Road School: How Big is Texas?
Texas. It does seem like it’s another country. (And perhaps some day it will be?) When I think of Texas, I think of a great many things–most of them stereotypical, cliched, and likely insulting to most actual Texans.
Well, I’m going to Texas. In fact, I’m on a plane bound for the lone star state right now. And while I’m visiting mostly for work (ok, it is entirely a work trip) I’m still really excited. Because I’ve never been to Texas before. And I’m absolutely expecting a scruffy-faced, blue eyed, ruggedly-handsome cowboy (that’s redundant, isn’t it) to sweep me up in his arms as soon as I disembark the plane. And, you know, carry me off into the sunset. They do that, right? Like how they give you a flower lei and a mai tai when you land in Hawaii?
What? You mean that doesn’t happen either? Damnit.
How much of the mystique of Texas culture is fact? How much is fiction?
Over the course of the next four days, I will be going about my work-life in the Dallas/Fort Worth area, observing ordinary Texas life. And I will be documenting it via Instagram–both the myth and the reality. If the guy working at the gas station is wearing a cowboy hat, there will be a picture of it (oh yes there will). If I happen upon a Big Billy Bob’s Boot Emporium, there will be a picture of it (and I will buy many pairs of boots). I shall leave no tumbleweed, no cactus, no big-ass pickup truck un-Instagrammed. And if I happen upon anything non-cliched (like, oh I don’t know, a democrat. Or an arugula salad.) there will be a picture of that, too. Follow along with me as I set out to decipher between Texas fact and Texas fiction.
Note: It is impossible to include original photography for pre-trip posts featuring plans to visit a place I’ve never been. Thus, for Road School pre-posts, I shall include an original shot that has nothing to do with the location I’ll be visiting, yet in some way expresses the spirit of my guided question.
This post’s photo is a creepy back road (in Virginia, not Texas–clearly, as I’ve not yet visited Texas). It represents the kind of scary, back woods world that I’m sure I won’t find in Texas–but still, it ushers in thoughts of banjo music. Also, the reason it is so foggy is because a big-ass pickup truck had just crested the hill. So there’s that.