the seamy underside of Dallas nightlife
Apartment in Manhattan:
moving my stuff: $3,800.
Flight to LaGuardia: $250.
Getting off Planet Dallas: Priceless.
Long and Thanks for the Mammaries
Eleven is normally a good number.
In craps, itís a winner. In
sports, itís the number of players on a football team.
In life, itís when the chiquitas start showing up at bars.
But when it refers to the numbers of years youíve lived on
Planet Dallas, it seems more like a prison sentence.
Maybe thatís because time on
Planet D is like dog years. Eleven
years is really seventy-seven, which truly is a life sentence when
youíre cellmates are Velveeta Kings and animal print wearing
Well, thankfully this convict has
busted out and escaped. After
eleven long years in the Planet D lockup, I finally took my own advice
and moved off Planet Dallas, going from the Big D (and the D stands for
delusional? desperate? disillusioned? dysfunctional? disturbed? what?)
to the Big Apple.
In one four-hour flight, Iíve
gone from a city that never sleeps (because of drugs) to a city that
never sleeps because thereís actually shit going on.
From a city where you can stay out to 4:00 AM at a couple clubs,
drinking water or Red Bull or doing drugs, to a city where you can stay
out to 4:00 AM at every bar drinking whatever you want.
From a city that has a no culture to a city that defines culture.
But Iím not happy or anything. Ecstatic is more like it.
Actually there are things Iíll
miss about Planet D. I just
canít think of any right now.
Seriously, though, I will miss
the many good friends Iíve made.
I wonít miss the pseudo-friends who ask me if I have a roll or
a line or a cap for them simply because they saw me once at Seven.
Iíll miss knowing all the door
guys and never waiting or paying to get in.
I wonít miss going to those same bars over and over and over
Iíll miss $5.00 drinks.
I wonít miss drunk Velveeta Kings spilling them on my GF or me.
Iíll miss the eye candy Planet
D offers a single guy. I
wonít miss that most of them had the intelligence of cotton candy or
the stability of nitroglycerin.
Iíll miss all the great
ammunition Planet D provides for a humor column.
I wonít miss seeing it night after night, week after week, year
after year, decade afterÖ well actually Iím getting out after just
And of course Iíll miss writing
Flash, though I will be doing special guest appearances from New York.
In fact, Iíve already discovered the New York version of 972:
the bridge and tunnel crowd, people that live in the outer boroughs that
come into Manhattan to party. 212ers
are just as elitist as 214ers. Iíll
fit right in.
So be looking for the first Flash
in the City episode coming soon. Until
then, goodbye, and Iím sure some of you are saying back, good
By the way, my partner in crime
in the great escape to New York is a bleach blonde stripper with fake
tits. Oh, and she lived in 972 when I met her.
I guess the old saying Ďyou write what you knowí really is