Best Of Dallas® 2007 Winners
Arts & Entertainment
OK, this category is about as competitive as a Shreveport spelling bee, but we do have to give our stumbling young GM a fair amount of props for claiming the former Dodgers great off the scrap heap. Given up for dead after missing nearly two seasons with an assortment of career-threatening injuries, Eric Gagne reclaimed his spot as one of baseball's best relievers in a great comeback season for the Texas Rangers. With the up and down pitching of Kevin Millwood and streaky hitting of Michael Young, Gagne was the team's most reliable player for a good chunk of the year. For a team with rail-thin confidence, Gagne's ability to close out close games was a huge boon to the team's psyche; there were many games where a blown save could have sent the Rangers reeling to a truly ignominious season—instead of a plain old disappointing one.
Best 28-Minute Drive to Feel Like You're Really Out of Town
McKinney, Exit 38 off North Central Expressway
Go figure. The only place we could find those nifty vintage rock-and-roll tees for our kid was at Haute Apple Pie on the square in downtown McKinney, which has gone through quite the transformation since the days when the coolest thing up there was a record store that sold us Get the Knack in 1981. Until recently the world's largest antique shop, downtown McKinney is what the West Village wants to be and what Deep Ellum ought to be—a smorgasbord of hip retailers (Bath Junkie, Alternative Furnishings, Mom and POPcorn Company) and cool clothing stores and some of the finest dining in North Texas. Within a couple of blocks are four of our favorite places to hang in the 972: Rick's Chophouse and Wine Bar, which boasts a plush library bar bigger and badder than any we've ever seen; Café Malaga, a superior tapas joint; La Misha, a coffee house Dallas would die for; and Spoons Café, a low-key eatery that feels like home...if you're from Austin. Add to that an amazing rare-book store (The Book Gallery, to which people come from all around for great prices on amazing finds), a new boutique inn that used to be a historic hotel (the Grand Hotel, actually, with a dazzling formal ballroom all ready for your special occasions) and two wineries (Landon Winery and Lone Star Wine Cellars) at which we've been known to tipple till we wobble, and you've got the making of a special weekend every weekend.
Best Brokeback Mountain Relationship
Bill Parcells and the Dallas Cowboys
Why is it that no matter what happens to the Cowboys, everyone is still hung up on the team's ex-coach, the legendary Bill Parcells? Neither Cowboys fans nor players ever warmed up to the aging, dyed-blond grump, who did a perfectly average job in his four-year stint here. He improved the team some, though he never broke their epic playoff-win drought. Despite a rather forgettable record, Parcells haunts Valley Ranch like a ghost at a shuttered mental hospital. He's brought up, of course, by the media, who loved the perceived rivalry between Parcells and Jerry Jones, and the players, who either looked upon him as a father or as tyrant. But even Jones himself and Wade Phillips still talk about Parcells. We're not quite sure why the Cowboys can't quit Parcells, but not since Heath and Jake has a bunch of Cowboys shown this kind of passion.
This is Dallas, and we're a material bunch. Frankly, with the right attitude, there's no shame in that. Take for instance the need for a little air-conditioned walking space. NorthPark Center is the finest of the mall walks. Covered parking is nearly always available, and thanks to recent mall additions, walkers get a perfect lap. Natural light beams in through periodic skylights, beautiful wearables and trinkets abound for extensive eyeballing (no wallet required for that), people-watching is prime and with the addition of a brilliantly varied food court, strollers can replenish with Snappy Salads, Hibachi-San, The Original Soup Man and others. Take in a movie and head back out for another 2.72-mile circuit (maps of various routes available at northparkcenter.com).
Call us lame, but we've gotten to the point where we sometimes enjoy a Good Records in-store a lot more than a club show. No smoke, no late nights, no cover charge, no drive to Denton, no drunken sound guys with a bass fetish. It's all of the fun without the majority of the hassles. And guess what? When you watch a show with a bunch of record nerds and bloggers, people actually seem to listen, which is really what it's all about. So grab a six-pack and stop in the next time there's a band playing. They'll probably be good. And if they're not, just remember, it was free and there's always the parking lot.
Best Angst-Ridden Republican
Rod Dreher, columnist
The Dallas Morning News
Soon the formerly conservative Rod Dreher will find himself to the left of our very own Jim Schutze. Dreher's leftward lurch began when he came out of the closet as an environmentalist. Then he penned a column admitting that his support for the invasion of Iraq was a total mistake. He would later announce his opposition to capital punishment. Finally, he wrote that he has problems with, well, capitalism and big business. At this rate, in a year or so, Dreher will write in favor of unionizing welfare recipients. For sure, there have been times when Dreher's evolution (our word) has been hard to watch, like seeing a college freshman change his stripes midway through his first political science class. But Dreher's honesty and insight always manage to shine through the awkwardness of his revelations. Here's the sound of our left hand clapping.
Best Art Gallery
The Public Trust (formerly Art Prostitute)
Public Trust owner/director Brian Gibb moved from Denton to a space on Commerce Street in 2006 and people crammed the joint, spilling out of the door and onto the asphalt. The Public Trust makes art a party and everyone's invited. Over the course of the last year, and through a transition from Art Prostitute into the Public Trust, the gallery has showcased impressively diverse exhibitions featuring local and national artists. We've seen skateboard art, simple drawings, tiny art, giant art, group shows, mad paintings, stuffed objects, photographs and more. And we're willing to bet those gallery peeps had fun through every show, which is part of what makes TPT a place you truly want to be. Their receptions are as friendly as house parties, often with crazy-good DJs and a little hooch to boot. The price of the work is friendly to the budget-minded and the well-heeled, just like the gallery itself.
We want it all from our bar. We like a bar with a nice blend of drunks and fashionable folk so we can have something to laugh at and ogle while we take in our Boddingtons (which they have on tap, thanks) or Stella or vodka whatevers. We love a comfortable bar stool. We love the option of ordering really, really good food (Guinness steak sandwich with fries, please) to soak up our drink. We appreciate the presence of DJ Mr. Rid's Scaraoke every Thursday night for a good bit of self-humiliation if the mood strikes us. We like a mix of regular faces and a steady stream of first-timers. And we adore the opportunity to return hung-over the next morning for an outta-sight weekend brunch (gingerbread pancakes or eggs Florentine with a damn fine Bloody Mary) to a place that looks like it survived the night before much better than we did.
We are so gonna regret this. Look, just keep this little secret between us, OK? There's this great little bar on Maple Avenue that's not called The Grapevine, which we love, but apparently so does everyone else. Sometimes you just need a drink, a friendly face and a quiet, cozy place to sit and ponder your beer bubbles. That's why we love The Windmill. Owned and operated by a friendly New Yorker who introduces himself simply as Charlie, this joint is sort of little place that drives home the difference between a bar and a nightclub. Beneath the neon windmill on the roof is a secret treasure chamber, dark enough to let you sit in peace and contemplate your day, yet lighted enough to allow you to look your drinking companion in the eye. It's also one of the few places we've been to where you can actually walk up to the bar without looking like Marion Barber cutting up the middle. The Windmill even has a "cell phone booth," a former pay phone booth (look it up, kids) to give you privacy while making a call. Don't be ringing up a bunch of frat boys to come out for the night, though. We want to keep this "best" place the best.
At the Old Monk you can select from 14 beers on draft and nearly 50 bottled beers, including Belgian varieties so strong they could intoxicate Nate Newton. Of course, it's not just the selection of fine brew that makes the Old Monk a Dallas institution; it's the cozy feel of the place, highlighted by dark wood floors, elegant antiques and round, polished tables that look like they came from your grandparents' house, which in our case render us a little nostalgic. While the place is always full, the bartenders have a knack for handling your drink requests quickly and perfectly, giving patrons the best of both worlds: a fun, lively atmosphere and top-shelf service.
Anyone who thinks horse racing is a dying sport ought to head out to Lone Star Park. Despite record rainfall this year, the park enjoyed one of its best years in attendance in the decade since it opened. Surprisingly, at least to anyone who has been to a horse track on the East Coast, Lone Star has a great family atmosphere. But that's not what keeps the place afloat. Like any other track, gamblers are its lifeblood, and there's a reason they keep coming back: Horse racing is as good a bet as any to turn a profit. Regulars will tell you about the fella who turned a 20-cent superfecta bet into $32,000. To the uninitiated, that may sound confusing, but there's plenty of information available at the park to help beginners (starting with the first pages of the daily race program). Once you get started, there's no stopping. You'll be digging every last dime out of your pocket in the hopes that this superfecta or exacta or quinella will be the big one. And if not, there's always the next race.
There's no shame in diggin' on a little Starland Vocal Band or some Supertramp. Don't feel bad if you truly love Judy Collins. There's a place for you where people understand. That place is in Mesquite and it's a radio station with high school kids for DJs who probably have no idea whom they're playing. We'll give them the benefit of the doubt because they crank out the '70s Top 40 as if wool dickeys and macramé owls were back in style. With Robert Bass in the music director's chair, the station offers all the best from the age of super-sappy love songs. Jim Croce and Ambrosia never had it so good, even back before they had songs on albums that weren't Time/Life collections.
On September 13, former Dallas Morning News TV critic Ed Bark posted to his Web site, which he calls a blog, a handful of wonderful photos of Mark Cuban sweating his ass off and making his "O" face whilst rehearsing for ABC's Dancing With the Stars. Man looked like he was going to have a heart attack; we're not sure he'd make it through a single episode of Crawling With the Stars. Ed got the snaps and the interviews with the Mavs owner because Ed's got clout and chops from two-plus decades at Dallas' Only Daily, where he accrued the rep as "the dean of American TV critics," as Kansas City Star's Aaron Barnhart wrote of Bark when he took Belo's buyout one year ago. We'll admit we're not as enamored of Uncle Barky's obsession with local TV news ratings as we should be, but Ed's coverage of local TV news goings on has been invaluable: He's the one who kept us informed of the doings at KTVT-Channel 11 during the Regent Ducas era; he watched Anchorwoman when no one else wanted to; and he still goes to Los Angeles on his own dime to cover the fall and spring season previews, since The Dallas Morning News is still too cheap and short-sighted to employ a freaking TV critic. He's providing content about content. At least Ed's still bringing something to the table, which is more than most of us can say in the crowded but somehow always lonely blogosphere.
Sam Merten's coverage of Dallas City Council meetings on DallasBlog is a must-read for political junkies, capturing the drama, intrigue and the contentiousness that the daily paper often overlooks. We were particularly impressed with his dispatch on the debate over allowing Trammell Crow to raze a safe, modest apartment complex for a strip mall. Add Merten's no-fuss journalism to his well-sourced reporting on the Trinity River debate and you have all the evidence you need that local blogging doesn't have to be all about opinion, conjecture and frivolity. Instead, it can give you a bigger bite of what's going on in your fair city than the big-dog news outlets.
Even though it's not as part and parcel of Dixie as, say, Mobile, Alabama, Dallas is still a pretty Southern town. It is, as well, a music town, though you'd never know it judging from the dearth of national coverage. And, let's not forget the bloodline of blues legacy that runs through Deep Ellum—with all the Blind Lemon Jefferson and Robert Johnson lore that takes place in that locale, you'd think Main and Hall was the site of a certain legendary crossroads. Odd, then, that Dallas doesn't boast many blues clubs, though we do have our fair share of white boys trying their hands at it, precious few of whom have actually achieved transcendence in the genre (thanks, Vaughn brothers, for keeping real). Still, we've got what no other city has: The Goat. The place kicks it no frills gen-u-ine, with dog-eared tables and karaoke that most folks dig without a trace of irony. This is a place where hipsters and regular ol' people mingle with ease, any differences they might have smoothed out by music and booze—and isn't that what the blues are all about?
