Surf's Up Dallas

Now there's a lot that I'll do for a good story... which I can virtually guarantee every time Jack and I get together. I can also virtually guarantee that at some point I will begin feeling like a decrepit old woman in comparison to Jack, who is not only the most social person I've ever met but possibly the most energetic. He's the kind of person who derives energy from meeting new people, whereas I enjoy it but re-energize with some cherished alone time.

Somehow we lived together for a year in relative harmony, and have been able to stay in contact for the 7 years since. In those years Jack has traveled and lived in more places than I've got fingers and toes, and is the only true nomad I know. Yesterday he told me that I'm the most stable figure in his life, which was strange for me to consider coming from my background (see the post where I pine over my elementary school pals). But I digress...

In his travels, he has taken up the practice of couch surfing with such vigor that someone should really be paying him for it. He belongs to a rather professional organization of couch surfers who have ensured that anywhere you go in the world you can find a free and hopefully friendly place to lay your head for a night or two. He's been hassling me for ages about joining, which I've always declined based on the presumption that I'd end up ax murdered by an antisocial I met on the Internet. But he finally tricked me into a wetsuit. That's right, surf's up Dallas.

I've been in Waco two weeks, and with school on the horizon I decided I'd better get a day in with Jack before things get too crazy. Luckily, he's in Dallas for a few weeks where he has yet to pay for lodging and as a result has met, per his evaluation, a disproportionate number of attractive but virginal female couch surfers. That's Texas for you. So we started at coffee, took the trolley to our sarcastic criticism of modern art sculptures, discussed mythology in the Dallas Museum of Art, talked city planning over Chipotle, saw Get Smart, and stumped 4 Whole Foods employees over the location of baking soda (we MUST make Grandma Toll House's family recipe, after all). That's the illogical yet enjoyable progression of a day with my friend.

Always laughing, me and Jack yucking it up in Dallas

Around dinner time I pulled my old Civic into the driveway of a pseudo-mansion, aka Jack's pad for the next few nights. Now granted, most couches are located in dorm rooms and ragged apartments, but in my indignation I wouldn't even agree to a night in this Taj Mahal. After all, these are strangers! But I was welcomed into Kenny and Ricardo's home with smiles, energetic conversation, and a drink by the pool (which I politely declined). Then came Anna, a talkative graduate student from Hungary. And then Pamela, a middle-aged blond with a wicked laugh, and her boyfriend Vincenzo, a polite and timid Italian. Then Linda, the petite airline auditor with frenetic speech punctuated by piercing stares of interest. There were some others, but these were the ones that would hop on the surfboard for the evening.

It was a strange experience that included boardgames, me baking cookies, many many bottles of wine, and finally my resignation to surfing a rather classy couch (okay, bed with 50,000 decorative pillows) when the thought of driving to Waco in the middle of the night became unbearable. So, what did I learn from an evening like this?

1) Holy crap, I like talking to people but these people LOVE talking to people. By the end of the evening my ability to converse with any meaning was nil, and I was the only sober surfer. I'm relatively confident they're all still talking at this moment.
2) Some people are kind and trustworthy and will open their home to an indignant stranger like myself with little hesitation. Though I don't think I'd do it, there's something I admire in that foolish trust. It's almost romantic in its naivety.
3) A lot of interesting people with varying backgrounds can laugh for hours over dice and trivia.
4) Its okay for me to not be indignant for a night.
5) I'm completely drained, where's my alone time?

I got up early, trekked the Italian marble and chandelier hall, and left one surreal world for another. And that brings me to now, where I'm still not "home" but slowly building a life in Waco. Right now would be a nice time to have that romantic, foolish trust... but I've come to accept I'm ever the skeptic and am not able to let people into my life as easily as Kenny and Ricardo and the other characters in my Dallas beach movie. It's frustrating, I'm meeting people but I'm guarded and haven't been fully myself. I feel bad about it... a lot. But it's a process and, as always happens, I will come to know these people and to let them know me.

And I won't even make them wear a wetsuit.




A classic parting shot at Chipotle, or a comment on the broken American political system... you decide. I love a company with a sense of humor.