time event happened. EXTREME COMPETITIVENESS! We decided that we would line up at a nearby light pole, and have a sprint race to the restaurant. All 3 of us line up, Brian with his hand in his pocket for some reason. 3-2-1....GO. Brian makes one step and promptly rips the pocket right off his pants. "I ripped my shorts!" he cried as we all ran (stumbled?) toward our food source.
Waffle House is a chain of fast food restaurants known for their good food and southern hospitality. On this given evening, they had the decided misfortune of having an "all you can eat" special in effect. After downing countless waffles, hash browns (scattered, of course!), bacon, eggs, and enough fat calories to clog the arteries of a normal person, it was finally time to retreat to our trusty Motel 6.
Morning once again came too soon, but it was worth it. Time to take a ride up I35 into Okie territory and look for new adventures.
We rolled into Arlington, Texas in 1992 on the tail end of an adventurous journey that took us from Beale Street in Memphis, through Bourbon Street in New Orleans, and Houston to see the Astros. All the while, we were outrunning Hurricane Andrew, who wreaked much havoc in Florida on his way through the Gulf States. As we prepared to leave New Orleans, the town was preparing for a direct hit by boarding up store windows. Many folks packed as many belongings as possible into their vehicles and headed west on Interstate 10, just as we did. As we passed through Lake Charles, LA, I couldn't help thinking of "The Grapes Of Wrath" as a steady procession of cars, pick-ups, and vans bulging over with personal effects headed west in search of the promised land. In this case, the promised land was any spot safely out of the deadly grasp of Andrew. Fortunately, we had the forethought to make motel reservations ahead of time for the entire trip. I'm sure many of these poor people were forced to sleep in their vehicles.
Having tickets to 2 consecutive Rangers games at Arlington Stadium, it gave us plenty of time to explore the many diverse attractions in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. I had been to Dealey Plaza before with my wife Diane, but even on the second visit, I couldn't control the shivers going down my back as I stood on the infamous grassy knoll and saw with my own eyes a scene I've watched countless times on television. This time the newly opened 6th Floor museum was able to be toured. For those of you that haven't taken this tour, I highly recommend it. I can only compare it to the feeling I get when visiting the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C.
Having gotten our fill of history, and a full tummy of food and beer at Dallas' Westend party district, it was time to head to the ballyard. Nolan Ryan was starting for the Rangers!
Just watching this legendary player going through his pregame warm up routine was awe inspiring. He wound up pitching a fairly non-descript game, notching a no decision. But the experience of seeing him pitch in front of his home state crowd was more than enjoyable enough.
Game two the next day had us focusing our efforts in other areas. Our buddy Brian Hopkins was just beginning his vacation, and he also made the pilgrimage from Chicago to Dallas. We had chosen to meet up about 3 hours before game time at Bobby Valentine’s Sports Bar, which was located just north of the I30 cloverleaf interchange from Arlington Stadium. This began one of those ever so frequent nights of over imbibing. We got well lubricated in those 3 hours, then made the short trek to see the game. I can't recall a single thing that happened between the white lines during the game, I just recall tons of laughter between friends, and gallons of beer being downed.
I suppose that the game ended, and we noticed that fact sometime later, but it was only 10 p.m. or so. Time to go back to Bobby Valentine's!! I was the chosen driver, but all I had to do was cross that cloverleaf interchange and we'd be there. Somehow, my circuitous route involved driving all 4 of those on/off ramps, but we got there unscathed.
After quaffing many more beers, and because it was closing time, we decided it was time to leave. For those who imbibe late into the evening, we all know what happens at closing time. EXTREME HUNGER! "How fortunate", said Scott as he noticed the glowing yellow sign of a Waffle House restaurant across the parking lot. That's when another closing time event happened. EXTREME COMPETITIVENESS! We decided that we would line up at a nearby light pole, and have a sprint race to the restaurant. All 3 of us line up, Brian with his hand in his pocket for some reason. 3-2-1....GO. Brian makes one step and promptly rips the pocket right off his pants. "I ripped my shorts!" he cried as we all ran (stumbled?) toward our food source.
Waffle House is a chain of fast food restaurants known for their good food and southern hospitality. On this given evening, they had the decided misfortune of having an "all you can eat" special in effect. After downing countless waffles, hash browns (scattered, of course!), bacon, eggs, and enough fat calories to clog the arteries of a normal person, it was finally time to retreat to our trusty Motel 6.
Morning once again came too soon, but it was worth it. Time to take a ride up I35 into Okie territory and look for new adventures.
Proudly powered by Weebly