Ah, the intoxicating scent of a true honky-tonk: smoky, boot-scuffed wood infused with years of spilled Bud Light and a hearty pinch of tobacco. Big-name places such as Billy Bob's and Cowboys purport to provide visitors with a high-quality honky-tonk experience, and they do a fine job, but they just don't have that sweet honky-tonk smell. Not, at least, the way Hoots does. The skating-rink-sized dance hall is situated way out in Rendon, so fancified big-city line dancers might scoff at making the drive, but any true boot-scooter knows there's some real getting down to be done in the boonies. Holler your favorite tune at the band, and chances are the boys (and girl!) can pull it off. In fact, do a turn or two to some Hank Jr., just for us. 'Preciate it.
There may be better places to see a show in North Texas, but for communal atmosphere, it's hard to beat Secret Headquarters, the DIY, blink-and-you'd-miss-it lair of musicians, artists and eccentrics just off the Denton square. Located in the old Art Prostitute space, SHQ is the definition of laid back, with no real stage (unless you count a rug and some lamps in the corner) and only one unisex bathroom. And with no pool tables or flat-screen TVs, you only have two options: watch the bands—could be country bands, could be noise bands, could be punk bands, could be singer-songwriters, could be all of the above—or sit in the alley and drink. It's that simple. And it's that beautiful.
Where else in Dallas can you stand around a campfire—or lounge on a nearby hammock, for that matter—while listening to live music with a bottle in your hand? Standing in the wide, rustic yard in the dark, it's easy to pretend you're in the Texas Hill Country or even back at summer camp, except instead of roasting marshmallows you're nursing a beer. And the best part? The thing about campfires is that somehow they make it nearly impossible to be uptight, cocky or generally idiotic, the result being a mellow crowd just out for a good time under the stars.
So what if most of the swimmers at the UP pool have their own swimming pools back at the mansion. This isn't about practicing the dog paddle. It's about navigating certain social circles. Splashing among the skinny MILFs and young nannies, you'll find the scions of some of the wealthiest families in the Park Cities. OK, they're still in swim diapers and water wings, but someday they'll inherit everything they have no idea right now that they're entitled to. Hang out by the snack bar or shaded baby pool to hear waves of good gossip about who's who (and who's leaving who). On summer nights they have free "dive-in movies" featuring screenings of family comedies while you float. The catch is, to get wet here, you have to have a UP address on your ID or be the guest of someone who does. They wouldn't want the hoi polloi polluting the waters, dontcha know.
It's downtown Dallas at its best. On the third Friday of every month, the Dallas Museum of Art hosts the best party in town, opening its doors and its collection until midnight. Anchored off the glimmering Dallas skyline, the museum is an especially festive place at night, inviting to art lovers and partygoers alike. With tickets only $10, an evening at the museum won't tear through your checkbook like the rest of the Dallas late-night scene, and with a provoking modern art collection—our absolute fave is Chris Burden's "All the Submarines of the United States of America"—you and your date are sure to have plenty to talk about.
Come on, admit it. For sheer guts alone, you have to hand it to freshman city council member Angela Hunt, who stood up to the entire bunch on the Trinity River toll road issue. What makes Hunt the best council member is not so much the position she took on that river thing, but that she had the courage to do it and not be a nut case about it. When we read about her or see her on the tube, she's always calm, cool and collected. And except for the Trinity deal, she seems to play well with others. It's something about being smart, thinking for herself and doing what she thinks is right. Is that not a plan?
This DJ shit sometimes gets on our nerves, what with the boy culture and the wheelspinners' propensity to try to out-obscure each other at the expense of alienating the dance floor. Oh, and then there's that whole club mindset, in which anything that's not house music with a beat that sounds like a cat barfing isn't considered danceable. That's where DJ Wild in the Streets comes in; she's adept at digging some gems out of her crate that will please the purist and the casual booty-shaker alike, all without succumbing to remix fever. This is a woman who knows that if you provide the international pop, the Stax classic and the classic backbeat, they will come.
Let's get this straight—this is not a category for best beer joint or best place to get a cheap brew or best place to scope some SMU co-ed you have no chance with. This is best cold beer in town. And it goes to Gezellig, because every single one of the dark, slightly upscale spot's draught brewskis is run through that little tube thing that connects the keg with the tap, just like any other bar, except at Gezellig, that tube is kept ice cold, and from the tap the liquid goes straight into a chilled glass. The warmest thing that beer will touch is your lips, baby. Hey, that's our new pickup line.
Best Comedy Champions
Linda Stogner and Jan Norton's Backdoor Comedy Showcase
For stand-up comedians, stage time trumps all, including spouses, children, international incidents and most major sporting events. There's nothing more important than the opportunity to make drunk people laugh. It's about gaining experience, about learning what makes the masses guffaw. Nobody knows this better than Linda Stogner and Jan Norton, who, for the past 15 years, have hosted comedy shows in the backs of bowling alleys, delis, pizza parlors and other unlikely venues. Calling their operation the "Backdoor Comedy Showcase," Stogner and Norton have championed both up-and-coming and veteran comics. They were booted from their first official comedy-only space on Ross Avenue this year to make room for another soulless corporate headquarters, but that hasn't stopped the pair, who continue to host shows anywhere they can draw a crowd. For that, we give them our most sincere rubber chicken salute.
This blessedly wet and weird summer aside, there is no season in North Texas more brutal, more unrelenting than June, July and August, especially if you've got kids. Hopefully, you have a pool, or at least access to one, but if not, head over to the Allen Spray Park. Even if you live south of LBJ, it's worth the drive. The park includes a big spray gun, a tunnel that sprays mists of cool water and geysers that shoot up from the ground. Best of all, the spray ground's pumping system is now being retrofitted to allow it to operate on re-circulated water.
Best Daily Newspaper Column
"Metro Politics" by Gromer Jeffers
The Dallas Morning News
Couple problems here. "Metro Politics" really isn't a column. It's a little explanatory title that the News puts over stories by Gromer Jeffers, local political reporter. And Jeffers isn't supposed to be considered a columnist. But the larger truth is that Jeffers is a better columnist than any of the typists at the News who are supposed to be columnists. He takes you inside local government. (If you happened to read his take on why the proposed University of North Texas law school at Dallas died in the Legislature, for example, you saw that it got doused in a pissing match between state Senator Royce West and state Representative Yvonne Davis, both Democrats of Dallas.) Jeffers also gives you some flavor for where and when politics gets done in the real world. Seems like half his stories include references to stuff said at tables or just outside the front door of Brooklyn Jazz Café. That's cool. If the News was smart, they'd stick his picture on top of his stories and call him an official DMN columnist. No, wait. Better to leave him where he is: as the best columnist who isn't one.
Some people like a sense of place when it comes to night spots. There's a certain comfort in crossing the same threshold weekend after weekend, but even Studio 54 got tired after awhile. When it comes to something as subject to the whim of trends as a dance club, sometimes it's better to have a little breathing room. So we love that the guys in Central Booking—a DJ collective featuring guys who call themselves Nature, Sober, Select and Prince Klassen—keep the party moving, literally. Their traveling dance party, aptly named The Party, draws club kids, hipsters, preps, goths and anyone else who likes to let loose and shake it. We've Partied at Zubar, the Palladium Ballroom, some guy's house...if the floor's flat and there's available electricity, Central Booking will tear it up with classic hits, booty-bumpers and electronica like the yes-y'all. Check their blog for the location of the next show.
OK, we know you Farmers Branch people are scared—what with the "invasion" and all—but seriously, Oak Cliff has changed a lot since the last time you heard about it. Completely gentrified. Totally bland, McMansions all around. Sure, you might see a (gasp) Mexican or two, but we can assure you, they all speak perfect English and listen to Clay Aiken. No Tejano music down here. Just American flags and apple pie. So come on down—Interstate 35, exit Jefferson, roll the windows down and enjoy the view. You'll love it.
The Kettle Art Gallery really shouldn't exist. In a missive on the official Kettle Art Web site, co-owners Frank Campagna and Kirk Hopper admit that they rarely represent artists who sell work for bucketloads of cash. They have no major benefactor and don't live in the space or hold fund-raisers—all elements that keep most galleries afloat. To top it off, they're in Deep Ellum, the neighborhood everyone's been told to run far, far away from. But anyone who's been to Kettle knows better. Their strip of Elm Street is thriving. Campagna's and Hopper's marathon exhibition schedule, featuring everything from tattoo artists' works to horror-themed shows, keeps the gallery walls full of fresh new work from both underground and prominent local artists. It's all a mighty fine affront to conventional attitudes about how to make and sell art.
Some would say "dive bar" is an insult, but for us, Best Dive Bar is an enormous compliment. It means this place we're as comfortable in as our own living room. It's a place we respect for its attitude and its people. There's no pretense in a dive bar. No bullshit. And that's what the Lakewood Landing is about. (The bar's sign outside claims "an upscale dive," so we know we're all on the same page here.) The booths are worn like our couch cushions, the food goes down hot and easy and the cold beer goes down even easier. We can count on watching whatever game we care about on one of their several screens. We can play seriously great music as well as some guilty pleasures on the jukebox. We can suck at pool. And while we love knocking back a few with friends at the Landing, we also know we can sidle up to the bar comfortably alone knowing the keepers of the bar and kings of the kitchen treat good folks like family and don't take any shit from assholes.
First, a disclaimer. If you have a small, introspective dog, we do not suggest the White Rock Lake Dog Park, where your little critter will be swarmed by herds of yappy dogs upon arrival. So instead, we suggest taking your pet to the woodsy trails around the old Fish Hatchery adjacent to the White Rock spillway. It's rather peaceful there with plenty of wildflowers, streams and trees for your dog to sniff. But if you and your critter are looking for a more social experience, the White Rock Lake Dog Park, with its stunning views of the lake, remains a prime spot for man's best friend. There you have three areas, one for smaller dogs, the other for larger ones and a third with lakeside access for dogs who like to swim. The park can turn to mud after a drop of rain, but on sunny, dry days, it's a fun place to tire out your dog and meet people who share your irrational devotion to your pet.
The main gatekeeper of Club Dada goes only by the name of Beard. And, indeed, with his grizzled white-furred chin and Marine Corps insignia-laden jacket, the man resembles Santa Claus, if Santa were to ride a Harley. Also like Santa, Beard is jolly enough, and judicious but fair. If you're nice, he will check your ID, lead you right in and regale you with strange and amazing tales of the Deep Ellum of yore. If you're naughty, he'll punish you, and believe us, it's worse than a bag of switches.
Boys will be boys, but at The Rose Room, they'll be girls too. And these "girls" are the jewel in the crown of Station 4, one of the largest gay dance clubs in the country. Located on the upper level of the mega-disco, the cast of The Rose Room is the crème de la crème of America's female impersonators. The atmosphere is more nightclub than gay bar. A diverse crowd watches primo parades of tucked-in pulchritude. Included in the cast are a former Miss Gay America, a former Miss Gay USofA and a former Miss Continental. The gals kick off full cast shows at 11 p.m. and 12:30 a.m. on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights, with costumed production numbers and solo spots at center stage. Fan favorites include sexy blond bombshell Krystal Summers; Layla LaRue and her elaborate dance routines; the hilarious comic antics of Cassie Nova; and the legendary beauty of Maya Douglas. But the bloom on this rose belongs to Valerie Lohr, who has reigned as resident goddess of glamour for more 20 years. Her opulent wardrobe and wicked wit have made her one of the most enduring divas in all of dragdom. Check out caven.com for cover charges, special guest appearances and general information.
