The next day always comes too quickly when you are on vacation, drinking or not. But since we still had a day (and night) to be in Dallas, we sure as hell weren’t going to waste it. So we added M.R. to the venerable gentleman mix (he was our host, by the way) and headed to the beer garden/honky-tonk/cheesesteak stand/tree house known as the Truck Yard. From the aforementioned odd combination of destinations might suggest, the Truck Yard has a little something for everyone’s inner child and a lot of charismatic low-brow awesomeness. And the steak rocks. Let’s just say, at the Truck Yard, you are not going to be served diet food. Given the amounts of ribeye and cheese I was about to ingest in the Texas heat, water seemed like a good choice before booze. The wait staff, who had been slaving over hot flat top grills all day, kept their spirits by their rapid-fire good-natured chiding of each customer in line. Lord knows I should have never dropped the obviously ‘you-ain’t-from-here-are-ya-boy’ phrase, “I could stand some water.” The cashier is probably still shaking her head, laughing.
