Recently, I went Europe to visit a friend whom I had not seen in several years. We had a rare ould time drinking cans and riding the subway and eating at tasty restaurants and generally hanging out in Britain and its parent nation of Germany. Perhaps to my travelling companion’s frustration however, I was focused on one thing: Trains.
Man oh man, if you’re an American and you like trains & infrastructure, are you in for a treat in Europe. London really knocks it out of the park with this one, they have a very extensive underground system, and on the street level, they’ve got buses that are 2-stories tall! In fact, I think these things are pretty closely associated with the city itself. Germany had some trains too that I don’t want to knock, but we got around there on scooters that you rent using an app. lithium-powered scooters are nothing special however and can be found strewn about the streets and parks and riverbeds of post-apocalyptic American cities such as Austin.
I realized while I was there and immediately after my return that I really complain about my country’s rail infrastructure, but almost never use it. So this past weekend, I thought I would investigate the commuter rail system in Dallas-Fort Worth and go on a micro-vacation as well. I decided that I would wake up early on Saturday, take the train to Dallas, and then eat breakfast and have a coffee at my favorite Arabic coffee shop in one of the northern suburbs.
I woke up at 5AM and headed to the Fort Worth Intermodal station. It’s just too far from home to walk, and I didn’t want to leave a bicycle there unattended, so I drove. Thankfully, there is a parking garage a couple blocks away that’s free on weekends. I bought a regional day pass and boarded the TRE to Union Station. The TRE runs every hour during the day and into the night, and it’s about an hour journey. This gave me time to read a book in near solitude on a pretty clean car.
Although I’m pretty familiar with the DFW metroplex, I noticed after about 20 minutes that I began to feel an optimistic anticipation quite similar to the kind I’d felt when I was younger and waiting to board a ride to a city or country where I’d never been before. I tried to imagine the food I’d eat, and the landmarks that would catch my eye. I arrived at Union station in Downtown Dallas just before 9AM. The station itself didn’t open until then, so I walked around the courtyard across the street to pass the time. A layer of sweat had formed on the back of my neck, and the morning air had become uncomfortably hot.
The courtyard had a fountain in the middle, surrounded by benches and somewhat covered by a faded canopy of trees that were planted among some flower beds at the corners. A plaque on the side of the fountain indicated that it was built in 1924. surrounding the courtyard itself was the train station, the headquarters for the Dallas Morning News, and the local ABC affiliate. I heard a shriek from the opposite side of the courtyard, and noticed that a woman who had been sleeping on one of the benches was now rifling through a trash can. I wrapped up my sightseeing in the courtyard and made my way back to the station. The guard at the front desk seemed quite focused on me and whether I was riding the train and that I knew which door led outside to the platform.
I boarded the Red line bound for Parker Road, and kept my head on a swivel as I rode the last half hour to my destination. Looking out the window, I noticed lots of homeless guys milling about, some of whom got on the train in various states of lucidity. At this point, I could no longer delude myself into thinking I was on the U-bahn or something. I consider myself to be moderately well-traveled, and I’ve really never seen anything quite like the destitution found in large American cities. Perhaps it’s the availability of drugs, or the juxtaposition between these ramshackle urban encampments and Dallas’s space-age skyscrapers just across the street. After all, Paul Verhoeven selected Dallas for the production of Robocop because of its futuristic skyline.
I disembarked at Spring Valley station and ducked into a mom-and-pop restaurant for a succulent levantine meal. After paying them $8 for a filling meal of eggplant, fries, salad, and falafel, I walked across the street to my destination.
Arwa coffee is so far, my favorite coffee spot in town. They specialize in Yemeni coffee, which I believe is the country where coffee originated. They have a pretty big menu with lots of drinks that I’d never heard of. I really like the mofawer, which has cream and some spices in it. Really good stuff. Really nice atmosphere as well, and it’s open late. Really spic-and-span place, the toilets even have bidets.
I drank my coffee and got an ice cream at Bigdash, again, really great stuff, they have about 4 locations in Dallas’ various suburbs. My journey home was just about the same as the journey there, though when I got back to Spring Valley station, I saw a group of what looked like very haggard ravers (they had goofy haircuts and one was wearing a skirt) sharing what appeared to be a meth pipe. For just a moment, I was able to pretend that I was in Berlin waiting for the U-bahn on a Sunday morning. Mission accomplished.
Postscript: I don’t know what language I’m supposed to use to describe homeless people and homelessness in general. I sometimes get the feeling that there is language policing around this subject in an attempt to get people to accept the presence of shantytowns and drug addiction. As always, if you’ve got any input or simply want to scold me, send me an email explaining how I’m supposed to discuss this and I may or may not take it under consideration.
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