With his soft jowls and graying hair, James Crawford, 42, isn't a typical leading man. But Dallas theaters compete to cast this powerful actor, who's as versatile as John Lithgow, with a bit of Kevin Spacey's penchant for dark humor. At Contemporary Theatre of Dallas last season, he was stoic but romantic as Brit author C.S. Lewis in the tragic Shadowlands. At WaterTower he played a quietly enraged (and very drunk) George in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? He's done comedies at Theatre Three, classics at Dallas Theater Center (10 shows in five years) and worn jodhpurs for Echo Theatre. He's also acted at Theatre Britain, Stage West, Shakespeare Festival of Dallas and other regional and off-Broadway houses. He's been playing characters in their 40s "since I was in fifth grade," he says, and is now enjoying aging gracefully into more mature roles. There's no accent he can't perfect and no local leading lady who hasn't developed a bit of a crush on him, at least for the run of the show. His latest challenge was taking on multiple roles in DTC's Pride & Prejudice. Now teaching acting to undergrads and grad students at SMU's Meadows School of the Arts as an assistant professor, Crawford is a master of his art.
This was the breakout year for the 42-year-old Dallas actress. After a decade as one of the area's leading musical theater stars—most recently starring in the title role in Theatre Three's Caroline, or Change—Mikel made the leap to TV and film with a year's worth of work. On NBC's critically acclaimed series Friday Night Lights, she plays Corinna Williams, tough-but-warm mom to "Smash," one of the show's star high school football players (played by Gaius Charles). Cast for what she thought was a one-episode shot, Mikel ended up appearing on nearly every episode of the drama's freshman season and will be back again this fall. She'll also be seen in the new film comedy The Better Man, starring with James Earl Jones, Martin Lawrence, Mo'Nique and Cedric the Entertainer. Always a joy to watch in musical comedies, Mikel shows real fire as a dramatic actress. Friday Night Lights may shine on the show's younger stars, but playing Corinna has finally put Mikel in the national spotlight.
Fine Nails is the snooping sociologist's dream. The salon attracts Swiss Avenue socialites, couples out for a his-and-hers pedi, nail-obsessed women with 2-inch claws and everyone in between. Want to know where Susie Perfect with the pink manicure met her cheating boyfriend? Just wait for a spell in the one-room salon, and chances are, she'll tell someone—either her nail technician or the person on the other end of her cell. Need to know what kind of china is hot at Lakewood weddings or which local doctor is best at identifying bizarre moles? The answers all await at Fine Nails. Since each nail station is arranged in a large circle, including the comfy pedicure chairs, it's impossible not to hear every word uttered. Which never seems to stop anyone from airing out their dirty laundry. Oh, well. At least you know their hands and/or feet are clean.
You probably know by now that Fuel City serves the best tacos in Texas, according to Texas Monthly and every member of the Dallas Observer editorial staff. But we're almost as impressed with the place itself as we are with its famous taco stand. Located between a strip club and a jail, Fuel City is, like Texas, a bizarre, inexplicable and larger-than-life place. We don't know why there are cattle in a field behind the store or why young Latinas amble by the pool on a cool spring day. We're not even sure why there is a pool there in the first place or how any one gas station can sell as much beer as they stock or why they have approximately 429 large-screen TVs tuned to around-the-clock auto racing. We don't know and we don't ask. We just get there, look around and eat, which, come to think of it, is what most people do when they come to Texas.
Best Film Series
Rock 'N' Reel Wednesdays at the AllGood Café
Most repertory film series focus on things we have, at best, a middling interest in. You know, like, '70s slasher flicks, zombie movies and, uh, French stuff. The Rock 'N' Reel Wednesdays series, however, is a whole different animal, catering mostly to music nerds, aging hippies and hungry stoners with selections such as the Maysles brothers' immortal Gimme Shelter, Sam Jones' 2002 Wilco documentary I Am Trying to Break Your Heart and The Weather Underground, a critically acclaimed 2002 doc on the most radical wing of the Vietnam protest movement. Sure, you could get most of this stuff on Netflix if you wanted, but music is a communal thing, man, so pony up that $5 donation and get your ass down to the AllGood for some rock and roll soul food and a flick.
Sometimes we don't want to go where everybody knows our name. Sometimes, we need to lay low after a nasty fight with the sig other or escape the bona fide parking nightmares that are Dallas' various entertainment districts. Those times, Lota's Goat is just what the functional alcoholic ordered. If it's a warm side-hug, a cold brew and a sympathetic ear you need, someone at Lota's Goat will be happy to oblige—whether you've met before or not. The neon-lit, wood-paneled bar pulls off one heck of a double-wide trailer impression and features a parade of comfortingly nutty regulars, from the bleached blond lady who always sings "Black Velvet" on karaoke night to the steady string of weathered local musicians. New patrons who favor total anonymity best be careful, though, because the bar's friendly East Dallas attitude could turn most anyone into a nightly fixture.
As technology expands, so do our entertainment options. But the more things change, the more they stay the same. Radio has made a resurgence as a niche entertainment source. North Texas is home to the sixth-largest GLBT (gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender) community in the country, and Dallas now boasts its first and only station representing the gay community. Don't bother trying to tune it in on your radio dial; the station can be heard only online or on HD radio. The channel's options include 24/7 streaming music, music on demand, news, gossip, videos and all things pop culture and entertainment-related. Special programs include New York-based "Ryan and Caroline" (called radio's "Will & Grace"), who feature listener stories, movie reviews, travel, style and health spots, and dish about the latest dirt with celebrity blogger Perez Hilton. Dallas favorite Jen Austin is the local source. There's even a Hunk of the Day and Babe of the Day. Pride Radio is on loud and proud.
There's nothing particularly subtle about the Hidden Door, starting with its name and continuing the moment you walk inside to a room of aging gay men kissing and joking like long-lost soul mates. The Hidden Bar is a gay bar in both senses of the word: On a Sunday afternoon when an overflow crowd spills out into the patio, it may be the happiest place in Dallas. This is not your trendy gay bar; no SMU girls just looking to dance, no young, trim gay men looking to impress. It's just a loud, chatty crowd of regulars, like the kind you might find in a working-class bar in Staten Island, only with a whole bunch of gay men, some of whom are inexplicably shirtless. In its own way, the Hidden Door attracts a mixed crowd, from straight-looking office worker types to middle-aged men who make Elton John look like Steve McQueen. Best of all, the Oak Lawn Avenue joint can boast some of the best bartenders in town, who remember the familiar faces and warm up to the new ones.
Tucked away on an unassuming stretch of Maple Avenue (at Throckmorton Street) perches a nightclub that, while modest of appearance, has heaps of heart. Although the club prides itself on diversity and inclusion, it's mainly a welcome watering hole for gay boys, gay gals and their friends and fans. Everyone is welcome to kick up their heels, have a laugh or sing a song. Twice-a-week karaoke is one of the most popular attractions at Illusions. Activities abound nightly from potent potable price-breaks and pool tournaments, to pageants and potluck dinners. But the cornerstone of this quaint cabaret is the wonderfully wacky weekly drag show featuring some of Dallas' most outrageous she-males. Special charity fund-raising events provide a frequent opportunity for the club to give back to the community. Illusions is a warm little shoebox of a bar with an accommodating staff who love their customers and pride themselves on a friendly atmosphere with fun times for all.
Dallas' annual Black Tie Dinner is not only one of the most successful sit-down charity dinners in America, it is the largest event of its kind. Established in 1982, the nation's leading gay and lesbian fund-raising dinner has grown from a modest first event, which had 140 guests and raised $6,000, to more than 3,000 guests and a record haul of $1.35 million at last year's 25th annual gala. Black Tie Dinner Inc. is a nonprofit organization that raises funds for the Human Rights Campaign Foundation as well as gay and lesbian organizations serving North Texas. This elegant evening is one of the highlights of the Dallas gay social calendar and features nationally known guest speakers, entertainers and celebrities. Past luminaries have included Maya Angelou, Stockard Channing, Lily Tomlin and Megan Mullally. In 2005 Sharon Stone led the luxury auction to record high bids. The 2007 gala will be held November 17 at the Adam's Mark Hotel. Check the Web site for ticket info. The guest speaker this year is slated to be actor, social activist and humanitarian Martin Sheen.
The popular summer TV show may be called America's Got Talent, but an argument could be made that Dallas Has Got Talent too. And it's onstage at the annual Voice of Pride competition, now in its fourth year. Open to members of the lesbian/gay/bisexual/transgender community over age 21, the American Idol-style singing contest starts in late spring with a series of preliminary, elimination and semi-final rounds held at various gay clubs around the city. The 12 finalists perform in a special finale competition, and the winner pockets $3,000 in cash as well as invitations to appear at various community events throughout the year. Voting for Voice of Pride, after the preliminary rounds, is done by teams of qualified music professionals, making it a true singing competition and less of a popularity contest. And there won't be snarky comments from any Simon Cowell-ian judges: The atmosphere at this contest is decidedly upbeat and supportive. The 2007 winner, Randall Garland, was chosen August 5. Info on upcoming events and on entering the 2008 competition can be found by visiting the Dallas Tavern Guild Web site.
Granted, Texas has some beautiful scenery, but sometimes we just want to see some honest-to-goodness forest and mountains. And so we head to southeastern Oklahoma, to the edge of the Ouachita National Forest. The terrain is beautiful, with mountain lakes and rivers and thousands of conifers (though you may need a four-wheel-drive in some areas). For camping, head to Beavers Bend State Park (about 3.5 hours from Dallas) or for a less rustic romantic or family outing, pick any of the log cabins and cottages for rent along Highway 259.
The Dallas Theater Center will move out of the cantilevered layer-cake building on Turtle Creek when the new Wyly arts complex downtown is finished in 2009. But we're wondering if the ghost of the building's legendary architect will make the move too. Since the theater opened nearly 48 years ago, it's been part of its colorful lore that the ghost of architect Frank Lloyd Wright haunts the scene shop's elevator. Seems Wright designed DTC with no right angles (making those steps to the restrooms from the lobby particularly treacherous) and no way to lift large set pieces from the basement to the stage. Wright died in April 1959; the theater opened in December of that year. In the months between, they put in the elevator, thus enraging the spirit, so the story goes, of Wright. Late-night scene shop workers have reported sightings of the levitating head in the elevator for decades. Now that's a show.
The wonderful thing about Halloween on Swiss Avenue is that it's sort of not Halloween. On Swiss the night has evolved into something quite beyond Halloween, a phenomenon particular to the place and time. It's a strange admixture of American Halloween, Mexican Day of the Dead and who knows what else. There could be some Latvian Independence Day going on out there, and nobody would be the wiser. Or mind. Starting at dark and lasting until 10 p.m. or so, the big houses on Swiss always offer a wonderfully warm welcome for all comers. Pickup-loads of kids, some in costumes, some wearing quinceañera gowns (mostly girls), pile across the lawns in search of loot. It's a whole new kind of holiday in protean form. Not to be missed.
With $2 drinks and all-night happy hour on Tuesday, the gay (in all senses of the word) bar at the Grapevine is a great place to get drunk after work, in part because nobody in there looks like they ever work. We're not sure what exactly the patrons at the Grapevine do for a living, but on any given night, the jean-clad, buzzed-by-4 crowd puts on the most raucous bar scene in Dallas, with nary a sorority girl or corporate stooge in sight. As soon as you walk into the Oak Lawn area bar, you'll hit the place's unique wall of sound—a seamless mix of excited chatter, drunken laughter and easy pickup lines. Nobody talks about spreadsheets, memos, depositions or anything work-related, preferring instead to bask in the glow of beer, cigarettes and good friends, exactly like a punk and gay version of Cheers, which, come to think of it, could be a very cool show.
Now so long ago, we took a day trip to Highland Park—packed the passport and a sack lunch and everything! And we took the youngster down to Daddy's former fave make-out spot: that bridge over Turtle Creek—you know the one—where every local boy's gone since the dawn of time to show off his sensitive side. On the other side of the bridge, across the creek from the trillion-dollar homes on Lakeside decked out like it's Christmas even in June, are those concrete teddy bears, cuddly, dangerous fuckers upon which we've seen one tyke chip a toof. On the street above the concrete cubbies you'll find Willow Wood Street, which makes a circle and also dumps out on Preston Road; it's like the secret route to the Batcave, hard to find. On Willow Wood's the bunker-like entrance to Deedie and Rusty Rose's $8-mil fortress, which, two years back, got a nifty add-on: the architecturally feted Pump House. It used to be the Turtle Creek Pump House and serves as "a place for the arts, a space for intellectual discussion, a temporary apartment, a playground," in the words of MESA Design Group. Them's the architects responsible for the hidden hideaway—the same peeps who did NorthPark Center and Southlake Town Square. Not bad.
