Day 22: Searching for Gabby Hayes

After a four hour delay, the nose of the jet lifted from the steaming blacktop and I felt a brief sensation of weightlessness. I looked out the window and watched the shimmering grid fade away into clouds and sky. I was tired from an emotional week in Texas. The highs of seeing Rudy graduate contrasted the disappointment of losing the bus and I quietly reflected at 40 thousand feet the San Antonio food scene.

Gabby Hayes knows barbecue.

As a chef I had three foodie goals in Texas. First,I had to get some real Lone Star Barbecue, preferably  served in a dilapidated shack served by an old guy that looked like Gabby Hayes. Second, I had to find an authentic taco truck that served the traditional “lengue” or tongue taco and third, I wanted to eat some fresh Gulf Coast ceviche

Day 20: Deep in the heart of Texas

I smashed the jet black Mustang rental into overdrive and punched the accelerator to the floor. Careening down interstate 410 at 85 miles per hour, I was frustrated and the GPS wasn’t cooperating. I was in the middle of Texas for my step son Rudy’s graduation from basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio. The trip was going to be emotional and I struggled to navigate the hot, Lone Star freeway to get to the house we rented with Michelle’s parents. Jet lagged and tired, Michelle and I argued most of the way on the ride to the house. It wasn’t one of those knock down drag out arguments that leaves a couple regretting every word, but more of an agitated, bitchy, “you just missed the exit for a third time” fights. Maybe it was the desert heat or the fact that I was disappointed that I didn’t see the Marlboro Man or Longhorn steer grazing in pastures. At least we were riding in style and I still hoped to see the ghost of Johnny Cash walking amongst the strip malls, tract housing and endless parade of fast food joints.