scott & phil

7.15.2008

Clouds of smoke billow in the air illuminated by the strategically placed neon lights around the room of Dallas’ West End Pub. The jukebox drowns out the sounds of the mostly male patrons telling the tales of their life while sipping on brew. Sitting at the [insert fancy type of wood here] bar a man comes up and asks the pony-tailed, bearded bartender for change from a twenty. The man is tall with hair and eyebrows that would blend into his pale skin if it weren’t sun burned. His words are hardly recognizable through his thick accent. I’m fairly certain the only way the bartender knew what he was asking was because the man was handing him a twenty-dollar bill and the words “change” and “one-dollar” came from the man’s mouth.

What they came to see were cowboys in 10-gallon hats roaming the streets, what they saw were empty streets with the occasional rude passer-by. “They” are 34-year-old Scott Anderson, a slim guy with a shaved head and tattoos from London and 28-year-old Phil Corney of New Zealand. Phil made some sort of comment about life not being fair at the mention of his last name. Both are traveling through America by means of Greyhound or as they would say, “America’s shame.” They have known each other eight days and met in Memphis at a bar where they noticed each other’s accents and their common Dallas destination.

“What made you come to Dallas?” I asked.

“Good question, bloody good question,” replied Phil.

They have both visited many cities in America and have developed some particularly strong opinions, especially of Dallas.

“With the exception of probably Dallas, everyone is really friendly.” Phil said.

“Really?” I asked, somewhat taken back.

“Yeah, Dallas people are rude.”

There was a lady on the bus that could not control her giggling, she would ask them to say something and then giggle at their response. They also mention that the few people on the street seem to have no interest in helping them with directions. To add to their distaste, Scott can’t figure out where all the 3 million people that supposedly live here actually are.

“Look, [he points outside] there’s no one on the streets there. There’s 3 million people in this city, where are they? They’re nowhere…I think it’s very odd, I think it’s very weird city.”

Scott and Phil haven’t been entirely disappointed, both were quite impressed with Fort Worth, I’m assuming because there very well may have been some real cowboys roaming around. The JFK museum was also a highlight of their stay, but for the most part these two traveling nomads were done with Dallas. Scott and Phil ended up at West End Pub, quite literally by accident.

“We’re lost, so we can find anything we’re not looking for,” Phil said.

I spent a good portion of our conversation trying to relay some places I thought they might be interested in, but it seems I may have been too late as this is there last night here. Scott is off to Vegas and Phil is heading to Mexico.

“I only wish we had met you sooner.”

Me too, Phil, me too. I can’t help but feeling sorrowful that these two foreigners are leaving thinking of Dallas as a city of rude people with nothing to do. Well, I guess they will always have their memories of “The World’s Largest Hooters.”