I arrived at DFW yesterday for a week-long interviewing project. Somehow I managed to score a first-class ticket, and spent the 2.5 hour flight relaxing in all the first class splendor: free drinks, a hot lunch, a big seat. After getting settled at the hotel and a few hours of office work, I was swept off by Ian, a friend from the JournalSpace days that I haven’t seen in about three years, who took me for the best damn steak I’ve had in quite a while. Then we hit his favorite Irish pub, where we spent three hours (apparently one hour per year) talking and having beers.
I’m exhausted today – 2 a.m. is too late for this old body. But Ft. Worth is beautiful, not at all like what I imagined when I heard “You’re going to Texas, Rachel,” and it’s a city I could learn to love, I imagine.
Though not nearly as much as Philly. Who wants a cheesesteak?