OK, Off Price Shoes isn't really a store for drag queens, but because they specialize in fabulous feminine footwear in sizes 9 to 12, you just might think it is. All standard women's shoe sizes are represented, but for those guys and gals heavy of hoof, the dizzying display of plus-sized pumps is positively perfect. Wander through racks of flats, wedges, sandals, slides, boots, dye-ables and heavenly high heels. Whether you're a dude in a dress completing your Halloween drag act or merely a miss in search of stylish shoes, the large inventory at Off Price Shoes is destined to delight. And the best part? Except for boots, which run about $14.99, all shoes here are $6.99 to $9.99. Pump paradise!
The Round-Up embodies two things that are hallmarks of Dallas: gay guys and cowboys. This place was gay cowboy before gay Ang Lee got his grubby little hands on the subculture. With its seven rooms, each devoted to a different type of C&W, and each corner offering a different type of cowpoke—be he gay, straight, male or female, the Round Up stirs up a mixture of Billy Bob's and Brokeback Mountain.
If the frozen treats at Tasti-D-Lite weren't so damned tasty—and, supposedly, better for you than regular ice cream—we'd feel even dirtier enjoying them. Imported from the Northeast, where Tasti-D-Lite's special blend of frozen yogurt attracts customers even on the coldest of winter days, the Dallas franchise of Tasti-D-Lite, located near the SMU campus, is the perfect setting for soft-core visions of soft-serve. Tanned, leggy co-eds stream in and out of Tasti-D, carrying delicious dripping cones of vanilla cream in hand, softly licking each sweet bite with the tips of their delicate tongues. There are actually 100 other flavors on rotation, like graham cracker and banana and Snickers, but there's really nothing more soothing than watching a psych major suck on a sprinkle-laden dollop of 'nilla.
Jazz gets better and better in Dallas all the time, with a number of new clubs springing up and Brooklyn Café on South Lamar Street holding down the fort. But there's still nothing quite like Tuesday nights at Gezellig. The club always puts a good trio onstage on Tuesdays, but half the fun is from other Dallas musicians who just drop in to jam. Gezellig does jazz about half the time and other pre-1970s music—old-school R&B, funk, soul—the rest of the time.It's a small club with a nice, tight feel.
With its exposed brick walls, copper-topped bar and tasteful tables, Brooklyn is exactly what a jazz club should be (except it's not smoky; smoking is only allowed on the patio). This is the kind of spot to which you amble without even knowing who's on the bill. You just walk in, order your glass of wine or your Dewar's and soak up jazz of all kinds—psychedelic, guitar-based jazz (Montrose); silky vocals (Martha Burkes, KarenJ); brass-intensive (Freddie Jones Jazz Group); and everything in between. There's also a full menu, wi-fi and even a game night, so you can get your chess on while you take in the tunes.
Considering all the people who have been thrown out of this joint for cussin' or violating the dress code, they ought to call it Tight Ship's Lounge, 'cause they certainly run one. But dammit if they don't have a magnificent jukebox full of country and R&B classics, with names like Marty Robbins, Lightnin' Hopkins, Bobby "Blue" Bland and the Drifters whizzing past as you search for that perfect slice of heartbreak or romance. You might also notice a complete lack of Jimmy Buffet, Justin Timberlake and Interpol, which is fine and dandy with us. And if you just can't decide between Jimmy Reed and Jim Reeves, take solace in the fact that this juke still plays four songs for a dollar. (The bar's also quiet enough that you can actually hear what's playing.) So put on something besides a wife-beater, watch your mouth and show some respect for the old school, kids.
Owned in part by the surviving members of Pantera, with an airy interior whose dimensions rival that of the main cave at Carlsbad Caverns, and providing patrons with free drinks on Monday nights, the Clubhouse is a place where dirty dreams come true in the least seedy way possible. It's, as they say, a classy joint, boasting an enormous stage with just enough lighting and plenty of poles. There's also the comfy VIP section, which is a large upstairs balcony with a view of, well, everything, plus—and this is our favorite part—all the cocktail waitresses are dressed as schoolgirls. Oh yeah, and there's valet parking too, but the valets just wear regular clothes.
Dear Ask a Mexican, What is the best Latin club in Dallas? I'd really like to get my salsa on.—Gringa Skin, Latina Heart Dear Gringa, Ay, Gabacha! What makes you think you can pigeonhole what "Latin" means now days? If we were to vote, we could choose that place Blue, downtown, because the block-long line to get in has always been full of Latinos ready to get their groove on, although the place plays hip-hop. But since it plays hip-hop and not Selena, or salsa, or merengue, we'll toss it out in the basura. Plus, we think it's closed. We don't really know, as we don't hang out there after dark—downtown is dangerous at night, que no? The point is, classifying something as "Latin" is more dificil than, say, blues or hip-hop. But, if we were to go with the usual gabacho perspective, we'd choose Escapade 2009. It's giant—muy grande—with many subdivided areas and Latin genres to choose from: reggaeton, traditional, Latin pop, y muchas mas. Come to think of it, it's all things Latin music, under one roof. ¿Comprende?
A couple of years ago, Tony Bones was a wayward kid with a can of spray paint, tagging brick walls, cargo trucks and, well, any flat surface with his signature stick figures. His graffiti addiction earned him a criminal record and years of probation. But Bones rallied, moving his artistic inclinations from the streets to the walls of the art world. Featured at Deep Ellum's Kettle Art Gallery and on posters, T-shirts and even the album cover for former mayoral hopeful Zac Crain's benefit CD, Bones' work includes signature themes such as lanky, long-fingered figures, skulls and stylized animals bursting with primary colors. In the stuffy world of gallery art, Bones' punk sensibility stands out, proof that he's still got a lot of that anti-establishment tagger deep in his soul.
Best Leisurely Lunch Hour
Hanging with the sloth at the Dallas World Aquarium
The workday can get so hectic you just need a breather from computers and voicemails and people you spend at least 40 hours a week with. Head downtown to the Dallas World Aquarium and take a lesson from a creature who really knows how to slow down. For the price of a counter-service lunch, you can cruise on through to visit a three-toed sloth. We've gotten to know Bella, our fave, but we hear the other two, Leno and Samba, are just as slow-going and amiable. Take a lean and watch the hairy mammal hang out on its tree, moving in slo-mo. Unlike other exhibits at the aquarium, the sloth isn't caged or enclosed, but free to reach out and slowly latch onto someone's hair (a highlight from one of our visits) or grab camera straps. But most often, they just appear to sleep. They're models of how to relax.
Best Literary Festival
Mayborn Literary Nonfiction Writers Conference
This summertime gathering (in Grapevine, of all places) brings writers, editors, agents and journalists to one of the premier literary events in the nation. Last year, Gay Talese, arguably the greatest living magazine scribe, was keynote speaker. This year's stars included three-time Nobel Prize nominee Joyce Carol Oates and Lawrence Wright, Pulitzer winner for The Looming Tower. In its third year, the conference is being hailed as the best of its kind for writers of literary nonfiction. The schedule for the three-day event typically includes workshops on freelance magazine writing, finding narratives in true tales and how to reconstruct dialogue and scenes in sports stories (taught this year by Sports Illustrated's Bill Nack). Agents, authors and would-be authors are spreading the good word about this confab. If you're a writer, it's the place to be if you want to be read.
A music venue is more than four walls and a sound system (even if, as in the case of the House of Blues, it's a mind-blowingly stellar sound system). Three years ago, CD World owner Mike Schoder—he of the perfectly casual blond coif and the laidback surfer's grin—bought the storied Granada Theater, which over the years housed everything from Cowboys watching parties to screenings of The Godfather, and it has evolved into the spot for those who eschew corporate-owned venues, for those who would rather attend the Baboon CD release party than a Justin Timberlake show and those who would rather hear Animal Collective than Creed. Schoder's decision to hire local scenester Kris Youmans as a booking agent has improved the caliber of shows dramatically; even with the Charles Attals of the world pushing the majority of artists toward the House of Blues and Palladium, the Granada's blend of indie groups, giant-name artists and local luminaries—everyone from Devendra Banhart to Lucinda Williams to Ghosthustler—has something for anyone who has an ounce of taste. Oh, and don't worry, they still have the Cowboys watching parties.
We hate to say it. It's almost a cliché. We know that there were so many brilliant contenders for this category, it's almost a shame to decide on the Spree. But damn that Tim DeLaughter, he just keeps coming at us with such transcendent stuff that ultimately we must admit This Fragile Army wins as best local release. This, the Spree's third disc, finds the army of love ditching the robes and donning gray uniforms, reflecting the slightly darker, though still ultimately optimistic, fare of the band. You'll still find the usual Polyphonic outpouring of music, a joyous chorus of horns and harps and layered, ecstatic vocals, but what makes this the best CD of the year is the subtle smarts behind it. The Spree would have looked stupid blithely barreling along with its Zoloft-coated message; by admitting the world is currently screwed, DeLaughter et al. maintain their credibility, all with songs of gorgeous, sweeping scope.
So many to choose from...and that's the problem. WeShotJR, BigDlittled, Boca Tinta, the Fine Line—and these are just the best-known tip of the iceberg—are all fine and dandy, and we appreciate each for its particular personality. Each gets the straight-up skinny, albeit with a few snags here and there (the fallout from the Great Matthew and the Arrogant Sea Debacle at weshotjr is just now subsiding), but here's the thing: The pissiness turns us off. Sometimes it's the bloggers themselves, other times it's the commenters, but there are always unintelligent, needle-sharp barbs and/or general stupidity plaguing these and other URLs about town. Thus, we choose an unexpected winner—pegasusnews.com's music section. This sucker has every single thing you need to know about the music world of DFW. Bands divided by genre or venue played; venues divided by genre or neighborhood; every single freakin' gig going on within LBJ and beyond, regardless of how significant or not, all there with an easy-to-use interface and lack of attitude. Now that's news we can use.
Best Music History Lesson
"The Stars Come Out in the Afternoon With Redbeard on Lone Star 92.5"
Used to, we immediately hooked up the iPod for the drive home. That was before Lone Star 92.5 came around, putting Redbeard back in our ears right where he should be. At afternoon drive time, 'Beard often nestles a little nugget of the past in with his mix of outlaw country and bluesy rock in the form of what we like to call a flashback interview. Before launching into an iconic single, he'll play a snippet of some dialogue he shared years, sometimes decades, ago with musical legends. We were surprisingly enthralled by ZZ Top and then honestly teary, thanks to some time with George Harrison circa Traveling Wilburys days. Then there've been Clapton, Petty, Stevie Ray and more. It's something you don't hear much from newer DJs these days—the desire to educate audiences on where the good stuff came from and how legendary songs came about. Just like the best teachers, Redbeard makes history come to life...or back to life, every once in a while.
Opera's loss is musical theater's gain with this super-talented 32-year-old thesp. The Oak Cliff native and Arts Magnet High School grad headed off to the Eastman School of Music hoping one day to sing Othello at The Met. "But opera was too restrictive for me," says Cedric Neal, now one of Dallas theater's busiest singer-dancer-actors. He most recently starred in Uptown Players' hit tick, tick...BOOM! (by the composer of Rent) and in WaterTower Theatre's Brief History of White Music. Since making his local debut in Uptown's The Life in 2003, Neal hasn't stopped working. And when he's not singing his heart out, he's in church. Oak Cliff's Inspiring Body of Christ Church, to be precise. This spirited actor says he has three dream roles in his musical future: Tony in West Side Story, Fiyero in Wicked and one of the puppets in Avenue Q. Glad this guy likes to sing for his supper.
