Admit it, you and every other sports fan in this part of the world want to see tons of scoring. And not just with the cheerleaders. (Rim shot!) The bigger the blowout, the better. And not just with the cheerleaders. (Thank you, Dallas, goodnight!) Forget pitchers' duels and 1-0 hockey finals. Which is why the high-octane, indoor pinball game of Arena League Football has every chance of succeeding in Big D. Played on a 50-yard field in the American Airlines Center, the game produces long ball touchdowns faster than you can count 'em. It doesn't hurt that the new Dallas Desperados have record-setting veteran Andy Kelly at quarterback. Or that the once high-scoring Texas Rangers are staggering through the kind of nightmarish summer that makes everyone long for football of any kind. Fact is, we pay this much to watch such good-looking men score any time.
Really can't say much more than that...except that it failed. Obviously.
When the missus said she was taking the kid to a beach in Fort Worth, well, let's say we wondered if she was in any state to drive around the block, much less to Tarrant County. But damned if she wasn't right: In the middle of nowhere, and about 50 years back in time, sits a 30-acre park known as Burger's Lake, where two sandy beaches lay alongside a one-acre spring-fed lake. Dangling over it is a 25-foot trapeze. Say wha? Add to that six diving boards and a 20-foot water slide, and it sounds like a little bit of paradise. And kids love it, no matter the age. The water's clean, the air cool even in the dead of summer (so much shade) and the vibe peaceful and safe (all the lifeguards are certified). And there are more than 300 picnic tables, as well as countless charcoal grills, which means you can arrive early and stay late and still wonder where the time's gone. To 1954, we reckon. Timeless. Only downside: It's open Mother's Day through Labor Day, and no booze allowed.
Readers' Pick
Six Flags Over Texas
2201 Road to Six Flags, Arlington
817-530-6000
Let's put it this way: Most of the musicians in town swear by the steady hands of Mark Thompson and the rest of the artists at Trilogy. If it's good enough for rock and roll, it's good enough for you.
Most Italian liqueurs are mean-spirited, bitter things. If they don't kill you outright, they'll most certainly crinkle your skin. At the very least, Campari, Fernet Branca and the like will make hair sprout from a man's ears and cause women to grow mustaches. That's why mirto, available at Arcodoro & Pomodoro, is such a surprise. A viscous, deep red product of the myrtle berry, it buries all but a hint of bitter zing behind a unique flavor best described as fruity, but not sweet--almost like Crunchberries without the sugar coating (and without the Cap'n Crunch). The restaurant serves it chilled, which further mutes any unpleasant bitterness. Remember, flavors open up when you allow a drink to warm. Certain things, such as vodka or Bud Light or the aforementioned liqueurs, develop some rather nasty characteristics as they open. Mirto, on the other hand, remains wonderfully subdued.
Well, yes, a 12-hour drive is as close as it gets, but Taos Ski Valley is well worth it, and far more interesting than a lot of places you can reach by plane. Taos is a family-owned, family-run, world-class ski mountain for serious skiers. The local lore is that Taos was initially thought to be too steep for most recreational skiers when it was built in the late 1950s, yet bull-headed Texans short on skill, but long on nerve, flocked there and said, "To hell with it, I'm going to the top." We've been rewarded with runs named Longhorn, a double-black diamond bump run that just doesn't quit and Lone Star, a more gentle intermediate run. On the "ridge," where one must hike, at more than 12,000 feet elevation, to catch the serious steeps and untracked powder, the runs are named after some of the German generals who schemed to assassinate Hitler. This blend of European ski traditions and the desert Southwest means great skiing by day and great dining by night. From the looks of things, the wet El Nino weather pattern, which produced bases of more than 100 inches last time it came through, should mean a helluva season this year.