Steve’s Car VS Texas

Many of you will already know this story, whether from having been a part of the magic first-hand, or having been on the receiving end of one of the bitch-sessions that occurred after. For those unfamiliar, here is where my issues with this godforsaken state began.

A couple weeks after moving to Texas from Ohio…

I hadn’t quite settled into my new life in the Longhorn state. I missed my then-girlfriend, now Fiancee, Shannon, my friends, my band, and generally the social life that I had spent years building in Columbus, Ohio. There was a bright spot in the future though; some friends of mine were touring and were going to be making a stop in Dallas, Texas for a show. I was thrilled. Familiar faces, good tunes, good laughs, good times. I had already joined up with a group of musicians and had planned on meeting them at this show, in part to prove that I did in fact have a life prior to moving to Texas, and in part to get to know the area that would become my main musical hangout spot in Dallas. The area is called Deep Ellum. A few things to know about Deep Ellum that I didn’t know prior to parking my car there. Deep Ellum is evidently rampant with crime. Violent crime, burglary, parking violations, the whole deal.

Enough set-up…

So, I arrived at a parking lot that I had to pay to park in. Silly me, I’m thinking that this might mean someone actually gives a fuck about what goes on in this parking lot. I am wrong to think this. I trot down to the venue to meet up with my friends in Moving Mountains (the band playing that night) to find that they’ve guest-listed me and have added a “plus one” for the friend of mine attending the show with me. Sounds all-good so far. I meet up with my friends in Moving Mountains, hugs are exchanged, a little light petting, all is good. Time for a beer – but wait, my phone is ringing.

“Hey, Steve, it’s Matt”

“Hey dude, what’s up? You parked yet? They’re going on pretty soon”

“Dude… Did you park in the ACE parking lot, by chance?”

“Why yes, I did, why do you ask?”

“Well, you’re going to need to come down here. It would appear that someone has broken into your car”

End phone call, begin mad-dash to my car, where, on my way, I encounter a cop productively eating a burger in his car.

“Excuse me officer, it would appear that someone has broken into my car in the ACE parking lot, might you be able to drive me over there, since it’s another few blocks up the road?”

Nope. Cop drives away. I shit you not.

By the time I reach my car, there are about 15 people meandering around, looking up at the building that I’ve parked near. And there is my car, fucked to hell. After asking the gentle folk of downtown Dallas what might have occurred that would leave my car in such distress, I’m told that someone shot out the window, 11 stories up, in the building I’m parked in front of. Oh, joy. Where are the police? They’ve been called, 15 minutes ago. Here comes the news van – how, how is it possible that the news crew has gotten here before the cops? Oh, that’s just Dallas, I’m told. The cops are probably off herding cattle somewhere.

A cop eventually shows up…

“Sir, is there any way this is going to get resolved?”

“Nah, shit like this happens A LOT, these cases never get solved.”

The police officer then continues the conversation by explaining (bragging perhaps) that Dallas has been highly ranked as a violent city. I explain that all of this is freaking me out, as this is only my second week living in Texas. He laughs and says “Welcome to Dallas”.

I made the news that night. It was evidently one few nights in the last couple weeks that Dallas had seen any substantial rain. Lucky me. I drove home, in a city I wasn’t familiar with, while rain poured into my back seat through a shattered back window. Pretty. Fucking. Bad. Time. Oh, and the guys in Moving Mountains evidently dedicated a song to me as well, a fact I would find out from their guitar player, Frank, the next day when I explained why I missed the set. Thanks, Dallas.

Do we see why I have such disdain for this place? If not, I should also mention that some “critter” made a nest out of my wiring harness only two weeks after getting my car back from the repair shop for the initial cluster-fuck repairs. There went another few hundred dollars.

This state is made of hate and evil. My case is still open, and by that I mean never going to close. I just want to know who’s accountable, maybe he (or she) will read my blog and fess up.

Video proof that I’m not full of shit:

Steve’s Car VS Texas


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