Beauty pageant pretty Cara Serber, 33, played against type last season by faking a space between her perfect teeth, putting on a gee-haw accent and yukking it up as one of the trashy leads in WaterTower Theatre's Great American Trailer Park Musical (a role she's currently reprising at the Addison playhouse through October 21). The tall blonde then vamped it up as the big-boobed Sharon Tate role in Uptown's adaptation of the pill-popping kitsch musical Valley of the Dolls. Singing Sondheim for Into the Woods or shaking her tail feathers as one of the down-home tarts in Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, Serber is hot stuff with both the music and the comedy. Offstage she's a North Dallas wife and mother of a Serber baby. Some of her neighbors, she says, never even knew she played the title role of a cheerleader-turned-porn-star in Kitchen Dog's production of the musical spoof Debbie Does Dallas. That's the life of an actress: Here today, whore tomorrow.
For some reason, the city of Allen has this weird idea that suburban people like trees, rivers, parks and walking trails. Rather than letting developers tear down any tree in their path in the name of one more knockoff subdivision with no personality or soul, the city of Allen has carved out large chunks of natural Texas land and reserved it for parks and trails. This trail is hard to find, but it's worth it. It's just off Alma and Rollins, down a paved bike path. Head in the direction of the trees, and not the overpass, and you'll find it. Once you do, there's no mistaking where you are. You're in the middle of a true Texas forest. The Trail at the Woods is nicely marked, and the actual trail is level and well-maintained. There are 10 trails in all, some of which overlook the Trinity River. Along the trails there are also little stands with information on the types of trees and wildlife that live in the forest. Look around, you might see a squirrel, a cardinal or maybe even a deer. There's no better place in the metroplex to forget that you live in a suburban wasteland.
Best New Dallas Playwright
Matt Lyle, Bootstraps Comedy Theater
Some playwrights want to be the next Chekhov or Albee. Matt Lyle, 29, just wants to be the guy who writes the plays that make you laugh out loud. He's been doing that for the past few years in his role as resident playwright and founding artistic director of tiny Bootstraps Comedy Theater. With actress-wife Kim as his muse, Lyle experiments with styles and subjects in his writing. Sunny & Eddie Sitting in a Tree, which premiered at the Festival of Independent Theatres in 2006, was a Woody Allen-style farce about neurotics who meet in their therapist's office. Then, inspired by the early films of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton, he pounded out The Boxer, an homage to the precisely choreographed physical comedy bits of the great silents. An audience fave at this year's FIT, the dialogue-free play starred Kim as a Chaplinesque heroine in baggy pants. In 40 minutes of wordless storytelling, The Boxer turned snickers into guffaws into knee-pounding belly laughs and left audiences ga-ga with admiration for Lyle's talent as a writer of a comedy that felt both classic and fresh. A day job at Dallas Children's Theater keeps Lyle's rent paid. And maybe it also keeps the kid in him from growing up and getting serious too soon.
When Dallas theaters schedule coinciding opening nights, as they frequently do, Uptown Players' wily producers know critics and in-the-know theatergoers will be in their seats at the KD Studio Theatre not just for the newest Uptown play but for the cuisine after the curtain calls. Free for opening nighters, Uptown's lavish buffet of hot hors d'oeuvres and champagne punch is a big part of the fun at this gay-themed theater company. Silver Tray Catering (www.silvertraycatering.com) provides the meatballs, tiny beef Wellingtons, sushi bites and other finger foods. Delicious Cakes (www.deliciouscakes.com) comes up with a wondrous, buttercream-frosted pastry themed to every new show. Ask any Uptown opening nighter why they're not at Contemporary for that house's premiere performance instead and the answer always comes up "Cake!" When the actors make their appearances at the Uptown party, their audience is already well-fed and half-sloshed. We'd applaud Uptown's good taste in goodies, but our hands are full of chicken kebabs and mini-quiches.
Back when Lee Harvey's first opened, we loved the yard but couldn't stand the bathroom situation. With only a one-holer for both sexes, our beer-laden bladders just couldn't take it—that is until someone hipped us to the bar's side trough, where men are men and the lines are nonexistent. The trough also affords chances for some primo pee-talk, most of it consisting of things like "Man, this bar is awesome," "Man, ain't Texas great?" and "Man, I'm so glad I'm not a chick."
Best Park Building
Big Thicket Recreation Building, White Rock Lake East Lawther toward the Mockingbird Lane end of the lake, across from the Corinthian Sailing Club
The Big Thicket Recreation Building, built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s, is a classic example of "WPA Rustic" architecture, made of natural materials and designed to meld handsomely into a natural setting. It was in pretty tough shape a few years ago when Home Depot and the all-volunteer Friends of the Lake took on the task of restoring it. They replaced a wrap-around porch and persuaded the grandson of the original artisan to come back and replace the light fixtures, among other tasks. This year the building won an award from Preservation Texas. You can rent it for about 60 bucks an hour by calling the number above. Holds about 50 people. Great place for a party.
This downtown rooftop is a must for anyone who enjoys fresh air and quality tequila. As the business day winds down in the summertime, the bar fills and the Herradura starts to flow in time with the large fountain near the stairwell. The place has more than 80 types of Mexican tequila. To sample it, order the tequila flight, three half-ounce glasses of silver, reposado and anejo. The names are as rich as the tastes: Cabo Wabo, El Conquistador, Corazon, Don Julio. And if you're not up for the straight shots, there's a wide selection of margaritas. They've got all the usual fruity varieties, but our favorite is the Cactus Juice, with Midori melon liqueur and blue curacao. Just watch your step on the way down the stairs at the end of the evening.
Best Place for a Kids' Party
Ridgewood/Belcher Recreation Center
Ridgewood Splash Park is one of the few public places in Dallas (besides your garden hose) to cool off for free. True, you can't practice your backstroke, but you also don't have to worry about your kids wandering off and drowning, or teenagers doing annoying cannonballs onto your head. Though the park is obviously geared toward kiddos, we saw several adults enjoying the cooling ground and arch sprays while their tots frolicked nearby. An adjacent playground and covered pavilion with picnic tables offer shade and entertainment for kids who don't want to get wet. But honestly, what kid doesn't want to get wet? Stake out your party table early (the park opens at 10 a.m. May through September) as the park can get crowded in the hot midday hours.
You can shut out the hum of Interstate 20 in the distance and pretend you're ensconced in an urban prairie wilderness at Cedar Hill State Park, situated on Joe Pool Lake. Some parts of the 1,800-acre park, such as historic Penn Farm, have swaths of prairie grass like the area's earliest settlers would have found. The biggest attraction here, though, is the more than 350 wooded campsites, perfect for a quick retreat from city life. The state park also features mountain bike and hiking trails, swimming in Joe Pool Lake and fishing, which is free with state park admission. (Not that we've ever caught anything.) Oh, and the occasional tarantula or scorpion.
Best Place to Catch a Yankee Game
The Ballpark at Arlington
So much for those who root, root, root for the home team. There's a reason why Yankee fans call Arlington the West Bronx. Not only do the New York Yankees almost always win here, they do so in front of adoring fans dressed in Yankee pinstripes. Typically, when the Yankees play the Rangers, there are about twice as many fans of the away team as there are of the home team, and that ratio only increases every time a Rangers pitcher gives up another home run. It can be a little unsettling actually, watching and hearing Derek Jeter et al. garner lusty cheers each time they drive another runner home, but then again you can't blame the Rangers fans for staying quiet. They haven't exactly had a lot to cheer for recently. But hey, at least they don't have to drive to the Bronx to catch their team.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox's quote began, "Laugh, and the world laughs with you." At Ad-Libs, it would be more appropriate to say, "Laugh, and it's probably because you suggested a topic, the cast took it and ran and turned out something sidesplitting that no one was expecting." Such is the magic of improvisational comedy. So often, we flip channels and hit Whose Line Is It Anyway? (British and American versions) and end up glad Dallas has its own live version just downtown...and since 1986. The cast includes voice actors of kick-ass cartoons and a guy who actually worked with Charles Nelson Reilly (God rest his brilliant soul). The shows are high-energy and pretty painful considering the ab workout from laughing so hard for an hour and a half. Director Phil Larsson says more than 750,000 audience members have provided funny fodder and laughed at the cast of Ad-Libs. If we didn't tell you it's worthy entertainment, that number should. Anybody got a line?
Best Place to Pretend You're in Vegas
Grand Lux Café at the Galleria
As soon as you walk through the enormous double doors, you may as well be at the Venetian in Vegas. In fact, that's where the flagship location is. The restaurant is designed to evoke the opulent Old World cafes of France and Italy, which fits well with the Galleria, which was modeled after a center in Milan. Yet this is a quintessentially American restaurant, just as Vegas is a quintessentially American creation. The portions are vast, as is the dining room, with high, sweeping ceilings, elaborate fabrics and mosaics in the style of a Venetian carnival. Surrounded by marble and well-dressed folks toting shopping bags, it's easy to pretend you're on the strip, making your way from the Venetian to the Bellagio.
Photographers love this verdant spot overlooking Turtle Creek. Magic time for photography on the pretty wooden bridge in Lakeside Park is just before sunset. With the sky lit up with streaks of pink and orange behind the cottonwood trees, a light breeze off the water gently ruffling hair and veil, brides strike portrait poses that will fill family scrapbooks. On almost any clear night, joggers and walkers at this busy park have to detour around young ladies in flowing white gowns, standing like beautiful apparitions above the water. That's OK. They perfectly complement the azaleas and water lilies.
At the Dragonfly, a poolside bar at Hotel ZaZa, located on the edge of Uptown, cougars roam wild, relentlessly stalking their prey. There, dressed in short skirts, barely longer than a Post-It note, and blouses exposing everything but the nipple, the over-tanned cougar chats idly with her friends until a young male, typically dressed in pleated khakis and a sleeveless tee, wanders near her den. Then she'll strike, typically with an alluring look or a coy joke delivered through her whisky-soaked pipes and the young man is unable to resist her charms, unluckily oblivious to the aged hide of the cougar, thanks to the soft lighting that barely pokes through the evening air.
Are you morally unrestrained? Do you believe in extreme freedom? Can you defy social and religious norms? Above all, might you love gourmet macaroni and cheese? If so, you're probably a libertine, which means you should drink at the Libertine Bar with your libertine friends, ordering copious amounts of delicious Fin du Monde beer. The Lower Greenville outpost, founded by the owners of the equally impressive Meridian Room, features a debauched European theme complete with a giant painting of a naked girl, an extensive collection of specialty beers and some of the highest quality bar food a liberated soul could want. And since the bar's name sounds like something out of history class, indeed, because it is something out of history class, the clientele tends to be a little more intellectual than, say, the ones doing tequila shots down the street at the Tiger Room. Vive la revolution!
It would be tough for any city to build a public swimming pool better than this one. Among other features, it has 7,000 square feet of leisure water (which includes a "lazy river," water slides and a playground right in the middle of the pool) and a 25-yard by 25-meter competition pool. The pool sits in a spot that also includes a 5,000-square-foot fitness facility, an aerobics room and a climbing wall. Throughout the year, the natatorium also offers classes, from scuba instruction to yoga. The facility isn't free; year-round membership for adult residents is $165, for non-residents it's $235 (or $4 to $5 will get you in for the day), but that's quite a bargain compared with private facilities that offer similar services.
We usually feel a little iffy when children show up at a bar. Should we tone down the profanity? (Fuck no.) Did they just hear that lewd joke? (Ask your mama, twerp.) What do you do when the half-pints ask for a pint? ("No, Junior, last time you said you wanted a Black & Tan, I bought you one and you didn't even drink half. Finish your juice box and then we'll see.") At the Tipperary Inn, though the bar is prominent and most of the patrons are drinking alcohol, the atmosphere is family-friendly. So while you may come for a draught, you'll bring your family back for the food. Choose traditional pub favorites such as chips and curry, Guinness beef stew, shepherd's pie and boxty.
Best Public Humiliation
McCarty's Tavern Comedy Open Mike Night
Most Tuesday night McCarty's patrons go there to drink. They don't want to be badgered by someone with a microphone telling lame jokes about their crappy lives, their cat's wacky antics or their mother-in-law's bad habits. But anywhere between 10 and 20 aspiring comedians show up every Tuesday to do just that, regardless. Anyone with a serious sense of schadenfreude will have a great time, therefore, because there's nothing like watching someone else humiliate herself while you hide safely behind a pint of something delicious. Feel free to heckle too. Comics love that. Make 'em cry if you can. At least it lets them know you're listening.
If you want to convince your kids that reading is cool, bring them here. Opened in 2005, this sleek $11.6 million library is 54,000 square feet of books, computer labs and auditorium. The "Teenscape" room is identified by a light blue neon sign, and at the entrance to the children's library there's a fully stocked aquarium. The best feature? It has a 250,000-book capacity and also partners with the Plano Public Library System. If Allen doesn't have the book on their shelves, they can get it for you. Best of all, you don't have to be a resident of Allen to use this library. Call it the open-book policy.
Dallas-based blogger-mom Tina Chen Craig and her best friend Kelly Tsou Cook love handbags. Crave them. Obsess about them. On their site, they write as the connoisseurs of the perfect posh purses. The new python Devi Kroell Carlyle clutch at Barney's? They declare it "delicious" even at $1,100. The $600 ruched Kooba tote? A "cheap thrill." But thumbs down for the Paul Smith Violet, which the Bag Snobbers say looks like a "melted rainbow sherbet ice cream cone." These trend-spotters, who've already spun off five other fashion blogs, including TotSnob.com, are filling their pockets with earnings from their pocketbook critiques, thanks to advertising from big-name designers and retailers. They're now invited to major runway shows, and they create fashion industry buzz that's been noted in French and Japanese Vogue, the Times of London and on the E! channel. Fashion editors everywhere now count on the Bag Snobs for the final word on what to tuck under those skinny arms each season.
While the white-bread DJs come and go, or sometimes stay, and harangue our ears with a diluted version of Howard Stern's shtick or faux-independent rock, Hedkrack keeps it real. A Bronx native, the northerner crossed the Mason-Dixon line to bring DFW a much-needed taste of hip-hop. His show on 97.9 is good, yes, but what lifts Hedkrack above the fray is his talent, community involvement and participation in the music scene. That and, you know, his crazy dreads.
What does Lone Star, which just switched formats this past year, have going for it? 1) They brought back famed local DJ Redbeard (isn't it gray by now?). 2) They have no freakin' commercials or, at least, "traditional" commercials. Instead they rely on "charter sponsors" like AT&T, Coors and Southwest Airlines. 3) Willie Nelson is the voice of the station. 4) They play the best damn outlaw country/rock/beer-swillin'/rehabbin' music in the state. Local boys Old 97's and Stevie Ray Vaughan butt up against pre-"Legs" ZZ top and the James Gang.
Normally, we wouldn't suggest taking public transportation in Dallas. We love the environment and all, but let's face it, unless you have a few hours to spare or you're traveling to the zoo, the Angelika or the American Airlines Center, Big D is way too spread out for the system to work efficiently without some more rail lines (which are on the way). But parking at places like Eatzi's, Lincoln Park, the West Village and Mockingbird Station makes us want to give up driving. What is this—Britain? Why do they paint "compact" parking spots for Mini Coopers when everyone's driving Hummers, Tahoes and F-250s? And if that's you who put all the dings in our doors, just remember: Car karma is a bitch. And next time, we're hopping the train.
Why not walk a few miles, raise funds for a worthy organization and have a blast doing it? That's exactly what participants in this annual event say. Now in its 17th year, LifeWalk is the largest fund-raising event for Aids Arms Inc., whose purpose is to assist individuals in accessing the health care, resources and support necessary to successfully manage the challenges of living with HIV/AIDS. Corporations, civic, religious and neighborhood groups and individuals participate in the 5K Fun Run/Walk with funds pledged by teams and individuals (this year on October 14 at Lee Park). Walk the walk, then stick around for the afternoon festival with food, libations, live entertainment, vendors and information booths. This event provides a family- and pet-friendly atmosphere and attracts a multidimensional crowd supportive of community diversity. One hundred percent of the money raised from LifeWalk goes directly to programs supporting HIV-affected individuals and families.
Oh, sure, with its sprawling, asphalt-surrounded strip-mall kinda thing going on, Firewater may provide an apt analogy for the geography of our fair burg, and it ain't gonna win any architectural awards, but the place is friendly and roomy, the beer cheap and cold. The interior has no special qualities other than that it reminds one of the interior of a ship—long galleys and strange twists amidst a generally open interior—but it's Firewater's outdoor stage that really makes it worth a slightly heavy cover charge. Outside is a wooden deck, flanked on one side with a three-headed mini-Bellagio fountain and on the other by a long bar. The deck is fronted by the stage, which holds your usual cast of characters (everyone from KISS cover bands to DOMA winners Mad Mexicans to hard rockers Max Cady), and we defy any club in town to put together a better sound system. Even outside, amidst the soft, maddening, staticky noise of the fountains, your band is gonna sound good. Damn good.
Feeling down on yourself? Need a night out with the crew to blow off some steam? Kill two birds with one stone with a trip to Winstar, the gambling mecca located just across the border in Oklahoma on I-35. Sure, if you're looking for table games, you'll find Winstar somewhat lacking, but if it's video slots and people-watching you desire, look no further. Holiday nights are especially productive since the casino is packed with big hair and bigger dreams—on our last all-night trip we easily lost $100, but then we spotted a woman cradling a baby in the parking lot, patiently waiting in an F-250 as Daddy tried to win some diaper money inside. After that we didn't feel that bad anymore.
Theatergoers who know his work smile when they see B.J. Cleveland's name in the program. Something about his moonfaced mug just glows, and when he's really on, he could light up a five-state area. Now in his 25th season as artistic director at Theatre Arlington, Cleveland has acted in 362 roles (by his count) since he started in showbiz at age 6. He's averaged no fewer than six shows a year since and doesn't plan to slow down. Last season's highlight was his romp as Mad King Ludwig in Uptown Players' Valhalla. This season he'll be directing Studs Terkel's Working at TA and then acting in Moonlight and Magnolias. He's played The Music Man and George M! and giggled like a goose in a white wig as Mozart in Amadeus. Happy to play the sad clown, Cleveland is the area's funniest character actor. All those comparisons to Nathan Lane don't even bother him anymore. "Physically I would covet being synonymous with Brad Pitt," he says. "But there's lots of life left for character actors. Take that, Zac Efron!"
Sure, to get there you have to drive an hour and a half through the corrugated tin and abandoned bass boat architecture of un-beautiful Upper East Texas. But you need to think of a search for pretty country near Dallas sort of the same way you might think of escape from Alacatraz. It's not supposed to be easy. When you get to Mineola, keep going a few miles east out of town and then head north on any halfway decent-looking road. You will find yourself in a land of rolling hills, tall pines and glittering lakes. It could be Wisconsin, if you took away the ticks and water moccasins. Well, and the people. It's very pretty country, and it's way less than a plane ride away from Dallas. Bet you didn't know that was possible, eh?
You already know that Good Records is the best record store in town. OK, maybe it's the only real record store left in this chain store-dominated burg. But it's also the most kid-friendly record store we've ever been to. A few times a year, Good Records has in-store performances especially geared toward young ears. There is no better example than the Gustafer Yellowgold shows. The creation of singer-songwriter-illustrator Morgan Taylor, Gustafer Yellowgold is a fantasy creature with weird friends who seem to have skipped straight out of a Dr. Seuss book. It's a great way to introduce kids to music that's not only fun, but also rocks. And that's just one way the coolest record store in town makes parents feel at home. Check out the plastic bin of toys the store's owners keep on hand to entertain little rockers while you browse. This sort of attention to future record-buyers is music to our ears.
Best Shows With Strings Attached
Kathy Burks' Theatre of Puppetry Arts
For almost 35 years Kathy Burks has designed and produced puppet shows that make high art of non-human figures brought to life with strings, rods and hands. From a collection of puppets and marionettes that goes back to the early 1900s, Burks and her expert puppeteers make the characters so real that children in the audience, given the chance for post-show Q&A, will often address the puppets directly, completely ignoring the black-clad actors holding them. Magical shows such as Frog Prince and Velveteen Rabbit, presented at Dallas Children's Theater, home to Burks and her creations for the past decade, appeal to the kid in all of us. This company makes "wooden acting" a good thing.
Best Sleeper (Car) Attraction
Museum of the American Railroad
History buffs, especially the little ones, would be remiss if they never visited this gem in Fair Park. The Museum of the American Railroad (formerly the Age of Steam Railway Museum) boasts more than 30 pieces of actual railroad equipment. Like, real reach-out-and-touch-'em old-school locomotives. Pullman sleeper cars, dining cars and a complete passenger train from pre-World War II days are just some of the pieces that constitute the impressive collection. And for those less "all aboard," the memorabilia (signs, china and more) in the depot represents stunning history. A visit to the MAR transports you back to the days when people dressed to travel and Cary Grant narrowly escaped the bad guys in a too-short steward's uniform in North by Northwest.
Comedy is their middle name. This 3-year-old theater company, founded by drama grads from Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogdoches, has built a fine following as the go-to group for a great big laugh. In their mission statement, founders Matt and Kim Lyle vow to use comedy to "break down the walls that exist between people shackled by societal norms." And if that means tripping and falling through a wall onstage, they're happy to do it. Scoring hits at the past two Festivals of Independent Theatres with Matt's plays Sunny & Eddie Sitting in a Tree and The Boxer (being revived for another run at the studio space at Dallas Children's Theater in mid-November), the Bootstrappers are pulling themselves up to stand as Dallas' funniest, most inventive young theater troupe. These Lumberjacks (that's the SFASU mascot) are OK.
When Bobcat transitioned a few months ago from his longtime spot behind the board at Club Dada to the one just down the street at Darkside, he left a trail of legend and, even more important, genius ability behind him. This is a man who reportedly romanced Julie Napol of Concrete Blonde, a man who constantly is courted by touring bands to drop what he's doing and come work for/with them, a man who can make your out-of-tune, two-chord experimental reggae punk jam band sound like the Rolling Fuckin' Stones. Or, you know, Mozart, since he also helmed the knobs at Bass Performance Hall. We actually don't know what makes Bobcat so good. It's one of those things that's mystifying, genius, like why you could play the same three notes the same way Jimi Hendrix played them and never sound like him at all. All we know is Bobcat makes the fair and middling sound like Fair to Midland, and he makes the great sound like a band fronted by God.
Mayoral candidate Sam Coats first threw out this suggestion in the spring as a way to jumpstart Dallas' kinda sorta revitalizing downtown, and he unwittingly started a lot of chatter on local sports talk shows. While there are all sorts of pragmatic concerns involved, including the unlikely approval of Major League Baseball, Coats' idea is at least more feasible than luring the Summer Olympics to Dallas. So if we had enough optimism to consider the latter proposal, we should at least take a look at making a push for a National League team in the Big D. Unlike Jerry Jones' football stadium, which will host only a handful of events a year, a baseball park would draw tens of thousands of people to downtown at least 81 times a year, which is the number of times a team plays at home. Besides, while the Ballpark at Arlington is a beautiful place to catch a game, there's absolutely nothing to do afterward other than visit the line of chain restaurants that litter Interstate 30. But a park in downtown Dallas wouldn't be just a one-stop shop. We imagine MLB Commissioner Bud Selig would balk at putting two baseball teams in North Texas, unless we can convince him that the Rangers don't count. It shouldn't be that hard.
Six years ago, Paul Varghese made his stand-up debut at a comedy writing class showcase at the Addison Improv. This July, Varghese worked a much bigger room: national television. Featured on Comedy Central's Live at Gotham, Varghese brought his wonky-smart comedy to the masses. His thirst for stage time keeps him going up at every open mike and bar show in town, so you don't have to have cable or cash for a two-drink minimum to see him. Varghese's attention to detail (he mentions his Charles in Charge T-shirt as an aside) keeps his material fresh, along with his self-deprecating nature and smooth, radio-announcer voice. Varghese's quiet, deadpanned jokes can earn laughs from the most jaded of audiences. You won't see him coming, but once he's captured you in his humorous lair, you'll want to see him come back for more.
It's been nearly 28 years since the 1979 incident that put the State Fair's Swiss Sky Ride out of action, killing one and injuring 17. Before that, the ride had been one of the Fair's top attractions, shuttling passengers back and forth across the Midway and providing a bird's-eye view of the neon-lit festivities. This year the fair will reopen a new version of the ride—renamed the Texas Skyway; the cable system of 34 gondolas comes complete with the latest and greatest safety features afforded by modern technology. It also marks the first permanent addition to the Midway since the opening of the Texas Star, and it's about time—we've been waiting more than 20 years for something else to challenge our fear of heights. So keep an eye out for us up there—we'll be the ones hyperventilating with our eyes closed.
Best Surreal Concert
The Gothic Archies at Waxahachie High School
We could hardly believe our eyes when we saw that Magnetic Field/Gothic Archie/indie-pop genius Stephin Merritt was accompanying one Daniel Handler, aka Lemony Snicket, on an October 2006 book tour promoting the final installment in the Snicket saga. And when we saw the tour was stopping not in Dallas proper, but in Frisco and Waxahachie, we were truly beside ourselves. Heartbroken. Despondent. How in the world could the young, lily-white suburbanites truly appreciate the man who brought us 69 Love Songs? But the little bastards really seem to like a ukulele tune, and that Snicket fella is damned entertaining. We could've done with a few more songs from Stephin, but seriously, we'd welcome back Handler anytime too. Hey, Harry Potter nerds, does your precious wizard hero have a sweet indie rock soundtrack? We didn't think so.
When the curtain first went up at this church-turned-playhouse off Lower Greenville six years ago, some were quick to sneer that it was merely a vanity project for owner, founder and resident leading lady Sue Loncar. But it didn't take long for audiences and critics to start appreciating CTD for doing something other Dallas theaters don't: Making sure everybody, onstage and off, has a good time. Loncar still loses money on most of her shows, which rival WaterTower and Dallas Theater Center for dollars spent on talent, sets and costumes. But then she comes up with a mass appeal hit like Best Little Whorehouse or Last Night of Ballyhoo and proves once again that giving theatergoers what they want (including booze at intermish) isn't a bad way to do showbiz. Along the way, Loncar's also become a strong actress in her own right, earning her best notices for the title role in this season's poignant Preston Jones comedy, Lu Ann Hampton Laverty Oberlander. CTD's rep as an important regional theater is growing too, and for all of Loncar's devotion to soft-sell plays, she's not entirely immune to art. Along with an annual revival of Ballyhoo (one of Loncar's all-time favorites to star in), the 2007-'08 season will feature A Streetcar Named Desire.
Actors love working with him and die-hard theatergoers know that when René Moreno is directing, chances are the results will be intensely entertaining. Comedies, dramas, musicals—the guy has a deft touch with every genre. This past season saw him helming Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? at Addison's WaterTower Theatre and Preston Jones' Lu Ann Hampton Laverty Oberlander at Contemporary Theatre of Dallas—two plays as different as caviar and banana puddin'. What's his secret for getting the best results from his casts? "He's not a one-size-fits-all type of director," says James Crawford, who starred in Moreno's production of Woolf. "He understands that not every play needs to be directed the same way. I trust his eye. Sometimes actors are afraid they'll look stupid when they do something onstage. But with René, you take more risks because you know he'll always make you look great." This season Moreno will take a big risk in his career, moving back to the acting arena to play the lead in Kitchen Dog's January production of Shakespeare's Richard III. Winter of our discontent theater-wise? Not with Moreno's penchant for perfection.
Why not make the best tourist attraction the first tourist attraction by creating an airport terminal as alluring as any strip mall the city has to offer? The distant traveler and welcome-home resident will find among their selections here top-notch eateries (Blue Mesa Taco Tequila Bar, Reata Grill and Cantina Laredo, for starters), sweet distractions (one of the few Ben & Jerry's you'll find in the area, a Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory) and yer-kiddin'-me shops (a Brooks Brothers?). It's accessible to any DFW flier via the way-fun SkyLink "high speed" train (that self-proclaimed "high speed" is intended as ironic, surely) and as we were reminded last week during an early-morning flight Terminal D's Smoothie King bests any local Jamba Juice. (And if we'd wanted an Einstein's bagel, well, we could've gotten that too.) They say the terminal's icky-sterile and phony-fancy, what with the Nasheriffic sculptures. We say feh to that, because why not welcome and adios your tourist with what Dallas does best: a huge mall planted in the middle of nowhere?
Reading the news ain't easy. Just ask Katie Couric. Good thing the local CBS affiliate has the master news reader behind the desk, at least until July 2008 when Tracy Rowlett is due to retire. Unlike Couric, Rowlett can read a TelePrompTer without looking like a nervous hostage. He's more than an empty suit with a handsome mug, having earned more than 100 journalism awards, including two DuPont-Columbia awards (considered the Pulitzer Prize for broadcast journalism). Sure, he can get serious, but his delivery always comes across as warm and genuine. In short, he's the kind of guy you don't mind spending a half-hour with, even when he's giving us bad news. That's why we're going to miss him.
We've romanced other newscasts in the past. KTVT-Channel 11 has had some strong reporting in recent years. But we have to come back to News 8 at 10 for four reasons (in alphabetical order): Harris, Heinbaugh, Reaves and Shipp. Everybody in the market, news professionals and viewers alike, all need to bend a knee and say thank you to the otherwise cruel and butt-headed gods of media that somebody had the sense to keep four solid hands on the staff at 8 (actually, make that three, now that Heinbaugh has decamped for City Hall to work for Mayor Tom Leppert). Any given day, Channel 8 is way ahead of the city's only daily paper on local news, breaking or investigative. News 8 not only gives the lie to the notion that TV news is fluffier than print, but we also find it very interesting that 8, owned by the same company that owns the News, wriggles out from under the Death Star and tells the truth more often. A big reason for that is the presence of mature staff reporters. Of course, now that we have gone and blabbed about it, they're doomed.
Best Unexpected Spot to Hear a DJ
Murray Street Coffee Shop
As we write this, we know some colleague is hunched over a laptop somewhere, pounding out words of deathless prose about the Best Coffee Shop in Dallas. We can only hope Murray Street Coffee has been chosen, but if it hasn't, the lovely little spot at Main and Murray streets needs at least a little cred for its mellow Wednesday night groove, complete with a DJ who rolls from experimental post-rock to deep reggae cuts—on vinyl, usually—whilst you sip your latte, Stella or mimosa. The sounds strike a perfect balance between background music and primary entertainment, as the mix snakes its way down the cute stairwell to the second floor, winding its way around your mod Plexiglas table and the pillows of the comfy vintage couch that holds your derriere. The owners of Murray Street are music heads, so there will always be something good on the sound system, but Wednesday nights are a special affair.
Best View of Downtown and the Trinity
Sylvan Avenue through the Trinity floodplain
Want to show someone the Trinity River, up close and personal? Just take them over the bridge on Sylvan Avenue, where the river flows leisurely mere feet below the road (or sometimes a few feet above the road, as it did in July), the Dallas skyline looming clear and unobstructed before you. There's even a place to pull over so you can take in the view, watch a pick-up soccer game, marvel at the egrets and hawks as they fly overhead and have a serious talk about what a shame it would be to see it all mussed up with a goddamn toll road.
Galleries located on small-town squares usually aren't exactly on the cutting edge of the art world. But in Waxahachie there's a rare jewel that doesn't traffic in bluebonnet photos and Thomas Kinkade prints. Since 1987, the Webb Gallery has been a haven for killer oddball stuff, a fitting description for the outsider art and folk detritus that adorns every available space in the 10,000-square-foot building off the Waxahachie square. Whether it's old carnival banners, a collection of creepy Masonic masks or a cubist painting of a country singer, you're sure to find something that will catch your eye and remind you how wonderfully weird the people of Texas can be.
At 15, this Hockaday School 10th-grader already has played the great trifecta of young girls' roles: Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker, Mary Lennox in The Secret Garden and Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird. She's a star in major productions at Dallas Children's Theater, where she also volunteers in their theater summer camps. "I loved acting from the first time I was onstage," says Pam, who first hit the boards at age 5. She also has an interest in moviemaking and every Father's Day makes a short film for her dad, Dick, a Dallas lawyer who shed a few tears as he watched Pam play young Helen Keller. She says she hopes to study at an "artsy college" and continue acting for as long as she can. "The best thing you can have is an audience that laughs or gasps in the right places," says Pam. "The audience is one of the greatest parts about acting." And fine acting like Pam's is one of the great things about being in the audience.
To reach Mistress Zaria's palace of pain, you must get on and off two freeways, negotiate tricky turns through a bland suburban subdivision, go over a bridge and continue right on through the looking glass. The black-clad kitten in spiked heels and Amy Winehouse eyeliner may or may not give you the most direct route to the rented two-story condo she uses for her appointments as a professional dominatrix. She often sends first-timers down a rabbit hole or two before allowing them to cross her threshold.
"If they finally make it, I might take them on," purrs Zaria (who will reveal only her nom de domme).
Pass the entrance exam and you will gain admittance to Mistress Zaria's "dungeon," a converted bedroom decorated in early Marquis de Sade. Black vinyl walls gleam under blood-red light bulbs, reflecting eerily in floor-to-ceiling mirrors. In the corner by blacked-out windows a massage table hulks under a thick vinyl sheet. A motorized hoist raises and lowers a leather swing.
In a closet hang tools of Zaria's trade: stiff wire brushes, brass knuckles, nipple clamps, paddles, riding crops, feather dusters, floggers, masks, blindfolds and gags. With her collection of props and contraptions, Zaria ties up, chains, handcuffs, whips, spanks and physically hurts and humiliates her clients, who pay $200 (and up) an hour for the privilege.
She'll grant almost any request as long as it's legal and not "too personal." Dominatrices do not have sex with the men (and very few women) who seek their services. Zaria's specialty is sadomasochism laced with fetishism. Want to be slapped, strapped, sat on and spit on? She's your girl. She'll fulfill your desire to have your bare fanny tanned by Wonder Woman (one of her most requested costumes), and she'll enthusiastically play the role of sassy secretary turning the tables on the boss. She'll shake Jacob Marley's chains for a naked make-believe Scrooge. But she won't do baby-diaper scenarios or "doctor stuff." Don't ask for strap-ons or "anal training." She has limits.
"One man wanted me to throw cream pies at him," Zaria says. "That sounded too easy, so I refused." Another offered to pay her $200 to take him to a barber for a haircut. "That was too much like a mommy thing. I didn't trust him."
Of her hundreds of clients—she books three to four a day, seven days a week, she says—at least 25 percent are into cross-dressing. They're the biggest flakes, she says, but she'll dress them up in frilly frocks and then dress them down, verbally, physically and emotionally, if they pay enough.
For more than a decade, Zaria, who's in her late 30s and has a degree in business, has entertained the whipping whims of a loyal clientele. She became a professional dominatrix—a woman who dominates others for pay—through her involvement in the local "leather community." A bondage-discipline-sadomasochism seminar taught safety measures such aspre-appointment phone interviews to weed out "weirdos." Good customer service, she learned, means no insulting penis size or weight—unless that's what the guy is into.
Who are her customers? Zaria says her average client is 45, white, Republican and holds a supervisory- or management-level position. He's married, has kids, goes to church and belongs to the country club. As often as twice a week, he visits Zaria's candlelit lair to give up all control and act the part of helpless submissive. In her appointment book are names of top executives at Merrill Lynch and American Airlines. Her youngest client is 22. Her oldest is 82.
At least a dozen professional dommes currently practice in the Dallas area. The legendary Mistress Ruth Cole, a 300-pound hard-core dominatrix, was the greatest of them all, by many accounts. She trained a number of currently practicing domination/submission specialists, including Mistress Zaria, before her sudden death in 1996.
Through conducting consensual acts of domination and submission for money, dommes permit clients to live out taboo fantasies in safe, sane environments. Relinquishing power to the domme, the submissive finds an emotional and erotic outlet. "Scenes," as sessions are called, use a "safe word" to prevent the dominatrix from going too far. "You have to be careful when you're dealing with someone's head," says Mistress Zaria. Some men say "no" or "stop" as part of their fantasy. Only by uttering the safe word—Zaria tells subs to say "mercy"—does all play end immediately.
In a quiet second-floor apartment overlooking a lake just outside the Dallas city limits, Mistress Montana looks more like a Junior League soccer mom than a veteran dominatrix. Dressed in a beige sweater, black skirt and leopard-print stomp-me pumps, the pretty 40-year-old blonde welcomes visitors into a living room appointed with beige furniture and watery art prints. She's a mother of two kids in private school and owns a home in an upscale bedroom community where neighbors have no idea she earns $200 to $300 a session applying hardwood paddles and cats o' nine tails to the pale buttocks of middle-aged CEOs, high-profile real estate developers and at least one local TV newsman.
A typical appointment involves conversation, maybe some light refreshments, then a trip to her dungeon. Montana's recreation room is a windowless red and black den filled with things that make men go "ouch," including a full-body swing that supports up to 850 pounds. Speaking in a hypnotic murmur, Montana will blindfold a client, run her fingernails up and down his naked torso—"I like to say I'm inspecting my property"—then transition to the dark side. "They can tell me what they like, but in here, it's my gig," says Montana, who expresses a preference for hardwood spanking devices. Like Mistress Zaria, her safe word is "mercy."
Montana was drawn toward domme-dom after working as a phone-sex operator 20 years ago. Most callers were submissives seeking discipline from a sexy-sounding dame. "I did research into the psychology of it, into the profile of the person who longs for that. It's almost like being a sex therapist," says Mistress Montana. "So many of them, their mamas really messed them up. They can't talk to anyone else about what they need. They'd feel too exposed telling their wives. So they come to me on their lunch hour."
What she won't do: fisting, knife play, blood sports, "brown showers" (look it up at your peril) and "Roman showers," which Zaria won't do either. (Don't look that last one up. You don't want to know.) She also refuses to take on personal slaves who want to dress like French maids and do household chores. "They never get the floor clean, and they're always underfoot," Montana says.
One of her favorite games involves attaching a line of wooden clothespins to sensitive areas, then suddenly ripping them away. Mercy. — Elaine Liner
You couldn't turn on a Top-40 radio station this year without hearing Justin Timberlake's bold declaration: "I'm bringing sexy back." At first, his claim seemed silly. Sexy told us it loved us, and it made us breakfast. But then sexy never called. Actresses lost so much weight that ribs became the new breasts. We were forced to visualize Senator Larry Craig legislating all over some dude in an airport bathroom. And in a final, crushing blow, Jenna Jameson gave up pornography, for fuck's sake (or, rather, for not fucking's sake.)
But watching sweet J.T. slink across a stage or a television screen does remind us that once, there was sexy. The same thing happens when you walk into the Velvet Hookah. Oversized plush cushions cover the floor, surrounded by gauzy jewel-toned curtains. Dim lighting casts shadows on the elaborate, phallic glass hookahs on every table. (There are no talking caterpillars sitting atop mushrooms, but if you have enough 'shrooms before you go, there might be.) The music, a blend of house, lounge and world beats, snakes suggestively through the Velvet Hookah's three smoking rooms, coaxing conversation, not silencing it.
"Sexy never left," says Jei Baker, the Velvet Hookah's founder and self-described "brand architect." "It was just over here." Even at its busiest, the bar is serene. Hookah requires nothing more than sitting and smoking. Low seating encourages guests to lean close together. Soft-focus lighting works better than the best beer goggles.
Memo to Dallas' exclusive, swanky nightspots perched atop certain luxury hotels with one-letter names: Sexy isn't about shoving remixed Top-40 hits into people's ears, charging $11 for drinks and encouraging patrons to dry hump on the dance floor before they even get a chance to swap names. That's just Carson's Live with a bigger tab at the end of the night. Real luxury is about a unique experience. And there's no place in town like Deep Ellum's Velvet Hookah.
"We have the best shisha in the world," Baker says, using the aficionado's term for specially flavored hookah tobacco, which he imports from Jordan before curing and flavoring every batch himself. Baker started making the Velvet Hookah's special proprietary blends when the bar opened on September 4, 2002. In five years, Baker has created 169 flavors of shisha.
Some restaurants may have hookah, says Baker, but nobody does it like Velvet. That's because, he says, he started the business without "the pre-sets that become limitations." Baker's a guy from southern Dallas. He used to travel a lot when he worked for Club Med before opening the bar, but he knew little about Arab culture, in which the hookah was popularized. And so mixing liquor with hookah, something Arabs would never do, didn't seem illogical to Baker. The Velvet Hookah was born after Baker's original business partner tried to join the dot-com boom by selling hookahs online. The site didn't take off, and "we had a garage full of hookahs."
With hookah, there's the sense that what you're smoking is actually a gas, not a cloud of filtered additives. Shisha is three things: tobacco, molasses or honey, which is used for curing; and fruit flavors or essences. The tobacco isn't burned, it's baked. Velvet uses traditional Egyptian hookahs, with one or two hoses. That engenders conversation, which was the original purpose of hookah.
"If you have the hookah," Baker says late one Monday night when the bar is closed, "you have the floor." He takes a hit of an orange-flavored blend in a miniature hookah he carries with him. "Mo-bowl technology," he calls it.
The Velvet Hookah, in the heart of Deep Ellum at the corner of Main and Crowdus streets, is an anchor in an area besieged by controversy and economic hardship.
It's hard, he says, staying afloat while the city's tearing up the northern access points to Deep Ellum to put in a DART station. And the homeless people are a problem too. But, he says, "violent crime doesn't happen down here," thanks to an increased police presence. Baker focuses on the future Deep Ellum. If that means losing the grit and grime that some believe are the soul of the neighborhood, too bad. "Gentrification is what it is," he says. And the Velvet Hookah is about constant reinvention.
When tall, modern tables and stark décor didn't work, they went Mediterranean. Belly dancing was OK for a while, but not anymore. Instead, Baker says, he's bringing in a Cirque du Soleil-trained trapeze act. And starting this month, Baker began selling trademarked Velvet Hookah shisha blends online. A fine idea, but the communal Velvet Hookah experience is a difficult one to replicate.
"All week long we section ourselves off" in cubicles and cars, Baker says. That's why there's only bar service these days at Velvet, no table service. It creates flow, which creates conversation, which creates community. And forcing people to ask for shisha blends called "Floral Fixation" and "Le Petite Mort," well, that creates sexy time. — Andrea Grimes
Some of us spend way too much time in the dark—the literal dark, not the figurative—and there's but one theater in town in which we'd choose to spend that time: the AMC NorthPark 15, which has been open for about a year and already distinguished itself as the area's finest googolplex. We dig everything about it, from the self-serve kiosks lined up downstairs to the view of the NorthPark Garden from the upstairs lobby, in which we've been known to kick back before a screening just 'cause it's there. (No videogames, only a view to a chill.) And, of course, the theaters themselves are all you could ask for: comfy chairs, enormo screen, boomin' loud speakers, plenty of room to let a movie like Transformers run amok in the aisles. And if the movie sucks, well, you could always walk out and head into the best mall in town; our kid does it all the friggin' time.
Deep Ellum's Club Dada has been around for 21 years, its venerable chipped brick walls and cozy stage welcoming the most storied of Dallas—and national—musicians. Everyone was all ape-shit about Trees back in the day, but Dada's the one that lasted, and Dada's the one that packs the joint with Hot Hot Heat one night, with Hendrick the next, then with Hard Night's Day and then with a community barbecue on the newly revamped, friendly back patio. It may just be the most eclectic spot in town, and that's as alternative as it gets.
Either you already know about this gem or you're wondering who in their right mind would traipse through the cement city of Dallas with binoculars looking for exotic birds. White Rock Lake has numerous places to observe a variety of winged creatures throughout the year, but these are our favorites. There's the beach by the boathouse, which depending on the season is party central for various types of ducks, red-winged blackbirds, great egrets, herons and pelicans. Nearby is the hill behind the beach, where hundreds of green monk parakeets live in complex nests among the power lines, and farther east the spillway at the intersection of Garland and Winsted roads. Especially after a rain, it's an aviary that puts any zoo to shame. Sunset is best, so bring a date and some wine.
What's a bar without a TV tuned to this season's local sporting events, a bleating, mooing installation of Big Buck Hunter and overpowering neon lights advertising watered-down domestic light beers? Why, it's a bar with a little European sensibility, of course. The Amsterdam Bar says it right there in the name, but in case there was any doubt, the place carries Maredsous, Kronenberg and Hoegaarden on tap for the finicky import drinker. Oh, and that backyard bier garden helps the bar's trans-Atlantic image, along with the whimsical variety of colorful glass lamps strewn about the ceiling. The bar's sole distraction is its jukebox, packed with classics and indie hits, which is really all you need to strike up a conversation with the next table—just like those crazy Euros do. The Amsterdam Bar is an ideal old-world escape in a city that prizes modern schwag and slick, plastic American packaging. Cheers. Or slainte. Or prosit.
Carousels, the giant Ferris wheel, pie-baking contests, friendly 4H kids in overalls grooming their prize pigs—everywhere you turn at the State Fair of Texas (running this year through October 21), it's a scene from Charlotte's Web. If you haven't been to the fair in a few years, rest assured that it's still chock full of old-fashioned goodness. The junk food's fried without trans fats now, so go ahead and stuff yourself on Fletcher's Corny Dogs, Belgian waffles and funnel cakes. Filling the 277 acres of walkways, the Midway and the Art Deco exhibit buildings at Fair Park are new versions of the old favorites. Carnies still beckon you to take your chances pitching balls at milk bottles. Kids still scream on the Wild Mouse ride. The Frisbee-catching dogs draw big crowds, as do the horse trainers, cattle auctioneers and fast-talking guys demonstrating slice-and-dice kitchen gadgets. Around that corner is a hula girl, around the next are Irish dancers. Up there is a juggler on stilts and watch out for the Human Cannonball. Our State Fair is the best state fair. Still.
You can swim and step in the fossilized tracks of Acrocanthosaurus, a three-toed, two-legged carnosaur, or Pleurocoelus, a four-legged plant-eating sauropod, at Dinosaur Valley State Park, located near Glen Rose, 90 minutes from downtown Dallas. The fossilized tracks are found beside the Paluxy River, which winds through the park, and quite a few families have discovered that this is a great place to swim (in relatively clean water) and learn something about science at the same time. The river isn't particularly deep, and while a few spots are faster-flowing, all but the smallest kids can handle the current. The park also offers hiking trails, picnicking facilities and wildlife viewing.
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